The Stage House

The Stage House in Scotch Plains New Jersey could be considered an "oak". It's housed in a building so old it still has the bollards with hooks to tie your horse, while you go inside for some of the best food in Union County.

Now, let's be honest. Union County (despite it's proximity to NYC and obscene wealth) is not a hotbed of culinary excellence. It's disappointing, but true. We could only hope for more restaurants on par with the Stage House. Tom Britt (formerly of the mighty "The Frog and the Peach" in NB) has continued the long tradition of this NJ staple with overseeing a superior waitstaff (dont get me started about the hostess), and by supporting the truely talented kitchen master Eric Hambrecht. I dont know Chef Hambrecht, but his reputation is stellar and consistent.

You can tell a restaurant is great by all the great chef's who list it on their resume's. The Stage House can be found on some of the Garden State's most powerful resumes. It's always seemed, to me, to be a launchpad for great careers. I can name 5 killers off the top of my head who have their own showcase restaurants, all of whom speak fondly of their training at this particular restaurant.

I'll get to the details. I had ravioli of short ribs with peas and mushrooms that wanted for nothing. An excellent first course. For an entree I went again with the braised Beef Ribs that worked perfectly with my appetizer, as a different preperation on what had to be a special piece of meat. This course had the delicate sweetness of pomegranate and red cabbage that I thoroughly enjoyed. I only chose it over a seafood selection because of the wine we were drinking, I didnt want to change gears mid-meal. I wont mention the brand (as it doesnt deserve to be printed), but let's just say it was typical, but not awful.

My guest had to be pushed into trying the gnocchi (which is ricotta based instead of the traditional flour creation I grew up with), and she almost got to finish it alone. Her Tuna entree was good, but I'm anxious to see the next stage of Tuna creations. It's about time this ingredient had a breakthrough.

Overall, The Stage House doesnt need any help. They know what they're doing and only get better each year. They have a tavern and an outside seating area that rocks 3 seasons (heatlamps allow us to continue to enjoy the outdoors deep into the Fall). I cant think of a better alternative in the Westfield/Summit/Scotch Plains corridor, and if you havent found it already, I strongly recommend it.

False Idols

I dont have a lot of idols. There are some people that I admire, but idolatry I usually save for unattainable women, or cars I strive to one day have in my garage. People, in my opinion, do not deserve to be idolized. We're all guilty of something, we all have a skeleton somewhere in a closet or under some bed.

Sometimes when I hear people talking about Tony Soprano, it makes me mad. They have such respect and sympathy for a sociopathic murderer, whose moral compass was probably broken before he even entered his teenage years. It also angers me when some asshead, with whatever sliver of Italian ancestry, lightly infers a possible connection to La Cosa Nostra. Like it's a badge of honor to have an uncle who kills, steals, intimidates, or wears a tracksuit all day. Get a job already, any moron can be a criminal.

I was speaking on the phone this afternoon to my lifelong friend Joe. I've known Joey since I can remember, and both our dad's were the kind of men who got their dead asses out of bed every morning and set out to make an honest living to raise their rapidly growing families (not to mention provide for the expensive tastes of both our mothers). These guys had tremendous responsibility, and never buckled. If they needed something, or suffered a failure, they just worked harder. If you're going to idolize somebody, these are much better candidates.

I'm going to print my prediction of the demise of Tony Soprano. I've been saying it out loud for years, but people just dont seem to remember. Tony Soprano is going to jail. He's not going to slither through the bars like a Gigante or even "Uncle Junior", he's going to the can..... like Gotti.
He's going to get booked, tried, and then convicted. Probably because one of the younger meatheads gets a parking ticket and sings like a bird. The last scene is going to be him being ushered into his cell, orange jumpsuit covering his gorilla body, he's going to turn dramatically back towards the camera and sit on the bed that's built into the concrete wall. Then they're going to close the door. Good.