Eats + Drinks

Release the Kraken: Eight arms and nine brains make for one delicious bite.

Heather Anne Lee Photo: Fred Lopez

I’m not entirely sure when the octopus swam its way into the culinary spotlight, but I’m not mad about it. During a recent milestone birthday weekend, where I ate my way through Central Florida, I had not two, not three, but four delightfully different octopus encounters. The best was served at brunch, just two miles from home.

Identified taxonomically as mollusks of the Octopoda order, octopus is represented by more than 300 species. With eight paired arms (though two function more as legs), the cephalopod has a beak for biting and eating, and an elaborate defense system that involves squirted ink, jack-be-nimble mobility, and a dazzling ability to camouflage. Some live in reefs; some dwell on the ocean floor; and one even made friends with a depressed filmmaker in South Africa. (“My Octopus Teacher”… go watch it.) Other random facts: they have three hearts, no internal skeleton, and a long-term memory.

It’s one of my favorite things to eat, and if it’s also one of yours, read on.

Not easy to prepare, the nine-brained, blue-blooded denizen of the deep must be tenderized first. Legendarily, although I have not witnessed this in person, the Greek tradition involves hitting the eightarmed beast against a rock. A more civilized, modern approach employs a gentle sous-vide bath. Either one, or a myriad of other techniques, when done properly, yields an unbelievably supple texture that puts lobster to shame. (Fight me, I dare you.)

For Chef Ryan Freelove of Market to Table, this is only the start. His painstakingly tender Spanish Octopus is then layered over a grill, imbuing the meat with just the perfect amount of smoke while the tentacles take on an appealing charred appearance and flavor. While most others adore the fat, meaty bits, it’s the charred ends and crispy suckers that deliver the most concentrated bite for me.

Heavenly as that may be, where the dish leaps to life is with the elegantly-plated accoutrements. The chimichurri, on its own, tasted refreshing and grassy, with just a lingering spiciness and pungency from the garlic. The pickled fresno brought a briney foil to the slightly chilled new potato salad.

Each perfectly crafted forkful —warm, smoky, tender-crisp octopus over chilled potato, generously anointed with a holy oil of chimichurri and pickled fresno. I may no longer be Catholic, but I know when a genuflection is appropriate.

Every Can a Canvas: Brewing a better beer experience with visually stunning art that stand out on the shelf.

Tarin Scarbrough

A couple is enjoying a bottle of wine on the couch, staring deeply into the beer cooler, engrossed in a puzzled exchange. I approach to see if I can help, and the husband asks: “Is the bunny happy or sad?”

Instantly, I understand the reference. Tucked neatly away on the top row in a sea of cans is Tripping Animals “Bad Bunny Pie,” featuring the art of a bunny with glazed over eyes looking engorged, standing over a half-eaten pie. Riddled with hesitation, I say, “I can’t explain. I just have to show you.” I deliver the can and let them settle the happy-sad debate.

The couple doesn’t drink beer, but the can—more specifically, the artwork on the can—captures their attention. I deliver a variety of other Tripping Animals libations to the table for further discussion. The brand, marked by dilated eyeballs inserted onto any and all animals they feature in their abundance of product, has become a cult favorite. And within a few moments, the duo, who exclusively drinks red wine, share a blackberry, peach, cherry, graham cracker, and vanilla fruited sour… and they like it.

When I’m out selecting a beer, my methods are far from strategic. While certain breweries catch my attention and obvious styles call to me—sours and IPAs being my go-tos—can design is often a deciding factor in what I choose to indulge. I once bought a beer called “Threat Level Midnight” simply because of my obsession for The Office. And why not? Can design is now a central marketing strategies for breweries, and clever pop culture references are an easy tactic for hyping interest. That said, I have found that if the brewery invests in catchy artwork on the outside, more than likely the same love is being put inside as well.

During the pandemic, breweries nationwide needed to find a way to distribute product despite limited business. When my drinking buddies and I discovered Tavour and Craftshack, websites that were auctioning beer we had never heard of, we were elated! It was then I got my first taste of Drekker, a brewery out of Fargo, North Dakota. What was it that drew me to buy their product? THE CANS! They feature vivid colors, detailed skeletons, and symbols woven strategically into the art. Gothic design and intricate skulls, as I have found, are huge selling points for me. Turns out, Drekker also makes exceptional beer. So much so, that when they finally started distributing in Florida, I purchase every can I encounter. Acting as a movie or concert poster, the detail they display in design perfectly matches the flawless flavor they create.

Bottom line, can art is a leading factor in not only what I buy, but what I sell. When Civil Society released a Double IPA (DIPA) named “Tricked Out Golf Cart” featuring a lifted golf cart with LED lighting and dice on the mirror, I had to give the people of Winter Garden what they wanted… and it sold out in one weekend. Just like procuring a piece of art, buy the beer that speaks to you.