A Peck on the Cheek

When I ordered the fried olives I had something specific in mind. I didn’t realize how specific until they arrived and I took a bite. What had been floating around in my head and teasing my tongue was the memory of stuffed olives I had in Italy. Those olives were filled with some kind of meat and cheese and looked abnormally large. You had to be careful when you bit into them both for heat and to make sure the filling wasn’t lost to the ground leaving you grieving the waste.

Mua’s fried olives are not that. 

Mua’s fried olives are hard green olives stuffed with blue cheese.

I should have realized that salty olives stuffed with salty cheese, even when breaded and deep fried, leave me mostly thirsty.Luckily it was not the only thing we ordered.

Mua, which in my head is the exaggerated sound you make when you  kiss someone, is not a food destination place. That isn't to say the food is bad - I don't think I've ever had bad food there- only that it is never the place that springs to mind when I'm hungry. Mua comes to mind when I want to be out and about a little and want something pleasant with my drink.Yesterday I needed just that.

I met J for happy hour, something we'd been talking about for more than a year, and Mua was perfect for that. Settled at the bar (with hooks to hang your purse on!) my Ginger Cilantro Pisco was refreshing without being too much of any one thing, and complemented the various flavors in our snacks.

The fried calamari, delicious in the past,  was slightly overcooked. While I enjoyed the thin slices of jalapeños and onions deep fried and sprinkled in with the calamari, there were more than a few pieces of chewiness that telegraphed their overlong bath in hot oil. That said, with the larger pieces, tentacles delicate on the edges and meatier as they move up, the crunch was satisfying, the salt balanced, and the sprig of color and flavor from the random bits of fried otherness, delightful.

The surprising winner for the evening was actually the goat cheese. J couldn’t decide on our third item and so left it to our bartender with only the instruction, “no tofu.” 

I have to admit I wasn’t thrilled when I saw his decision, despite my love affair with goat cheese. I was simply in the mood for something with more of a contrast. We had salty taken care of on multiple fronts and I assumed that the goat cheese and crostini would be more of the same.

I was wrong.

Beneath the goat cheese lay raw raspberries. The benefit of raspberries is the color. Bright red against the pale bread slices and white cheese, the dish immediately pops with something more interesting to look at. The unexpected, albeit equally obvious benefit, is the sweetness. The fresh berries spread easily, their red exterior disintegrating smoothly and forming a streak within the cheese. 

With the first bite I looked down, pleasantly surprised at the sweetnessI’d just experienced. Proof of its goodness, we asked for more bread to polish off the last of it.

Drinks finished, laughter spent, J and I settled up and wandered out into an unusually warm January evening.