Well, apropos of nothing, I got to neither a Somali nor a southeastern Asian restaurant during my 36 hours in MSP. Skipped the bathrooms at the airport, too. (VI, The name of the Somali place is "Safari", though I think you went to "Safari Express.")
I did, however, get to two oft-mentioned restaurants: 112 Eatery and Hell's Kitchen. Some thoughts:
112 played the paradox of being the premier New American restaurant in town and being the restaurant that completely ignores seasonality. You know how there's always that restaurant (Resto in NYC, Bluebird here) that, no matter the time of year, puts some "porkiness" in everything? That's 112. It's 85 degrees in MSP and there's pancetta littered on top of my hearts of palm.
Still, I ventured headlong into the porcine abyss, casting myself into the
expanding meatball universe with the restaurant's entirely unironic, nearly faithful take on swedish meatballs, with nary a quotation mark to be found. I must say, however, that the dish grew on me, the meatballs being admittedly spectacular: like precious gobs of the silkiest, creamiest matzo balls you'll ever taste. Seriously.
I also tried the lamb scottaditto,
one of Food & Wine's Best Dishes of 2006. In a year of Kumi's tagilatelle w/guanciale, Schwa's quail egg ravioli, Kahn's chicken boti, and tac quick's crispy en choy, it is far too generous to consider this two-note punch--fat + basil--a transcendent dish; it would be better suited for more like "good-to-great, depending on the context" list. Yes, it's very lamby; yes, it's tangy from the gloppy dressing that rather unattractively congeals at the bottom of the pan; yes, it's primal and a little fun to tear it at the small chops with your hands--but it's just another dish that leans on animal fat to overcome it's lack of complexity. It's drunk people's food, the buffalo wing of the yuppie.
The 112 folk are earnest and rather generous: in addition to bread, there were amuse nibbles of olives soaked in anise-flavored olive oil and candied almonds dusted with cayenne; the restaurant also brought out some housemade crunch n' munch with the check, their variation seasoned with clove and cardamom--all cute, but the flavor pairings with rather cloying.
I got to Hell's Kitchen the following morning...and proceeded to wait for a good hour. I stuck it out and was rewarded with a fantastic breakfast: an Indian porridge combining wild rice, cream, fruit, and nuts for a veritable riot of texture rivaling TAC's fish maw salad. I can't remember the last time I was in agreement with the Sterns, but here i concur: HK serves the
best peanut butter I've ever tasted.
Cool city. In ten years time, it's really going to be a great place.