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By
Shirley Fong-Torres (Great seating...and food at Tribute Restaurant, above) When it comes to travel, my flirtatious bi-polor honeybear Wro and I are old-fashioned. We believe that travel should open your eyes without transforming your personality, or personalities in Wro's case. Or, as he puts it "When in Rome, eat the cannoli, leave the gun." Detroit is our kind of town, a broad-shouldered confederation of ethnic neighborhoods. In the heydays of American auto making, the neighborhoods were defined by their cars, as ethnic groups identified with the companies most likely to employ them. The largest-in-the-nation Middle Eastern population is centered in Dearborn's Ford country. Many Caribbeans and African-Americans followed jobs to Detroit's Clark Street Cadillac plant. And the left wing Polish community of Hamtramck was "more Dodge, than Democrat." All are multicultural now and the great-grandchildren of early assembly line workers are as apt to buy Japanese imports as company cars. But the bygone city of historic neighborhoods can still be distinguished in the culinary traditions those immigrant workers carried here some six or seven decades ago. Beans
& Cornbread
(Executive Chef Jason Jones of Beans and Corn Bread) But we began our visit at Beans and Corn Bread, a soul food joint in the northern suburbs. Executive Chef Jason Jones told us he learned to cook from his grandmother, who came from Long Creek, Alabama. His grandfather was lured by coal mine jobs and then worked for Ford. "Grandmother was a cake and pie lady," Jones explained. "Red beans and rice and black eyed peas were her standards." Salmon croquettes are a signature dish at his place, of course, the ribs are special. To accommodate the times and the suburbs, "hoppin' john" and collard greens are made here with smoked turkey wings, instead of ham hocks. "It's a heart-smart issue," Jason explained, adding that wine dinners further upgrade the image of soul food here. Up
From Slavery
(Negotiations at a slave market depicted in the Charles H. Wright Museum of African-American History) We visited a thriving food market from the 14th-century Kingdom of Benin, where the peaceful origins of soul food can be glimpsed -- fresh savannah grains, rice, sorghum, black-eyed peas, beans, millet and ground nuts, so similar to peanuts. Wro watched children play the "owari" game and envied the beads made from bauxite and sea coral. The market also sold collards and dates, watermelon, yams, plantains, onions and Akee apples. The latter set Wro off on a linguistic tangent - the origin of "akee rice," in Harry Belafonte's song "Jamaica Farewell." Such melodious meditations were quickly interrupted by the horror. Slave markets on both sides of the trans-Atlantic trade, with English buyers dealing salt to African peddlers of brother flesh. Because West African climates preferred American corn over indigenous millet sorghum and rice, that grain was worth more than blood. Tribal generations were lost in an insatiable cyclical demand for salt, corn, rice, sugar, rum and tobacco. Slavery was a devalued, inedible component in the world wide lust for new tastes. "Cannibalism is at least more honest," Wro summed up. The museum showed how men spent 60 days crammed into the dark underbellies of slave ships headed for Jamaica's rum. Or 50 days to Rio's sugar. Then maybe, more time up to the Colonies for tobacco and corn, laying in the belly of the beast, gagging, suffocating. Only women were allowed on deck for anything but branding. Once in South Carolina, twice-bartered slaves on Sundays could trade foods they had grown or foraged. That improved their usual ration of gruel. Freedom's trail was marked with 500 years of crumbs. There is much more in this marvelous exhibition, "And Still We Rise," but the food angle left Wro wondering, "From where? Is all civilization, all soul anything more than a conjugation of the verb 'to eat?'" We walked through the post-slavery years in a daze. Jim Crow, Plessy vs. Ferguson's "separate but equal" hypocrisy, Joe Louis' glory, Detroit's race riots of 1940's and 60's, the recreated Paradise Theater, where original black movies are shown. Impressive, but forgettable after the first part of the journey. To unwind, we retreated to our mammoth hotel, officially the Detroit Marriott at the Renaissance Center, but also known as the General Motors Inn, as it is connected to GM's downtown Detroit headquarters by a maze of circular walking paths and "people movers." Despite confusing direction-challenged Chinese visitors, the hotel has lots to recommend, beginning with marvelous suites with Hong Kong-class views. As fate would have it, ours looked directly south at Canada. I know what you're thinking: "Oh that silly Shirley, doesn't she know Canada is NORTH of the USA?" Well, guess what? Detroit really is north of Windsor, Ontario, which is most notable for its beaming neon casino lights. What a day - mind expanding education, great food and gambling too. Detroit is like Disney World for blackjack playing Chinese foodies. Disney World for Chinese Foodies Our concierge advised us to avoid the post-911 border delays (more time to gamble) and take the "people mover" to the Greektown Casino instead of Windsor's. This was like a dream come true - a casino in an ethnic neighborhood previously known for its restaurants. So, fighting off sleep, I set off for late night blackjack games and grape leaves. Wro stayed in the hotel, liking the robe and the view and fearing that second-hand smoke might foul his clothes. He was right - this casino had no areas for non-smokers. I was told that they tried it, but no one used them. I also learned that the busiest night of the month for the casino is the night that social security checks are issued. The next busiest are any hockey nights and the third busiest are Fridays. I hit the triple jackpot: a social security- check issuing, hockey Friday. The place was buzzing. I played a little but went home before my eyes fogged over with smoke. I was told that no trip to Detroit is complete without a late night stop at American Coney Island or Lafayette Coney Island, next door to each other. These are the grand daddies of a Greek-run hot dog empire that includes 300 other places and is Detroit's best known food icon. Brooklyn coneys usually come with ketchup, Chicago's almost always use relish, and Milwaukee's kraut. In Detroit - it's mustard only. The next morning Wro and I got lost trying to find our way out of the hotel. Finally we figured out that the lobby is like a hub airport, you have to deplane your elevator and walk to a connecting elevator gate just to get to the restaurants, or to street level. We missed breakfast, walking in circles, but finally found the connecting taxi gate for Hamtramck, a virtual island community surrounded on all four sides by Detroit. Little
Poland Walking about the retail strip on Joseph Campau, we visited stores where nalesniki (crepes) are still made with farmers cheese, eggs, flour, sugar and fruit. We learned about a famous "Fat Tuesday" indulgence here that is unknown outside Detroit - a kind of glazed jelly donut called "paczki," made with a richer batter than other donuts use. We counted six Polish bakeries, four on Joseph Campau alone. Wro checked out goose eggs, duck eggs and chicken eggs. At the Polish Arts Center we found dried borowik mushrooms, famous since Poland was a Czarist state. We visited Srodek's sausage store, where rabbits were fresh and stuffed cabbage was home made, as were kielbasa, kraut, frozen soup, pirogis and cheeses. For lunch we headed off the main drag, to Little Polish Village. The place was built in 1925 and is underground like East European rathskellars. It was packed for lunch at 11:03. We tried some stuffed cabbage, a pirogi, mushroom cutlets and potato pancakes. We passed on the tripe stews and duck blood soup, which sounded too much like something we had enjoyed in Prague, to later distress. Our waitress suggested fried perch and looked amazed that we would pass on it. Motown
Sound
(Wro shows his "musical talent" in Motown) We sat in the same reception area where so many ambitious kids came hoping to become the next Diana Ross, Stevie Wonder, Marvin Gaye, Smokey Robinson, Martha Reeves, etc. We were amazed to recall that Gordy moved the business to Hollywood way back in 1972. How brief the glory. So much creativity cranked out of this little house, when it was open 24 hours a day, 7 days a week and so many great talents hung around the place, collaborating. But for so short a time. A
Grand Tribute
(Stylish seating at Tribute Restaurant) That Las Vegas image builder now prefers the great regional chefs in America over spread-thin celebrity chefs that other Vegas hotels endorse. Another Wynner, unless you're in Detroit and other places raided by the Nevadan. Takashi was conscientious about picking Don to replace him, after the younger man cooked for Tribute's 10th anniversary.
(Chef Don Yamaguchi of Tribute Restaurant) The restaurant looks spectacular, architect Victor Saroki deservedly won the Interiors Award from the American Institute of Architects. A slate-floored lobby boasts a grand chandelier, a signed Andy Warhol lithograph and an intimate bar, bathed in soft blue light that showcases local artisans' glassware. Tribute's theatrical dining room features dramatic murals and draperies and a pair of walk-through wine cellars (19,000 bottles and 2800 labels). There are tall, sweeping arched ceilings, geometric skylights, curved banquettes, custom stained-glass lighting and mahogany floors. A brass spiral staircase links the main floor to the much sought-after Chef's Table and Garden Dining Room below, both of which are in full view of the kitchen. Chef
Don offered to cook for us, so we didn't even look at the menu. My dietician still
won't talk to me about that decision. A monkfish tail "osso bucco" was braised in cumin-scented wine sauce, deglazed with clam juice, and served with a white truffle potato coulis. Veal sweetbreads were fried in chili oil. Veal cheeks served over wild mushrooms was the best course I remember, before going into shock. I am not sure if I consumed, or dreamed, the coffee-rubbed venison loin, with a soft poached egg that had been infused with herbed oil, and served with a parsnip-guava puree. One of Tribute's great prides is their beef. Takashi found an obscure packer in Plainwell, Michigan who was shipping all his beef to Japan. He persuaded them that he would respect the product and now Don wet ages all beef for 4 weeks and then dry ages it an additional three weeks. He insists the marbling is better than any American wagyu. We won't argue. Because of this, we were forced to try strip loin, prepared two ways. Don turned his pastry chefs (yes, that is plural, Don has a staff of 14 chefs under him) loose to finish us off. Lisa and Eric presented two cheese courses, including a potato gnocchi in Black Butte reserve. A Fois Gras Presentation A fois gras presentation of vanilla crème brulee came in a candied "apple." I seem to recall a nutmeg cognac anglaise, from which caramel and a port reduction sucked my blood. Then the staff did something that was over the top even in a decadent foodie's life. They interrupted the dessert courses -- with an intermezzo of quince sorbet. After that, I vaguely recall a vanilla bean syrup on top of a blended fruit juice and champagne ice, topped with ground hazelnuts. Oh and then there was a chocolate course which included the Tribute's signature "The Egg." To the best of my memory, this involved chocolate creme brulee, liquid caramel, caramel foam, maple syrup, and sea salt. I think I hallucinated a serving of fudge cake topped with raspberry coulis in caramel sauce and dark chocolate sauce, topped with cognac cream and white chocolate ganache. Wro later told me that I also consumed an "Irish caramel," a concoction of syrups, ice cream and chocolate dressed up to look like a draft of Guinness. Don confessed
that he grew up, like me, in a family restaurant. I am sure his food will never make its way out of my blood either. Feeling like an anaconda digesting a herd of cattle, I was unable to return to the casino that night. When a Chinese woman passes up an opportunity to play black jack, that is the deepest sign of respect that can be shown a Japanese chef. Like all first time visitors to a Disney World, Wro and I realized we would have to slow our pace the next day. Michigan Spring Soul (Morel Greens Gratin) Serves 6 2 pounds greens
(beet greens, Swiss chard, mustard, turnip greens or collards) washed Preheat the oven to 375 degrees F. Steam greens for 2 minutes; squeeze them dry and chop finely. In a skillet, heat 2 tablespoons of the oil and the butter. Saute garlic and morels for about 3 minutes. Add the beet greens and stir well to combine. Remove pan from the heat and season to taste with salt and pepper. Stir in the cheeses and eggs. Pour the mixture into a greased shallow 9-inch baking dish. Sprinkle with bread crumbs and the remaining 2 tablespoons oil. Bake 35 minutes, or until golden-brown.
Charles H.
Wright Museum of African American History Motown
Historical Museum Beans
& Cornbread: A Soulful Bistro Polish
Village Café Polish
Art Center Srodek's
Sausage Co. Tribute Detroit
Marriott at the Renaissance Center Good consumer information about Detroit, Michigan is available on the Travel Michigan website: www.michigan.org.
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