Food in Houston

Sorrel, Radical Eats, Tepatitlan, Korean Noodle House

2011-07-18T16:21:00.009-05:00

A few interesting meals lately:

Sorrel Urban Bistro (2202 West Alabama). Last night was their 2nd night. Very promising. This less-expensive, high-end restaurant features a Danish chef, daily-changing menu, and a farm-to-market concept.

Large plates are in the $20s and small plates are around $10. The wine list is a mix of small-producers and organic wines.

Bread service includes a deliciously bitter sorrel pesto. A small plate of cured halibut with sweet dill sauce and thinly sliced English cucumbers had a nice balance of sweetness, tang, and sea. Luscious butter-poached lobster and quail eggs sat atop a bitter arugula salad. A slightly over-cooked pork chop was covered in tangy cooked onion and tomato.

These are simple dishes, often with only 3 or 4 high quality ingredients. The kitchen is big on balancing contrasting flavors. Their minimalist approach to ingredients nicely fills a void in Houston's maximalist restaurant scene.

Radical Eats (3903 Fulton St.) Kudos for opening a restaurant east of I-45 and north of downtown. Apart from a few great Mexican restaurants, this area is a food desert.

This new dive is a work-in-progress that serves all-vegan Mexican food. Service is friendly and so laid back that you might think you're in Austin. The real reason to go is quality ingredients with interesting preparations.

A fried avocado taco is outstanding. The avocado chunks resemble cornmeal-crusted oysters. Jalapeno sauce is seriously hot and flavorful. A great mix of textures and flavors, this is one of the better tacos in town.

Chile Rellenos are a healthy version of one of the world's least healthy dishes. Here, a baked poblano is stuffed with mushrooms, onions, and tofu on a base of spicy tomato sauce. If you need batter, cheese, and fat, you'll be sadly disappointed. But if you are looking for an interesting preparation of vegetables, it's a success.

Enchilladas in nogado (walnut) sauce are slightly less successful. Although I dig the tortillas and the mushroom filling, the nogado sauce tastes like health food, not traditional nogado. As Pico's nogado sauce proves, sometimes you have to have cream -- which isn't an option for vegans.

Overall, Radical Eats is a godsend for vegans, and a nice alternative for the rest of us.

Tacqueria Tepatitlan (4720 N. Main location). I was previously disappointed. Then I discovered the trick -- skip the Tex-Mex plates and order off the tacqueria portion of the menu. (And it helps to speak some Spanish).

Tacos, gorditas, tostadas, huaraches, and sopes are served with a choice of 10 different meats. Birria (baby goat) was strongly spiced, but not too much to cover the delicious goat flavor. Picadillo had an earthy, spicy flavor. Carnitas were crispy and chopped into small cubes, which works well for tacos.

Best of all are huaraches, which have a masa base and an addicting texture.

It's not the best Mexican food in the Heights, but the tacqueria offerings are far better than your average taco truck.

Korean Noodle House is a funky Spring Branch restaurant in a ranch-style house (1415 Murray Bay). Half the fun is finding the place, then eating on long bench's in someone's house.

The #1 reason to go is homemade, handcut noodles. There is something inspiring about a bowl of noodles in which each noodle has its own individualistic shape.

The #2 reason is kimchi, easily the best I have had. It is spicy, funky, and addictive.

The menu consists of hot noodle dishes (mostly soups) and cold noodle dishes. Prices are mostly $10 - $12. For handmade noodles of this quality, it's a steal.

Where I'm eating now - 2011 version

2011-06-30T13:12:00.006-05:00

It has been 12 months, and my standby restaurants have changed. Time for an update.

These are are not necessarily Houston's best restuarants -- although some of them are. They are where I eat most often because of the combination of food, drinks, value, and feel.

Top 20 (2011)

Heavy rotation

Vinoteca Poscol (Italian, Montrose). Marco's wine bar remains one of the most compelling places in town to eat. I haven't found better house-made charcuterie. Most of the daily specials are tasty, but I more often am drawn to the daily-special terrine with unusual combinations like rabbit meat, peas, Lambrusco and sweet potatoes. It has Houston's most affordable great wine list. And that dessert with marscapone and stewed dates is incredible.

Feast (Rustic European, Montrose). I have heard that the original owner team may all return to the Houston location. After all, New Orleans may not be as adventurous as Houston. Let's hope they do return and stay. Although Feast is best known for its offal and other unusual ingredients, the big secret is that this kitchen could make any ingredient, no matter how mundane, taste good. This is delicious food -- and easily one of Houston's top 3 restaurants, if not the best.

Kata Robata (Japanese/Modern American, Kirby). What a remarkable year. As Chef Hori-San continued turning out the best sashimi dishes in Houston, the kitchen added Seth Siegel-Gardner, one of Houston's most adventurous chefs. The result was a mix of molecular gastronomy and Japanese food unlike anywhere else. Seth brought together small plates with bewildering combinations of ingredients. Many of his best dishes focused not on seafood, but on park. For six months, Kata Robata was Houston's best restaurant. Sadly, Seth only planned to stay half a year, and he left this month. Yet Hori remains, and continues to prepare the best Japanese food in Houston.

Pondicheri / The Queen Vic Pub (Indian, Kirby area) These two casual Indian restaurants have taught me how well Indian food works great beer. Indika's sister, Pondicheri, has the edge on food and atmosphere. Chef Anita Jaisinghani changes the menu from week to week, making her unusual Indian dishes even more interesting. The best dishes are often street-food appetizers and thali combination plates. The modern atmosphere with lots of light and Indian fabrics makes this one of my favorite spaces in town.

Queen Vic -- Oporto's sister restaurant -- combines British Indian food with British pub food, yet doesn't hold back on spices. The curries here are particularly good. The best dish may be scotch egg, a gently hard-boiled egg surrounded by a thick crust of ground lamb resting in a sea of spicy curry. The beer list is better than Pondicheri, and one of the best in the city.

Himalaya. (Indian/Pakistani, Southwest Freeway) I don't particularly like to eat in this restaurant, but it is my favorite place for takeout. The Indo-Pakistani dishes burst with spice, flavor, and comforting textures. I have had a lot of Indian food around the country, but nothing else quite so good.

Medium rotation

Down House (Heights). This is a new breakfast/lunch hangout in the Heights with a Darwin theme (!!?). They offer beer pairings with every dish, yet they close at 3 p.m. Surely that will change soon? Although the menu is neither big nor particularly revolutionary, I like the focus on simple flavors and local ingredients. A pork belly banh mi may be my favorite banh mi in town. A grilled lemon chicken sandwich with olive tapenade, capers and feta cream is far better than any chicken sandwich should be. The fish tacos with sauteed cabbage and carots are superlative -- if a little too pricey.

Pho Binh (Vietnamese, locations around town). The lunch crowd is a diverse group of working men. They are drawn by the meaty broth, noodles, and beef parts that populate my favorite bowl of pho in Houston. If you don't want pho, don't go.

Giacomo's cibo e vino (Italian, Kirby area). Despite an excellent entree involving chicken and butter, the highlights are mostly tapas-sized dishes on the ciccheti menu, with dishes like cumin-spiced lamb meatballs and braised chicken thighs with sweet peppers and onions. It's a great place for a light meal. Judging by the crowd, women seem to like this place a lot. Decent Italian wine list.

Udipi Cafe (Indian, southwest). As a meat lover, I feel guilty eating at this Southern Indian vegetarian buffet off Hillcroft. Will they smell the odor of beef on me? Will they see that pork-eater look in my eyes? Yet within minutes of eating this delicious, spicy food, I forget that I am eating nothing but vegetables. This is diverse food, combining a multitude of flavors.

Zelko Bistro (Heights, modern). Perhaps not deserving of all the hype, this is one of the better new Houston restaurants. The menu and preparations are simple, almost earnest. I particularly like the daily fish, which almost always seems to be grouper.

El Real (Tex-Mex, Montrose). El Real does not deserve all of the negative / ambivalent reviews it has received. Were the reviewers eating at another restaurant? Or did they just not get it? This is true, classic Tex Mex of the highest order. That means you get a lot of mild chili gravy, cheese, and lard. El Real captures the classic flavor of Felix's and improves on it. It also channels a lot of other Tex-Mex classics from around the state. I love the queso, the guacamole, the chips, the salsa, and the enchiladas. Nothing too fancy. This is real.

Pico's Mex-Mex (Mexican, Bellaire). While on the subject of Mexican food, Pico's has been on my top 10 and 20 lists from the beginning. Avoid standard Tex-Mex or fajitas and order something from the specials board or something from Oaxaca or Yucatan. The mole is sublime.

Hugo's (Mexican, Montrose). High-end Mexican food that reflects the personality of his chef. Plus the only great wine list I have ever seen in a Mexican restaurant.

Garson (Persian, Southwest). I recently rediscovered this elegant Iranian restaurant, which serves tasty grilled meats and complex stews. I really dig the flat bread, feta, radishes, and herbs they serve gratis to start the meal.

Philippe's Restaurant (French and Southwestern, Galleria). Honestly, it sounds like a bad idea to combine high-end French cuisine with Texas flavors and traditions. That's why Philippe Schmit's new restaurant is so surprising. Tuna tartare with tequila tastes like some classic Tex-Mex dish. Burgundy beef cheeks looks like beef bourguignon, but taste like -- a juicy barbecue brisket? I especially like the dishes served in a jar, such as snapper/potato brandade (dip) and venison pate. I like this food more in winter.

Tan Tan (Chinese, Bellaire Chinatown). I can't decide on my favorite restaurant in Houston's glorious Chinatown, so I will list the one I visited last. Huge menu with great noodle dishes. This is part of Houston's unique Chinese/Vietnamese fusion. Both cuisines are well represented here in a cheesy, festive environment. Fun.

Piola (Pizza, Midtown). My current favorite pizza place. Piola is an international chain with crispy-crust pizza. The menu is as interesting as it is oblivious to American pizza restaurant cliches.

Haven (Southern, Kirby). Not just local ingredients, but local cuisine, inspired by East Texas food from a pre-International era. This is the oustanding Southern food restaurant that Houston always deserved and finally has.

Reef (Seafood, Midtown). The seafood served may change daily or weekly, but the flavors all seem to remain the same. Reef seems like its in a bit of a rut. Still, it has some of the best dishes in town and remains the best representative of Gulf Coast seafood.

Honorable mentions: Bootsie's Heritage Cafe (not on the list because its in Tomball), Mary'z, Stella Sola, Revival Meats, Asia Market, Brasserie Max & Julie, Fung's Kitchen, Benjy's, Shade, Backstreet Cafe, Divino, Dolce Vita, Kraftsmen's Cafe, Teotihuacan, Pasha, Mandarin Cafe, Laurier Cafe, Indika.

There are a number of good restaurants (Da Marco, Tony's, Chez Roux) that are not on this list because I just haven't been in the past year.

Blog on hold / Thai Curry did me in

2009-11-11T12:52:00.008-06:00

"I'm writing a book.

I've got the page numbers done."

-Steven Wright

This blog is going on hiatus for a while. I am suffering from a dreadful mental condition.

Writer's block

I write for a living. My law practice is writing. I teach a class on writing. I even am writing a book, which I have to finish by January.

So it makes no sense that I have writer's block. But I do.

A few weeks ago, I promised that my next post would be about Thai curry. I haven't been able to write that post -- or any post. For some reason, I lost all inspiration to write about food.

First Try: Asia Market

After starting a curry series, I knew I had to write about Thai curries. They are my favorite curry. But they also don't quite fit our concept of curry. Surely there would be much to write.

I sought inspiration in Asia Market's wonderful red curry, Kang Dang.

I planned to argue that Thai curry is not what we think of as curry. It is not a mix of dry spices. (Massamun is the exception). Instead, Thai curries are a mix of hot peppers, coconut milk, onion, kafir leaf, galangal or ginger, and other garden (or jungle) ingredients.

Thai curries are usually about the balance of the sweet creaminess of coconut milk and the heat of the peppers. They are not curries as in an earthy blend of spices, like an Indian or Pakistani curry.

Beyond that, I could not think of anything interesting to say. What to do? Maybe eat more curry?

Second Try: Vieng Thai

A curry on the menu at Vieng Thai caught my eye. Gang Pa is a "country-style red curry without coconut milk." I wondered, without coconut milk, would it still be Thai curry?

This dish was more like a spicy pepper soup. It lacked the sweet/spicy/sour balance of most Thai dishes. It was just spicy and sour, like a really peppery bowl of Tom Yum. Apart from the peppers, I couldn't decide what made it a curry.

So what is curry? Heck, I have no idea now. The word curry doesn't make any sense.

Is it a mix of spices? Not if you include Thai curry. Is it a hot and spicy sauce? Not if you include Japanese and French curries, which have little heat at all. Is it a thick Asian sauce? Not if you include Gang Pa, which has the consistency of a thin soup.

Worse, curry is a fascinating food. You could write a book about curry. But I can't. I seem to have lost the ability to say anything interesting about food at all.

Why a hiatus?

A few months ago on Technology Bytes, Jay Lee criticized Houston food bloggers. He asked what expertise they have to write about food. Is it because they eat? We all eat, Jay argued -- in his snarky way. So is everyone qualified to write a food blog?

I have no qualifications other than the fact that I think a lot about food and culture. [If I have something interesting to say, then I'm qualified.] But when I don't have anything interesting to say, Jay is right. There is no reason to write a blog.

The new restaurants are not inspiring . . . yet

Perhaps I will find inspiration in all the restaurants opening this fall. But probably not.

Straits is a good attempt at upscale Malaysian. But honestly I don't have much interesting to say about it that I haven't said about the more interesting, and cheaper Banana Leaf.

Haven might be worth a post or two - if it ever opens.

And Stella Solla is at least giving us a lot of gossip. But I don't write much gossip.

The other 10 or so high-profile restaurants opening this fall sound pretty dull, pretty mainstream.

New steak restaurants? Yawn. A seafood restaurant inspired by Boston's Legal Seafood? Yawn. A gastropub serving short ribs? Yawn. Italian restaurants by chefs or restauarantuers who peaked in 1990?

I could go on. The crop of new restaurants two years ago was fantastic, perhaps the best Houston has ever had.

This year, the bad economy means retreading, going with the safe bet, simple foods. I understand. I watch Gordon Ramsay. But I'm not inspired.

So for the next several months I am going to go to Disney World (Tim Keating is at Flying Fish), write my book (not about food), and practice law. Maybe the New Year will bring me some sort of inspiration.

Maybe we can talk more then.

Bye.

Curry part 2 - Japanese curry

2009-10-30T11:23:00.007-05:00

It may be a lowly, fast-food dish in Japan, often prepared from a sauce mix. Yet Japanese curry is one of my favorite Japanese dishes -- and one of my favorite curries.

Its personality differs from the curries of India, Pakistan, and Malaysia. The best version I have found is at Kubo's Cafe in the Bellaire Chinatown.

Is it curry or is it roux?

The word "curry" is confusing. In Japan, there is a distinction between curry sauce and roux. The roux is the base and is often as simple as curry powder and flour cooked in oil. The roux is then used to make a curry sauce which includes other, chunkier, ingredients like meat or potatoes.

Yet every version of Japanese "curry rice" that I ordered in the U.S. serves only the roux. Other ingredients -- rice, pickled vegetables and someimes a side protein -- are served on the side. At Kubo's, you can order just curry rice, or curry sauce with beef, chicken, pork katsu, or shrimp tempura.

Curry with Japanese personality

Curry came to the Japanese via the Europeans, not from India. So you might look at Japanese curry as a dumbed-down, milder version of an Indian curry that appeals to an audience afraid of too much spice.

But that is not how I look at it. Sure, the personality of Japanese curry couldn't be more different from the Malaysian dry curry I described in part 1. But the personality seems inherently Japanese.

The texture is smooth and delicate, almost creamy. There are no lumps. The roux is, more than anything else, consistent.

The flavors are beefy, mustardy, and slightly spicy. Yet no one flavor stands out. And every bite tastes exactly the same.

The flavor is unified, and distinctive. If you did a blindfolded tasting of curries from 10 countries, the Japanese version would be easy to identify.

This curry makes sense in light of the Japanese aesthetic, which values simplicity and an almost obsessive pursuit of perfection.

Why do I like it so much?

I should prefer the intense spice, variety, and earthy grittiness of the Malaysian curry. But something about Japanese curry is more comforting, almost addictive.

Perhaps it is the texture, almost exactly like my East Texan grandmother's cream gravy. But it also has something to do with that distinctive Japanese curry flavor.

Unfortunately, Japanese curry rice has been hard to find in Houston. Most Japanese restaurants don't serve it -- since it isn't sushi. I became addicted to it 18 years ago in Boston, and have had a hard time finding it here ever since. Fortunately, Kubo's Cafe now serves 6 varieties, all with that same roux.

If you like some heat, like I do, make sure you get one of the small red tubes containing Japanese crushed pepper. Ten or so dashes of pepper it just as hot as a curry from India or Pakistan.

And nothing beats a spicy, smooth gravy.

Next: Thai Curry

Halloween Quiz

2009-10-30T09:54:00.004-05:00

I'll get back to curry later today.

For now, try this Halloween quiz: Can you guess what this dish is and what Houston restaurant was fearless enough to serve it last weekend?

When I was in 5th grade, my school had a haunted house. My job was to prepare foods, like cold spaghetti in ketchup, that felt gross. Guests would stick their hands in a hole in a box and feel the foods. Of course, the guests were told that they were feeling something's (or someone's) cold organs.

Is this dish the same sort of imitation? Or is it the real deal?

(Hint: this dish was awfully tasty.)

UPDATE: The dish, served by the folks at Feast, was "cold pigs brains on toast with green sauce."

It had a very mild liver-like flavor. The texture was glorious -- soft, moist, fluffy, almost gelatinous. It reminded me of a delicate, pate mousse.

Of course, it looked exactly like brains -- which may explain why my wife placed a bite in her mouth, but simply could not swallow it.

She missed out.

Curry part 1 - dry Malaysian curry

2009-10-28T13:22:00.005-05:00

Thinking about curries

This is the time of year for spices. In summer, I avoid spice. It overpowers the garden flavors of summer vegetables and fresh herbs.

But when the weather starts to get cold, I hit the spice cabinet.

Last weekend, I did my annual spice cleaning and replacement. I noticed some spices that I had used very little -- fenugreek, turmeric, coriander. Those spices started me thinking about curry.

As much as I love curries, the word curry is troubling. It raises a lot of questions:

What is curry? Is it a blend of spices (or is that masala)? Or is it just a word for certain Asian sauces? If so, what is common to curry?

Is the word just a Western oversimplification of flavors we don't quite understand? Or is there really a category of food that is rightfully called curry?

I don't know the answers -- at least not yet. But I am going to try to find out.

Malaysian dry curry

Perhaps the best place to start thinking about curry is Malaysia.

Malaysian dry curries strike me as the essence of curry. The gritty curry you get on beef rendang looks like coarse spices resting in a small amount of oil. The flavor is full of intense spices, but not particularly hot spices. Malaysian curry tastes primitive; it tastes of-the-earth.

But the reality is a little more complicated than that.

At Banana Leaf in the Bellaire Chinatown, I ordered Banana Leaf Curry Chicken. The plate consists of hacked up chunks of bone-in, dark meat with a rendang-like sauce.

It is a dish that makes you focus on spice flavors. At one moment, the flavor is cardamom. Then ginger and garlic. And more than anything else, I taste the earthiness of cumin.

This curry looks like a simple mix of spices cooked in in oil. But it is more complex. The base is coconut meat -- an ingredient whose flavor I don't detect in the final sauce. But coconut meat may explain the gritty texture.

It also is not a simple dish. Malaysian curries are often cooked for a long time, sometimes hours.

The curry's personality

My theory is that every curry has a personality. Sometimes the personality reflects the culture. Sometimes it may not.

The personality of dry Malaysian curry is deceptively simple, basic, and masculine. Its texture is oily, gritty, primative. It changes from bite-to-bite as different spices step forward to assert themselves. Yet it is not a curry that allows any other flavor to dominate the raw earthiness of the spices. There is no sweet coconut here, no peppery heat -- just spice.

This is a curry that demands one thing: "The spice must flow."

Next: Japanese curry

tiradito

2009-10-22T10:23:00.008-05:00

popping up everywhere

I had never heard of tiradito before summer 2008. Randy Rucker had returned from Peru and served this tilefish tiradito with lemon verbena, fennel blossoms, and kimchee consomme.

Since then, tiraditos have been popping up on menus around Texas. At Reef, Bryan Caswell has made famous this tiradito of sea bream with blackfin tuna bacon, green apple, and avocado:

In Dallas last week, Stephan Pyles's menu offered three tiraditos, including these two: scallop and Spanish mackerel.

Several Dallas restaurants now serve tiradito. That makes sense. Dallas has one of the many outposts of Nobu. And Nobu has a lot to do with the history of tiradito in America.

what is it?

Tiradito is a Peruvian raw seafood preparation that lies somewhere in between South American ceviche, Italian crudo, and Japanese sashimi.

Typically, the fish is sliced thinly and marinated with lime juice, sometimes ginger, and sometimes hot pepper. Unlike ceviche, it does not use onions. Compared to ceviche, the flavor is delicate, and doesn't overwhelm the fish.

a little background

Tiradito is relatively new. Although the Peruvians traditionally had access to fantastic seafood, they did not like it and rarely ate it. Only in the last half century has any seafood, much less raw seafood, starting appearing on Peruvian menus.

In the early 1970s, Nobu Matsuhisa left his sushi apprenticeship in Japan to help run a sushi restaurant in Peru catering to Japanese immigrants.

It was Nobu who helped popularize the tiradito. And it was Nobu who introduced it to the U.S. when he started opening restaurants here. Ever had that popular dish of yellowtail sashimi with citrus and japalapeno? You can thank Nobu and his brief Peruvian interlude for it.

Unlike most of the U.S., Houston's connection with tiradito is not through Nobu, but direct from Peru. A few years ago, Michael Cordua took some young chefs, including Rucker, to Peru to learn about Peruvian cuisine. Those chefs returned with a lot of ideas about tiradito.

styles

There is not much of a tiradito orthodoxy. So you see a wide range of styles.

The Stephan Pyles's tiraditos were minimalist. The fish was treated delicately, with only a hint of other flavors. It worked, especially with the scallop.

In contrast, Rucker and Caswell's tiraditos are more complex, and perhaps slightly more interesting. In their dishes, the marinated fish is only a component, combined with other ingredinets and flavors.

Like ceviche, most tiraditos highlight raw fish with citrus. But unlike so much ceviche, a tiradito preparation does not use too much onion or sauce to cover up the fish. Tiradito preparation is better than ceviche, and is an interesting Latin alternative to crudo and sashimi.

leche de tigre

At least one other idea Randy Rucker brought back from Peru was leche de tigre. Not for the faint of heart, leche de tigre is the juice byproduct from making a tiradito or ceviche.

Leche de tigre is citrusy, fishy, and spicy. It is rumored to be a good cure for hangover, as well as a boost to, um, potency. It is the kind of drink that will grow hair on your chest. I wish more of these Texas chefs serving Peruvian raw fish also would serve us a shot of this wonderful juice.

Reef photos

2009-10-19T13:36:00.006-05:00

I signed up for the food photography course when I learned it would be at Reef.

I'm no photographer. But I couldn't miss the chance to shoot a few dishes at Reef during the day. At night, Reef may be Houston's worst restaurant for photos. Something about the lighting blurs every shot.

Yet in the afternoon, with lots of natural light, Reef makes photos easy, even for a point-and-click novice like me.

So here are some of Brian Caswell's greatest hits -- plus the man in the orange cap himself.

Foam at Catalina Coffee

2009-10-01T09:13:00.011-05:00

More outstanding cappuccino foam

Waldo's foam impressed me with it unruly, cotton-candy texture.

Catalina Coffee's impresses with a different style of foam -- tightly focused and dense, with artistic patterns.

The whole operation at Catalina Coffee on Washington Ave. is a little more serious, a little more sophisticated than Waldo's counter-culture aesthetic. Catalina's counter even features baked goods and a CD on display -- just like you-know-who.

But like Waldo's, Catalina isn't Starbucks. The baristas are artists -- and individuals.

Will it be art?

Catalina's web page shows foam in the pattern of a heart. As you can see from the 1st photo, this morning, I got a leaf. Two days ago, there was no pattern other than a carefully constructed cylinder topped with a perfectly flat plateau.

If I go to Catalina often enough, will I get the same pattern twice? Or is every drink an individualized creation?

Sure, visual patterns don't change the flavor. But they can make the coffee better. Drinking is a visual experience too.

Why independent coffee houses matter

We shouldn't hate corporate coffee. American coffee is far better after Starbucks than it was before. Even McDonald's now serves decent coffee drinks.

But every Starbucks cappuccino is essentially the same. As is every McDonald's cappuccino. They are assembly-line product that customers value for consistency.

Wildly different, a cappuccino at Catalina or Waldo's is going to be the creation of an individual. It probably will taste a little better. Its beauty may even approach art.

And it almost certainly will be more . . . human.

Houston's new peasant food

2009-09-26T11:12:00.008-05:00

Vinoteca Poscol surprised me.

I expected a trendy tapas / wine bar. I expected a cheaper casual version of Da Marco. I expected what Alison Cook called a "useful restaurant" with modest portions.

And I expected more of a crowd.

What I found was something far more interesting. Along with Feast and to a lesser degree Dolce Vita, Poscol is an example of a new type of food in Houston -- a revolutionary style that overturns our preconceptions about food.

But with all the excitement, where are the masses? On recent Friday and Saturday nights, we easily got a table at 8 p.m. at Poscol with no reservation.

Like Feast, a lot of people don't "get" Poscol. It doesn't match their idea of great cooking or fine dining. In fact, it goes against our culture's idea of fine dining.

This isn't a review of Poscol. It is an argument for what I call new peasant food. And it's something of a manifesto. (Sorry.)

What is new peasant food?

"Peasant food" may not be the best phrase. It may sound derogatory. It may unfairly suggest authenticity. But it is uesful for a related-set of ideas:

1 - Under-appreciated, inexpensive ingredients. Peasant food is inherently cheap. Like poor people anywhere, European peasants made do with the ingredients they had -- left-over animal parts, easy-to-grow vegetables, simple grains. No precious ingredients. The feudal lord ate those.

2 - Traditional preparation. The focus is often roasting, braising, cooking over a fire. (I suspect the guys at Feast, like Marco Wiles, know some pretty advanced techniques; you just don't see signs of it on the plate.)

3 - Modest presentation. No abstract art here. Peasant food is usually slopped in a bowl or on a plate. It often isn't pretty.

Examples? Bacala may be Poscol's best dish -- a gooey, unattractive casserole of salt cod served with toast. Salt cod is a cheap way to preserve a once cheap fish. It's a pre-modern version of canned fish. Yet this cheap dish explodes with flavor and a rich, creamy texture.

Poscol's beet and hazelnut salad - These aren't expensive multi-colored baby beets. They are simple chunks of soft, red beets, simply roasted, and mixed with nuts and goat cheese.

Poscol's Bruschetta - Poscol's offers 5 toasts topped with simple ingredients -- chicken liver, fava beans. Feast does something similar -- topping toast with chicken hearts, and chicken liver.

Feast's roasts. Feast is the place in Houston for simple roasts with cheap cuts of meat (lamb leg, roasted pork belly) and cheap veggies, like potatoes and kale.

Why peasant food?

I can see a lot of arguments for this type of food.

One is environmental and economic. If you eat meat, it is cheaper and greener to eat the whole animal. Cheap produce has benefits too. Fava beans, potatoes, and rutabagas are less costly and environmentally damaging to produce -- and ship -- than black truffles or even California heirloom tomatoes.

Another is argument is cultural. Modern cooking -- from standard cooking-school techniques to molecular gastronomy -- may be too far removed from our primal activity: foraging for food, cooking it on a fire, and eating.

But for me, the real argument is this:

It's all about the Revolution

The best argument for new peasant food is its deconstructive/revolutionary effect. American fine dining is still too constrained in its choice of ingredients. We still expect great restaurants to serve the same set of items: lobster, fillet mignon, sea bass, truffles, foie gras, morel mushrooms. So pricey restaurants almost all focus on these types of ingredients.

Expensive ingredients are expensive because of supply and demand, not necessarily quality. For instance, in 19th c. New England it was a sign of poverty to eat lobster. In the 1970s, sport fishers in Canada would dispose of blue fin tuna after getting their photos taken with the fish because it had no market value. These ingredients are no better now than when they were dirt cheap. Similarly, cheap ingredients taste no worse simply because they are cheap.

Expensive ingredients are a tool to fleece the customer. Because there isn't a huge supply of Hudson Valley foie gras, restaurants can charge us more for it. Pricey ingredients prop up the entire price restaurant cost structure. Sure, foie gras is really good. But so is chicken liver.

Pricey ingredients are what customers have been conditioned to expect. That may be why some people have such a hostile reaction to Feast, and why Poscol isn't getting the crowds it should.

When great chefs focus on cheap ingredients, it is an act of revolution. It is a way of opening our mind to foods right under our noses -- brilliant foods we have ignored because they lack social status.

So please keep showing me what you guys can do with cabbage, turnips, and fava beans. As you drive around throwing bricks out windows, I am having a great time just being a passenger.

And if some of you still don't get it, let me paraphrase George Clinton: "Free your mind and your palate will follow."

New Food Media

2009-09-25T09:12:00.006-05:00

A few recent developments in Houston food media:

Southbound Food Radio

Would you believe the best new source of information about Houston restaurants is on . . . AM sports radio?

Southbound Food is a weekly radio show about Houston restaurants with three great hosts:

Bryan Caswell: chef and co-owner of Reef and Little Bigs
Lance Zierlien: Houston's best am sports radio host (I'm a longtime listener)
Jenny Wang: the shining star at the center of Houston's Chowhound and blogger scene

I just discovered Southbound's podcsts, which include Randy Rucker explaining why he left Rainbow Lodge and new restaurants by John Tesar and Tony Vallone.

These are not only informative. They are a huge amount of fun.

Fearless Critic's new restaurant guide

A few years ago, I mentioned the first Fearless Critic Houston Restaurant Guide. Its reviews were mostly written by local chefs.

The new 2010 edition has just been released. This time, the new reviews were written mostly by Houston bloggers -- with a serious amount of editing.

Disclaimer: I was one of those bloggers. I will not make any money off the book. But it would be unfair for me to review it.

I'll leave you to decide: are reviews better written by professional chefs or amateur bloggers?

Houston's food blogs: dying or just changing?

Last year, Houston food blogs exploded. As Fearless Critic editor, Robin Goldstein, told me, Houston had the most exciting food blog scene outside of New York. And Houston's scene was more of a community than New York.

This year, the air seems to be rushing out the bubble. Many amateur food blogs have gone silent. Others are published less frequently. And they are less adventuresome.

Some of the bloggers have gone professional. The Houston Press hired several oustanding bloggers -- which is both a good and bad thing. On one hand, the Press's Eating our Words has frequent posts and is a great source of information. It may now be Houston's best food blog. On the other hand, you can feel the corporate control. Writers have to write a minimum number of posts. And the style is not as idiosyncratic as an amateur blog.

Of course, the same thing has happened to me. Although I'm not paid, I put more energy this year into Fearless Critic than this blog. The Fearless Critic had style guidelines. And my style changed to comply.

One by one, the bloggers have been co-opted by for-profit ventures. And the blogs have changed.

The energy also has diffused because so many bloggers now spend their time on Twitter. Twitter makes blogs seem wordy, old-fashioned, and old media.

Worse there has been a lot of public criticism about food blogs in Houston, including a rumor that food bloggers demand free food from restaurants. I seriously doubt that rumor is true, but the charges hurt the community.

Our food blogs have lost the high energy, DIY ethic of 2008 when we all did it solely for the love of food.

Perhaps food blogs will continue in a style that is more informed, restrained, and mature. Or perhaps the halcyon days of Houston's amateur blogs are over.

Zoe's Kitchen and a rant about BS chicken breasts

2009-09-24T08:55:00.009-05:00

Zoe's Kitchen

Zoe's Kitchen is a chain with over 25 locations across the South. They have two in Houston: Washington Ave. and S. Shepherd near 59.

The chain's "philosophy" is "simple, close-to-the-garden ingredients."

Great idea, right?

On my first two visits, I read the menu and left. Nothing sounded interesting. It was filled with chicken salad, chicken salad and fruit plate, grilled chicken kabobs, grilled chicken pita, grilled chicken dinner, and "protein power plate" (with grilled chicken).

Finally, a friend drug me here, and I found something I liked well enough -- grilled chicken breast with sides of grilled vegetables and white beans.

It is rare to find fast-food white beans. These were full of flavor -- garlic, rosemary. But the beans had been cooked too long. Imagine the texture of runny mashed potatoes. Still, they tasted pretty darn good.

The grilled vegetables had a smoky flavor and an al dente texture. They had not been cooked too long.

The center of the dish was Zoe's "power protein" -- a grilled boneless, skinless chicken breast. Or as I call it, BS chicken. It was coated with olive oil and some flavorful herbs. As BS chicken goes, it isn't bad.

The problem with BS chicken breasts

This dish left me wondering: why do so many Americans prefer BS chicken breasts?

If you care about flavor, and you have cooked many chickens, you learn a few things:

1 - Dark meat has more flavor. Ok, I understand that the world is divided between white meat fans and dark meat fans. But it is beyond dispute that dark meat have more concentrated chicken flavor. If you want to get "close to the garden," that is what chicken tastes like.

2 - Chicken tastes better when cooked on the bone with skin. Even if you don't eat the skin, cooking with skin and bone improves flavor. They add meatiness, protect the meat, and prevent drying. If you take off the skin, then you need to compensate with a lot of oil.

In short, BS chicken breast is chicken without all the flavor.

Why BS chicken?

Sure, a lot of people argue that BS chicken breasts are healthier. But I doubt the difference is very significant. I also think there are two other real reasons Americans prefer BS chicken:

1 - BS chicken fans are afraid of meat. They are the same people who don't eat a fish with the head. They fear body parts like skin and bone.

2 - Many BS chicken fans think of meat as "Protein Power" -- a industrially-produced substance divorced from the animal that created it. These are often the same people who drink protein shakes. The blander the better. For them, food's sole value is nutrition -- not enjoyment, not art.

BS chicken fans might as well be eating soylent green.

End of my rant

For a chain, Zoe's isn't bad. Some side dishes are pretty tasty.

I only wish that more restaurants would at least give us a choice:

Can't you at least offer dark meat?

And can't you serve some chicken that isn't BS?

Mole loco

2009-09-23T09:12:00.006-05:00

Mole: a recipe for creativity

At some point, my favorite sauce became mole -- but not all mole.

The problem is that mole is something of a generic term that refers to a wide variety of Mexican sauces. For instance, Pico's serves 3 moles, all very different. Pico's mole negro may be the best version of Mole I have found in Houston.

The most common mole here is mole poblano. It typically mixes dozens of ingredients -- almost always a variety of chile peppers, and sometimes dashes of exotic elements like peanuts and chocolate.

Perhaps because of the variety of ingredients, there are an infinite number of mole recipes. For most Mexican chefs, the goal is a mole that is not dominated by any one ingredient. Rather it is a balance, with a flavor all its own.

Mole gone wild

Of course, strange things happen to a dish in America. Many Houston restaurants are pushing the mole envelope, adding more sugar, more peanut butter. For instance, Teala's mole tastes like Thai peanut sauce. It's not bad. But is it mole?

So we all knew what would inevitably happen: someone was going to push the envelope with chocolate.

Cielo Mexican Bistro - Downtown on Main - serves a chocolate mole sauce. Note that the word chocolate is first.

I hadn't noticed mole on the menu. But when I ordered a spinach and sweet potato enchiladas, the waiter said I had a choice of three sauces. One of them was "chocolate mole."

The problem with giving a choice to guests like me is that we don't always make good choices. I chose chocolate mole. For some reason I thought it might work with sweet potatoes.

In fairness, these enchilladas might appeal to some people -- such as people who have a huge sweet tooth. The filling was heavy on sweet potato, and very sweet. The mole was also sweet. Really Sweet. Really Chocolatey.

It tasted like a chocolate rugelach -- or the inside of a chocolate croissant. Only a few slices of raw red onion cut through the overwhelming wave of chocolate and sugar.

This was, without a doubt, the sweetest, and strangest, mole I have tried.

Then the irony. After I pushed the remainder of the dish away, the waiter asked me if I saved room for dessert.

"Dessert? I just ate it."

Lola at breakfast

2009-09-20T11:04:00.006-05:00

Ken Bridge

Houston is going be hearing a lot about Ken Bridge.

Another blogger recently called him "a genius." Of course, he's not a genius like Marco Wiles or Scott Tycer. He's more a genius like Tillman Fertito -- but in an Inner Loop sort of way.

There are 2 secrets to his success.

1 - Bridge knows his target: the Inner Loop's mid market. His restaurants -- Dragon Bowl, Pink's Pizza, and now Lola -- identify under-served niches and exploit them. His food is rarely great, but almost always good.

A few years ago, I called Dragon Bowl's dishes "clueless" but "fun." Yet now I eat there at least once a month. It isn't authentic Asian food, but it has the flavors to make me return.

2 - Bridge believes in hard work. I've seen him stir frying veggies at Dragon Bowl, spinning pizza dough at Pink's, and now manning the griddle at Lola's. When he opens a restuarant, he becomes a line cook. And he stays until he knows everything is going just right.

So this morning I found Bridge flipping pancakes at the newly opened Lola. A bead of sweat was dangling from his chin. His nearly shaven head was glistening. He was working hard, really hard.

Lola - pricey diner food

At Yale and 11th, Lola is Bridge's diner-concept restuarnat -- imagine something in between Houston's cheesy 59 Diner and San Francisco's upscale Fog City Diner.

Or think of it as an Inner Loop Denny's -- just a whole lot better.

The breakfast menu is exactly what you expect: omelets, huevos rancheros, pancakes, chicken fried steak. Dinner includes meat loaf, flank steak, braised pok ribs, and miso sea bass. And lunch runs from burgers to a roast-beef-debris sandwich.

The pricing is aggressive. An omelet is $11. Pancakes, $9. A burger, $10 -- plus an extra buck for cheese! Dinner prices are closer to what you might expect -- $12 - $18.

At first the pricing surprised me. But then I thought Bridge must know what he is doing. He knows that people will pay a 50% mark-up for higher quality. And Lola may be his highest quality venture yet.

A plate of eggs

"Breakfast Lola" is the basic Houston breakfast -- eggs, bacon, grits and bacon ($11).

I was most impressed with the grits - consistently textured and flavored with parmesan. Grits work best with some salt and and a little fat. Some of Houston's better grits (for example, Breakfast Klub) do that with butter. But Bridge does it with parmesan. It is one of the best bowls of grits in town.

The eggs were good quality, but too watery for my "over easy" order. Of course, it is hard to fault a kitchen serving a huge crowd after having been open for two days.

Applewood smoked maple bacon was far more flavorful than most diner bacon. And the sourdough bread was better than most diner toast.

Even the coffee was noticeably richer, smoother, and higher quality than the vast majority of Houston breakfast joints.

Why Lola will do well

I will report again after I eat some lunches and dinners here. But this one simple breakfast plate proves to me that Lola will be a hit. There are times when everyone -- even funky Heights residents -- craves basic diner food.

Most Heights residents won't eat at Denny's. And most Heights breakfast joints are lousy. So Lola fills a gap.

Bridge is pushing simple, comfort food to a crowd who is hungry for it. He knows that if he increases the quality, he can get people to pay a lot more for it.

Bravo, dude.

Fish heads, almond soup, cheese or font

2009-09-18T10:34:00.008-05:00

Looking dinner in the eye

A few years ago, a reader asked where to find whole fish in Houston. Historically, Houston restaurants have limited themselves to filets of fish - with good reason. Some people freak out when they are served anything that still has eyes.

My thought? If I am going to eat a creature, I need to be willing to look it in the eye and cut it up myself.

Ibiza - stand-up fish

Last weekend, Ibiza served a Mediterranean fish (bream?) with a fascinating presentation. They managed to use the fish collar to prop it standing up on the plate.

Not only was this visually striking, but it avoided the problem of having to flip the fish over midway through the meal. Architecturally, this may be the best way to serve a whole fish - so long as you can keep it standing up.

Feast - giant fish head

It is one thing to eat a fish with a head attached. It is another to eat a fish with a head as big as yours.

Feast, as always, raises the presentation stakes. Last night, they served a roasted pompano head. The giant head took up a whole plate. It's giant eye stared at me.

Although it was a starter, there was enough meat in the cheeks and top and back of the head to make a whole meal. The deliciously oily fish was accented with lemon and sprigs of thyme.

Almond soup

Feast also is serving a fascinating chilled almond soup. Although it tastes creamy and decadent, there is no cream. The secret is almonds and high-quality olive oil -- with a few sliced grapes and a hint of garlic. This Spanish dish is as tasty as it is beautiful.

Cheese or font

Think you know cheese? Can you tell which words are cheese names and which are the names of type fonts? Then see how well you do with this time-consuming game.

Transitions and Turmoil

I have heard a lot of restaurant news and rumors lately:

-Jason Gould left Gravitas.

-Bedford closed.

-Brian Caswell and the owners of Reef are opening a new Italian restaurant in Bedford's location. Jason Gould is rumored to be involved.

-Randy Rucker left Rainbow Lodge.

-The owners of Glass Wall are rumored to be opening a burger shop in the Heights possibly named Burgerzilla.

-Randy Evans' Haven is coming soon.

-Ken Bridge (Dragon Bowl, Pink's Pizza) is opening a new restaurant called Lola at Yale and 11th. I heard it opened today.

It's going to be an interesting fall.

Foam at Waldo's Coffee House

2009-09-17T15:23:00.006-05:00

I finally found the anti-Starbucks.

Waldo's Coffee House on Heights Boulevard is as un-corporate as you can imagine. From the front door, you walk into a living room with tables, chairs, furniture. To order, you have to find your way through the house back to the small kitchen.

Good Foam

I asked the barista what she does best. "Cappucino. I make good foam."

Sure enough, she makes a very interesting cappuccino -- about 1/2 foam. It's thick, really thick. Nothing like Starbucks - or any other mega-chain.

Unlike a lot of independent coffee houses, this is not a work of art with designs like fern leaves. No, this is clumpy, almost cotton-candy like foam. The appeal is not visual, but textural. The thick foam may not appeal to everyone, but I like it.

A question of technique?

I quizzed her on about her foaming technique. "It's in the wrist." She grinned facetiously, then tried to give a few real answers. First she explained that she was trained by an European chef who knew how to make good cappuccino. Then she said that she experimented with technique for a while to get the best texture "because I know what I like."

If I were in her shoes, I would narrow it to just one good story and run with it.

Because a lot of people are going to be asking how she makes this foam.

Chez Roux - elegance in an inelegant land

2009-09-15T17:01:00.011-05:00

A beautiful restaurant on Lake Conroe?

When I think of Lake Conroe, I think of beer joints and all-you-can-eat buffets. The last thing I think is fine dining.

Perhaps that is why it took me a year to go to Chez Roux - a restaurant full of contradictions and surprises. The restaurant is in a gorgeous new structure next to the La Torretta Del Lago Resort.

The design is contemporary -- and focused on the product. The first thing you see in the center of the room is a giant, glass-enclased room with floor-to-ceiling wine racks, filled with wine. The next thing you notice is all the activity in the open kitchen. You can see parts of the kitchen from almost anywhere in the restaurant.

It feels like a high-end restaurant in London or New York. It feels like the last thing you would ever find on Lake Conroe.

Minimalist preparation, concentrated flavors

The food is contemporary, simple, and ingredient-focused. Most impressive is the concentration of flavors. The kitchen must have a Wonkavision device that shrinks big dishes to tiny bites, concentrating the flavor.

Consider this tiny pork belly beignet with grain mustard ice cream and turnip salad:

The cylinder of pork was about the size of a silver dollar. Yet the pork flavor was intense and accentuated -- not overcome -- by cumin. Similarly concentrated was the mustard flavor of the ice cream.

My wife passed me her Peeky Toe Maine stone crab with an asparagus and pea salad. She wanted to see if the crab "tasted ok." It was some of the most flavorful crab I have tried. She was concerned because it had a strong sea flavor -- and so much of the crab we have in Houston is bland and flavorless.

She was tasting the real flavor of crab for the first time.

Despite a few dabs of foam and chives, the crab was served without any accents. It didn't need them. Nor did these beautifully seared Massachusetts sea scallops:

Sea bass was nicely prepared with flaky flesh and crispy skin. But the flavor star of the dish was a "fondue" of green olives and vanilla gastric. The simple, punget flavors married well with the interesting textures of the fish.

Where the heck are we?

As I ate these dishes, I kept having to pinch myself as a reminder that we were still on Lake Conroe -- not transported by magic to London or Paris.

Yet there were reminders of Lake Conroe.

As we entered the restaurant, a noticeably drunk group stumbled in behind us. They carried plastic cups full of beer. Their shirts were untucked and they were red-faced from a day of golfing, boating and drinking Bud on the Lake. They slurred their words with boozy Texas accents. Then the bedraggled group was seated at the best seat in the house -- the Chef's table ($800 minimum).

Our charming waitress had a thick Texas twang, which she tried to cover with some faux European pronunciations. I thought she might be from Louisiana. It turns out that she was from Montgommery, Texas -- a small town on the banks of Lank Conroe.

The tables near us weren't ordering the same delicate dishes of crab and sea bass. No, they ordered the $96 Black Angus rib eye, more than 2 lbs. of thick meat.

It fit the stereotype: rich Texans without taste who love a giant steak.

I'm no snob. A giant steak can be glorious. It just isn't what I would order here.

The only thing wrong is the place

Chez Roux is one of the best restaurants in the Houston area. But it doesn't fit. It belongs in the middle of one of the world's great cities. It appeals to the sensibilities of that audience.

But these fancy ingredients cooked in French style ain't ever gonna appeal to the Lake Conroe crowd. And it is hard to see the restaurant changing the crowd that goes to Lake Conroe.

I only hope that time proves me wrong.

tacos a go-go

2009-08-27T14:03:00.003-05:00

Tacos A Go-Go is a little taco shop next to the Continental Club on Main. It has been getting a lot of attention in the press. Like its neighbor, the interior tries hard to channel an Austin vibe -- colorful decor and kitschy artifacts, including a shrine to the virgin surrounded with Christmas lights, and a giant bust of carmen Miranda.

When a place looks like that, I get suspicious about the food.

Fortunately, the food turns out to be pretty tasty. A chorizo breakfast taco was loaded with a generous serving of egg and sausage. For lunch, a carne guisada taco had large chunks of tender, stewed beef in a light-textured gravy.

I have had more flavorful chorizo elsewhere. And the guisada could have used some more cumin. Yet the quality of both tacos was far above average. And the hot red and green salsas will help if you are looking for more flavor.

The big surprise is barbacoa. After one bite I knew the flavor wasn't beef. It was my favorite meat -- lamb. It has the texture of the best taco-truck tacos, yet it is the gamey flavor of lamb that takes it over the top.

For my admittedly warped palate, this is as good as barbacoa gets.

tall sandwiches, egg on top

2009-08-14T10:00:00.004-05:00

If it happens once, it is an oddity. But when it happens twice, it's a movement.

Gravitas and Beaver's are serving narrow sandwiches that are so tall -- at least 5 inches high -- that neither will fit in your mouth. And both are topped with a messy fried egg.

Gravitas's Aussie Burger

Gravitas's Aussie Burger comes on a thick but narrow Kaiser roll, with a thick but narrow meat patty. Then it is stacked high with lettuce, tomato, beets (!), pineapple(!!), and an sunny-side-up egg (!!!).

I wasn't sure how to eat this burger. It did not come close to fitting in my mouth. So I tried cutting it with fork and knife. But that created an unwieldy mess that wasn't really a burger. Ultimately I had to eat the component parts separately.

The combination of flavors was intriguing, even if it was difficult to eat them all at the same time. The meat was juicy. And the whole thing looked stunning. But architecturally, it was a mess.

Would I order it again? Heck yeah.

Sadly, Gravitas's chef, Jason Gould announced his departure last week on Twitter. I hope he isn't leaving town and taking his tall burgers with him.

Beaver's Pit Boss Chickwich (pictured above)

This sandwich is almost as tall, topped by a fried egg, and extraordinarily messy. But the very architecture is an admission that you can't eat this one by hand. And that's ok.

Jonathan Jones' chickwich mixes shredded chicken with a spicy barbecue sauce. The bottom bun lays on top of a layer of sweetly dressed cabbage slaw. The chicken is topped with slices of jalapeno, an over-easy egg, and some thin, crunchy onion rings.

This sandwich simply can't be eaten by hand. The bottom bun is soaked by dressing from the slaw on one side and the sloppy chicken on the other.

Unlike the Aussie burger, this one was easier to eat by fork because the component parts were smaller and soggier. You could get a bit of chicken, slaw, egg, bun, and jalapeno in every bite.

A philosophical movement?

What's behind these impossibly tall sandwiches topped with an egg?

These chefs, like me, may be sick of the tiny little sliders, which are so cute and can be popped in your mouth in one bite.

In contrast, these behemoths aren't cute. And they can't be popped in your mouth. You can't even get your mouth around them. They are an argument for the sandwich as a manly, messy monstrosity that refusees to be reduced -- in size or flavor.

Restaurant closings

2009-08-13T16:55:00.000-05:00

Like everyone, I have felt a little pain from the recession. I have lost some income. My savings have been cut in half.

But I am lucky that nothing truly terrible has happened. I haven't lost my job. And none of my favorite restaurants closed.

That is, not until now.

Goodbye Mint Cafe, La Jaliscience

Mint Cafe was one of my favorite casual restaurants. The food was simple, Middle Eastern food, with a few interesting surprises.

Mint was run by a family. And the more we went, the more we felt like family. That makes the closing even harder to swallow.

La Jaliscience on Yale was one of my two or three favorite places to eat Mexican food. Like Mint, it was nothing fancy, just simple, inexpensive Mexican food. It also felt like family. And I felt like the crazy gringo cousin who could speak just enough Spanish to get by.

In the past few weeks, I have gone to both restauarants and found them shuttered.

The economy and restaurants

For the most part, restaurants in Houston have faired ok in this recession. Most of my favorite restaurants inside the Loop have stayed afloat.

Yet the Greater Houston area has had a lot of closings. Many of these are listed at b4-u-eat.

This lists suggests that the suburbs have been hit hard. Sadly, the end of nationwide recessions is often the hardest part for the Houston economy -- and for restaurants struggling to stay open.

Pho Binh 3

2009-08-04T14:05:00.006-05:00

Who makes Houston's best pho?

That is a question food bloggers can debate endlessly. In Houston, right now, the debate centers on 3 contenders:

-Pho Danh
-Thien An
-Pho Binh

The debate is complicated by the fact that Pho Danh has 3 locations, and Pho Binh has at least 7.

Pho Binh 3

Yesterday, I finally made it to Pho Binh's Mangum location. Apparently, it was the 3rd Pho Binh opened, but it is also the headquarters. So I thought it was a good location to sample.

The restaurant is a collection of smart business ideas:

1 - focus on only two Vietnamese dishes that every likes: Pho and grilled meats;
2 - open only for lunch;
3 - give a choice of exactly what meats to include (so the less adventurous can avoid tripe and tendon); and
4 - make the pho cheap ($6.45 for a generous "regular" bowl; $7.50 for a large).

It works. The dining room was packed by noon. And the crowd was diverse -- although about 80% were guys. (There is something manly about noodles).

Pho details

I tried a traditional version with rare steak, brisket, tendon and tripe:

The ultimate test of pho is the broth. This broth is much better than the average pho because of its spices. Pho almost always includes star anise and cinnamon. You might also find cloves, cardamom, or ginger.

This pho smelled and tasted like a spice market. It may be the most concentratedly spiced pho in town. I suspect this is why some bloggers think it is the best.

I sllightly prefer for Pho Danh for a few reasons. First, its broth tasted more complex, like it was cooked longer, even if the spice wasn't as strong. Second, Pho Danh provided a wider selection of accompaniments, including a variety of herbs. At Pho Binh, you only get one herb, plus japalenos, sprouts, and lime.

Still, these are minor quibbles. Pho Binh, Pho Danh and Thien An all make pho that is far, far better than your average soup with noodles, including all the swill that is often passed off as pho.

All 3 contenders demonstrate why pho is one of the world's great soups.

Venezuelan empanadas

2009-08-03T12:38:00.009-05:00

Empanadas again

In May, I started hunting for good empanadas. I didn't like strange crust flavor of the fried Argentinian empanadas at the Original Marini's. The fried hemp empanada at Ruggles Green were a little too greasy. The baked Argentinian empanadas at Manena's tasted best. Still, I had a feeling that I could do better.

Then a good friend offered to make her favorite empanadas from a Venezuelan recipe.

Feast of empanadas

When Lizzette brought out the platter of fried empanadas and arepas, I was a little overwhelmed.

Fried empanadas are usually heavy. So it is hard to eat more than one. Yet within 30 minutes, 5 people devoured the entire plate. Strangely, these fried empanadas almost tasted light.

There is no question. These empanadas were far, far better than the fried empanadas at Marini's and Ruggles. They didn't have the frozen burrito flavor. The crust had a clean, light flavor and a crispy texture.

Although we had a few varieties, my favorite had a filling of queso blanco and sugar cane. It was a striking contrast of sharp cheese flavors and with the sweetness of the sugar cane.

The secret - masa

Lizzette let me in on the secret of why these Venezuelan empanadas were so much better -- the crust is not made of flour, but masa corn meal.

Arepas

The last batch was a real treat. Lizzette tired of rolling out and folding empanadas. Instead, she used the same masa crust to make arepas.

We cut open and stuffed our own arepas with guiso de pollo, a stew of chicken, raisins, and spices. We then topped them with a fabulous green sauce called guasacaca -- made with a pepper called aji dulce, avocado, onion, bell pepper. tomatillo, garlic, parsley, and cilantro. The sauce was mild on pepper but heavy on wonderful garden flavors.

In both the arepas and empanadas, the masa added a texture of grainy earthiness. It also soaked up less grease than fried empanadas with flour crust. This crust was far superior.

Where to get Venezuelan empanadas?

Although you might not get the chance to have Venezuelan-style emapanadas at my friend Lizzette's house, I hear they serve them at Tuttopane bakery. I can't wait to try them.

Uni pics (uni dinner at Rainbow Lodge)

2009-07-29T10:01:00.006-05:00

I have written too much about Randy Rucker and the Rainbow Lodge. So I am not going to write about Randy's uni dinner at the Lodge a few weeks ago.

Instead, here are some photos.

Boston report

2009-07-28T11:25:00.014-05:00

The Boston food scene

When I lived in Boston in the early 90s, the food was dull. Upscale restaurants served "Continental" food, old-school Italian, and unseasoned seafood.

The city seemed afraid of flavors, paralyzed by its Puritan antipathy to pleasure.

But over the last 15 years, I had heard Boston's food was getting better. Several farmer's markets opened. And some innovative chefs set up shop.

Last week, I tried some of Boston's top-rated restaurants. The food was better. But it wasn't New York or Chicago. Heck, it wasn't even as good as the best in Houston and Dallas.

One restaurant was an exception. This little Japanese shop was serving food much more exciting than any Japanese food in Houston, or even Texas's best Japanese restaurant - Uchi in Austin. In fact, it may have been the best meal I have had in the past year.

Boston's amazing little Japanese restaurant is called O Ya.

O Ya

O Ya isn't glitzy. Its 37 seats are tucked in an old firehouse in a dead part of town. Many customers wear jeans and shorts, even though it is hard to eat for less than $150 a person.

Tim Cushman's dishes succeed with top-notch ingredients and brilliant flavor combinations.

Take for instance the scarlet scallop above. The impossibly large scallop is marinated in beet juice and sliced thinly to curve around sushi rice. It is topped with yuzu and tobiko. Scallop has such a delicate flavor that you don't want to tinker with it much. These light accents of citrus and earthy sweetness bring the scallop to life.

Sometimes, though, Cushman's accents get most of the attention. His best-known dish is hamachi served with a banana pepper mousse. The dab of green pepper is surprisingly spicy, and at the same time garden-fresh and delicate.

Cushman realizes that food's visual appeal is almost as important as flavor. These fried Kumamoto oysters had a perfectly thin, crispy shell - probably a tempura batter. They became a work of art when topped with squid ink bubbles (foam).

The same Kumamoto oysters show up in a completely different sashimi presentation -- in the shell with watermelon pearls and minced cucumber. This version was even more mind blowing than the first.

Cushman's flavors are surprisingly international, unbound by tradition. For instance, shima aji (amberjack) was served with Santa Barbara uni (sea urchin), ceviche vinaigrette, and cilantro.

In the hands of a lesser chef, this mixing of cultures can be vulgar, sensationalist, inauthentic. But this food was the product of a world-class chef, unconstrained by a particular tradition.

O Ya is part of Boston's thriving community of contemporary sushi fusion restaurants. Others include Ken Oringer's Uni, Oishii, and Oga's in Natick, MA. This is one food genre -- perhaps the only food genre -- in which Houston's scene just doesn't compete at the same level as Boston.

Other Boston restaurants

Boston's best-known chef is Barbara Lynch. We tried three of her restaurants -- No. 9 Park, B&G Oysters, and the new Sportello.

At No. 9 Park, I appreciated the intellectual combinations and artistic plating. Sometimes, the combinations were almost too brainy, such as lobster paired with monkfish -- a fish with a lobster-like texture once known as "poor man's lobster." These were served with chorizo and fennel. I liked the artsy combination, but the flavors were too restrained.

Perhaps the best dish was salade de courgettes, a playful assembly of different summer squash.

Park's much cheaper B&G Oysters was a fairly ordinary, but good quality seafood bar.

I was much more impressed with Lynch's newest casual restaurant -- Sportello. Instead of tables, the restaurant uses a lunch counter concept. You sit on a stool, watching all the cooking happen just feet away.

Dishes were simply prepared, market-based Italian food. The best dish was a remarkably simple salad of raw shavings of fennel and celery dressed with only olive oil and lemon. I also enjoyed a crispy-skin salmon dressed with summer beans and bacon. It is rare to find a restaurant that makes minimalism so appealing.

Finally, Kenneth Oringer's Clio was an interesting fusion of French and Asian cuisine, much like Jean Georges Vongerichten's restaurants. Oringer's dishes had a lot going on -- perhaps too much going on. The dishes do away with Boston's suppression of flavors, but they go in so many directions it is hard to keep track.

I'm not complaining. Given Boston's sad culinary past, creative restaurants like Clio and O Ya are what the city needs.

Anvil - Houston's best bar

2009-07-16T10:30:00.010-05:00

The problem with cocktails

I rarely drink hard liquor. But when I do, I want to taste it.

Perhaps that is why I never understood vodka -- booze without flavor. Or fruity rum drinks -- booze disguised to taste like fruit and sugar.

The sad fact is that most Americans who drink are not drinking for the flavor. They want a buzz. They want to lower inhibitions and meet people. Or just get drunk.

So I stopped going to bars. When I want to drink, I want an artisinal gin or small production American whiskey. I want it neat. I only want a little. I want to focus on it. So I drink at home. Alone.

Until now.

Anvil - temple to the cocktail

Anvil is not really a bar. It is a temple devoted to the art of the cocktail.

The priests behind the counter do rituals. The rituals take some time. You have to wait a while before you drink.

Last night, the man behind the counter selected an old-fashioned glass. He inspected it. And then he began to assemble. He carefully stirred some rye with large ice cubes. Slowly. Then he strained the rye into my glass. He poured absynthe over a small spoon letting it drizzle slowly into the drink. He carefully rubbed lemon peel around the outside. He occasionally sniffed the drink to check his progress.

He asked me whether I wanted the lemon twist in the drink. It looked so stylish that I said yes. I detected a slight grimace. Wrong answer.

The sazerac is America's first mixed drink, from pre-Prohibition New Orleans. It tastes like a liquor, not fruit juice. I was amazed by the quality of the rye. It was accented -- not disguised -- by bitters, absynthe, and a slight essence of lemon peel.

It reminded me of the product of a great sushi chef. No sugary sauce. No fried bits. Just high quality fish with wisely chosen accents.

Next I ordered an old fashioned. He prepared it with the same ritual and care. I felt honored.

Every drink comes with a large glass of water. The point is not to drink alcohol because you're thirsty. The only point of the alcohol at Anvil is flavor.

And Beer?

I can't imagine ordering anything at Anvil other than a cocktail.

But last night, another local blogger told me that he was a beer fan. "Where," I asked "can you get the best beer in Houston?" I was surprised at his answer:

"Anvil."

I never noticed any beer at Anvil. Yet apparently, it has an excellent selection of small-production beers on tap. Just as importantly, Chris said, they swap out the taps frequently. He explained that this prevents the beer from becoming stale. He told me that Anvil respects the beer better than anywhere else in town.

Maybe I will try a beer at Anvil someday -- after I work my way through Houston's best selection of American whiskey:

Austin's Mighty Cone

2009-07-14T14:29:00.003-05:00

There are two Austins.

One is new, corporate, industrious, and utterly without character. It is the new McMansions. The new chains of restaurants littering the suburbs. The cluster of highrise condos, with sleek trendy restaurants underneath.

The other is older, slower, anti-commercial, and wierd.

Guess which one I like?

The Mighty Cone trailer

Last Friday, my nephew walked me a mile down South Congress to a block of food trailers. Mighty Cone has set up in this "permanent" spot within the last year.

Despite the new location, Mighty Cone it is part of the Old Austin. The trailer is owned by Jeff Blank, the Chef/Owner of Hudson's on the Bend. Hudson's is one of Texas's best restaurants.

The trailer's origins are earlier, in 2002, when Blank took it to the Austin City Limits Music Festival. With each festival, the cones became so popular, that Blank decided to open the trailer permanently on South Congress -- one of the few areas that still feels like old Austin.

So what is a Mighty Cone?

The cone is a flour tortilla wrapped around fried chicken, fried avocado, mango-jalapeno cole slaw, and an ancho chil aioli. But that doesn't begin to give a hint of how good it tastes:

It is difficult to pinpoint what makes the Mighty Cone so great. Perhaps it is the texture of the unique breading made from nuts, seeds, corn flakes, sugar and spices. It creates a remarkable crunch, especially when you bite into a creamy slice of fried avocado.

Or perhaps it is the spicy, sweet sauce. It has a combination of peppers and sugar, which reminds me more of Thai peanut sauce than an ancho mayonaise.

The trailer also serves some other items -- sliders with "fois gras", a venison cone dog, and chili-dusted fries. They sound awfully good. But I was advised that I had to start by trying the Mighty Cone.

It was good advice. The Mighty Cone captures the feel of old Austin. Plus, I can't think of any better trailer food in Texas.

San Antonio's Le Reve

2009-07-08T09:06:00.007-05:00

As I bit into caramelized onion tart, something came over me. I wanted to say how good it tasted. But I found it hard to speak. I noticed a strange sensation in my eyes.

Was I tearing up? Surely not. Food doesn't make me emotional. But I almost felt like Proust and his madelaine.

The tart was amazing. A thin, flaky crust was topped with a layer of goat cheese and creme fraiche, and the sweetest onions I have tasted. Swirls of sauces on the plate included an unusual, translucent onion sauce and a lively basil puree. Together, they created magic. Art.

Le Reve

Gourmet Magazine has listed Le Reve in the top 10 American restaurants.

It is the finest dining experience I have had in Texas -- from the delicious tasting menu to precise service to brilliant wine pairings.

Of course, all of that comes at a cost. The dining room is small. Jackets are required for men. Dinner lasts about 3 hours. And the price of a tasting menu is $105, or $175 with wine pairings.

In New York, those prices would be a steal. But by Texas standards, it isn't cheap. The next day, I ate at Whataburger.

The full French tour

The tasting menu may not sound interesting on paper. Descriptions are brief: "Scallops" "Foie Gras" "Asparagus salad" "Line caught fish" "Beef."

It sounds standard. It sounds French.

And it is. But the beauty is in Chef Andrew Weissman's details. Foie Gras is served as a club sandwich with lettuce, bacon, jelly, and slivers of mango. It was an ultra-rich version of my favorite breakfast -- bacon and jelly on toast.

It was fun to watch other tables discover the foie gras club for the first time. A couple next to us look puzzled. Then, after a bite, they grinned. Within a few seconds they were laughing and gesturing, absorbed in the experience of the sandwich.

Almost as fun were scallops. Actually, it was only 1 scallop. Perched on a firm corn souffle that was exactly the same size and shape. Surrounding both was a sweet corn puree.

Wine

One of the most enjoyable parts of our meal was the Sommellier Fabien Jacob. He brought us tastes of 12 different wines, sometimes two different wines with a single course. And he discussed them all.

Jacob talks wine with animation. His mission as to inform guests about flavors and why pairings work.

And his pairings work quite well. Most wines were not pricey, and some perhaps not so interesting by themselves. But every one came alive with the dish they were picked to accompany.

If you like to talk wine, try going early or late so he can spend more time with you.

Endings

Even spaced over 3 hours, the 8 to 11 courses (depending how you count) were a little too much. We neared our limit with a plate of beef tenderloin and scalloped potatoes -- perhaps the least interesting dish.

But that was followed by a cheese plate, creme brulee, a lemon cake with chocolate mousse, and a plate of mignardises.

The desserts were delicious. Too delicious.

So as we left to wander down the Riverwalk, we were a little too full, and a little tipsy. But we knew we had eaten our favorite meal yet in Texas.

Tapas at Tintos Spanish Restaurant

2009-06-30T17:08:00.008-05:00

Tintos Spanish Restaurant & Wine Bar is a new Spanish restaurant in the River Oaks Shopping Center. It serves mostly tapas.

My first visit was promising. The restaurant channels a Spanish vibe -- art featuring bulls, wines racks on the wall, with flashes of modern design. The wine list has a very good selection of Spanish wines. Plus the sherry list is much better than most Spanish restaurants. Sherry, after all, is the wine best suited to this food.

And the food is quite good.

Delicious small plates

The best dish I tried was caracoles andaluzes -- snails in a creamy broth along with artichokes and sun-dried tomatoes. The broth was full of flavor. And like a bowl of mussels, we couldn't stop dipping in bread. The snails were not served with shells. They had a nice, slightly chewy texture.

Pinchos de ternera were better than I expected. I am a fan of lamb, but so often skewers are dull. Yet these were served with a bright and delicious cilantro mint sauce.

Even a house salad, arugula with figs and cabrales cheese, was an interesting mix of flavors.

I also enjoyed a mixed plate -- the Montadito plate -- which includes toast points with various combinations of Spanish ingredients, such as quail egg over chorizo and piquillo pepper with blood sausage and spinach.

Is it authentic?

The menu has a wide variety of dishes Spanish ingredients that attempt to invoke the flavors of Spain.

Yet, like other Spanish restaurants in Houston, this is not a real tapas bar. That's not a criticism. Most, but not all, tapas bars in Spain are dives with a small menu. Most focus on drinks more than food. Many have a handful of great dishes. But some serve crap.

Houston's tapas restaurants -- Tintos, Rioja, Mi Luna -- are more ambitious. They have large dining rooms that seat dozens of people. Their menus try to encompass the full range of Spanish foods in a giant tapas menu -- something most real Spanish tapas bars would never do. They also try to appeal to Houstonian tastes. Most of the time the food works. Sometimes it doesn't.

My first impression is that the food at Tintos works. It might even rival Rioja, the best Spanish restaurant in Houston..

Just don't call it a tapas bar.

Tony's revisited

2009-06-29T16:56:00.022-05:00

New chef, new menu

Tony's hired a new chef last year. His name is Francesco Casetta. He's from Florence. And he's good. Really good.

So good that Tony's may be back in competition with Da Marco as Houston's best Italian restaurant. And one of our best restaurants.

There's just one problem. Service. Despite its reputation, I tend to have service problems at Tony's. And my last visit may have been the worst yet.

Accoustics, upcharges, and an outdated wine list

Perhaps I can blame accoustics. Every time I go to Tony's, I am placed in a far corner. The accoustics in this particular corner were so bad that the waiter kept misunderstanding me. And when he misunderstood, I lost money.

First, we were charged $6 for bottled water when we didn't order it and didn't want it. (I would have protested, but I didn't scrutinize the bill until I left.)

Second, we specifically asked to split a single order of souffle. The waiter said, "yes, of course, sir." But we were charged for two orders -- a total of $25! Perhaps, Tony's doesn't let you split an order. But no one told us that.

Finally, we asked the waiter if he could get the wine guy to help us pick a bottle. I guess he couldn't hear me because he did not get the wine guy. I asked a second time. He misunderstood again and brought a wine the waiter himself selected -- a Pinot Grigio. (To paraphrase Miles Raymond, "I am NOT drinking any f--ing Pinot Grigio!") It wasn't until after our first course arrived that the waiter finally retrieved a sommelier.

On the plus side, I really like the new wine guy who only has been on the job a few months. He says he is working on bringing in some more interesting Italian wines. He selected a stellar, and unusual, Umbrian white that matched our food very well -- and was extremely interesting.

Most of the giant, but stodgy, list could use his help. So many wines do not match Italian food. Although it has improved in recent years, it still lists more California reds than Italian, more French reds than Italian, and more American Chardonnays than all Italian whites combined. Even the Italian part of the list focuses on a few well-known regions, excluding many parts of the country where some interesting wine making is happening. Why, for instance, does this list have so few of the great wines from Friuli and Alto Adige?

Jonathan (a Da Marco alum) gave me hope that he is working to change that. Let's hope the restaurant and its regulars let him.

Food: better and brighter

As Tony's waitstaff and wine list struggle to come out of the Dark Ages of "fine dining", its kitchen has emerged. With Casetta, Tony's has transformed from old-school dishes to simply prepared Italian dishes that highlight high-quality ingredients.

Crab cakes have been replaced by a "crabmeat tower" -- lump crabmeat held together by mashed avocado and surrounded by fresh heirloom tomatoes.

Carpaccio is a model of simplicity. Thin slices of beef tenderloin are paired with arugula with lemon vinaigrette, hard Italian cheese, and a drizzle of balsamic vinegar. It's the fantastic thick balsamic that makes the dish special.

Even better was Insalata Genovese - a delicately fried artichoke, surrounded by wheels of tomato and cucumber and a pesto sauce that exploded with flavor. The artichoke had been doused in lemon juice, which made it vibrant and light.

The best dish of the night was a special -- seared branzino with a Gavi / Meyer lemon reduction and plum tomatoes. The bright flavor of Meyer lemons gave life to the fish flavors, and the wine reduction added complexity.

To enhance flavors, this kitchen uses less salt and more of the acids from vinegar and lemon juice -- lots of lemon juice. It brings out the garden flavors from the high quality produce.

Before Casetta came aboard, I found that the dishes at Tony's were little more than the sum of their expensive parts.

That has changed. Casetta has found combinations that make dishes tastier than you expect. And it is even more remarkable that he does it with such simple preparations. In some hands, simpler can mean duller. But the dishes from this kitchen sing.

If only I could order them in a different dining room.

Inn at Dos Brisas

2009-06-26T10:31:00.011-05:00

Best restaurant in Texas?

Last year, the Mobil Travel Guide gave five stars to only 17 U.S. restaurants. And only one of those was in Texas.

What Texas restaurant got that rating? The Inn at Dos Brisas in Brenham.

A free meal

I had been planning to try Dos Brisas when a "press" friend made me an offer. Dos Brisas was hosting press and bloggers. If I took a day off work, I would get a free meal and wine.

I am rarely offered free meals -- because I'm anonymous. And even then, I don't write about them. It often is not a fair representation of the food.

But this was one I couldn't pass up.

The garden

Dos Brisas has a huge advantage over most restaurants. They get to grow most of what they cook. The inn is on a sprawling, hilly estate with a very large, organic garden. Your meal is picked hours before serving. There are a number of full-time gardeners.

Freshly picked vegetables really do taste different. For instance, these tomatoes tasted very sweet:

The garden flavors are highlighted by the subtle cooking of Chef Jason Robinson. I respect his approach: don't do anything change the fresh produce flavors. But don't go here expecting big flavors.

The tomatoes were accented only by herbs and a light "lemon essence." I did not detect any salt. And little, if any, oil.

Similarly, risotto balls are served on a puree of basil. Perhaps because the puree does not use much oil, the flavor of the basil does not spread out on your palate. You have to concentrate to pick up the flavor of basil -- perhaps that's the point.

I was surprised at how much of the meal came from the garden. Allegedly, the only dish with ingredients from elsewhere was a halibut in a cucumber, rhubarb broth.

The halibut was somewhat overcooked, and served more as a foil for the cucumber. It made sense: these folks are so proud of what they grow that they inadvertently dissed the non-local ingredient.

The most striking, and best, dish was this squash tian with garden ratatouille. A tian is a baked vegetable dish in layers. Thin slices of zucchini were beautifully wrapped around a filling of ratatouille. It tasted completely of the garden.

Even a dessert, eggplant beignets with eggplant ice cream, was focused on food from the garden. It tasted great, but I had a hard time detecting any eggplant flavor.

Wine and Cheese

The wine guy, Christopher Bates, is also part of the reason to go. They have a fantastic cellar -- focused primarily on European wines. He does a great job of pairing with the sweeter-than-average vegetables.

But the biggest surprise was the cheese. He is making his own cheese! I expected something amateurish. Instead I tried some of the best cheese I have had in this country.

What's the secret? I could speculate, but I won't. Let's just say that the cheese gets the flavor of some of those young European cheeses that we simply cannot get in the U.S. If you are a cheese fan, you know what I mean.

Conclusions

Best restaurant in Texas? I'm not going to say anything like that, especially after they paid for my meal.

Plus, for my tastes, the flavors are too restrained. This is subtle, elegant food focusing on fresh garden flavors. I respect that -- a great deal. I dig the philosophy. But my tastes are a little more wild and wooly.

Still, I am extremely impressed with the produce quality -- and the wine and cheese. Prices for most dinners start at $85 per person. The best option sounds like the all-vegetable tasting, which I believe costs around $140. Jackets are strongly suggested, and the place appears quite formal.

I am going to return. Next time, I will pay for myself. And maybe wear sunglasses and a fake Jesus beard.

Are French ingredients better?

2009-06-15T10:25:00.007-05:00

We may have surpassed the French

On Friday, I reviewed Au Petit Paris. I argued that French restaurants in America are rarely as good as French restaurants in France because French have access to higher quality ingredients. I argued that it is part of their culture.

Misha (Tasty Bits) kindly sent me a link to this article. It argues that the quality of ingredients in America is now better than France.

I haven't been to France in 10 years. It may be that high-end American restaurants now have access to better quality produce, meats, and seafood than French restaurants.

My lunch at Andre's

Still, in Houston I have never had any bread, or any cheese, quite as good as the bread and cheese in ordinary French convenience stores.

For instance, on Saturday, I had a ham and cheese sandwich from Pastisserie Thierry Andre Tellier in Uptown Park. The "French baguette" was not at all crisp. It had a texture that reminded me of hoagie bread. And it tasted dry. The cheese was tasteless. It reminded me of the shredded swiss packages you get at Randall's.

Andre's sandwich was not half as good as the worst convenience-store sandwiches I ate in France. The ingredients just were not as good.

Our best restaurants now may have access to superior product. Yet many of our mid-level restaurants could use some improvement.

Au Petit Paris - a little Paris in Montrose

2009-06-13T12:58:00.006-05:00

What's wrong with French food in Houston

So often, Houston French restaurants feel like American restaurants using French recipes. It is hard to find food that actually tastes like France.

You can't fault the restaurants. It is the entire American food distribution system. Our producers focus on scale, not quality. Ingredients here are rarely as good as in France.

Even the local, organic movement in America cannot compete with the quality as the French farmer. We lack the tradition, the culture, and the years of practice in perfecting the quality ingredient.

So when a restaurant pulls off a real French experience -- even just the experience of eating at a small Parisian bistro -- it is remarkable.

Au Petit Paris is almost a little bit of Paris

Au Petit Paris almost feels like a French bistro. It is located in an old converted house on a residential street. Each dining room is small, and a little cramped, like Paris. The walls are filled with Parisian photos. The restaurant tries hard to invoke Paris.

Yet this is not quite Paris. At one table a West U woman cackles loudly with a Texas accent. She has had a little too much white burgundy. At another table, two doctors are competing to dominate the conversation. On a busy night, the tiny restaurant is so noisy with loud Americans, that it can be hard to hear yourself.

A front patio offers outdoor seating. Yet Houston weather would destroy any illusion that you might actually be in Paris.

High quality ingredients, simple presentation, and a touch of innovation

The menu looks a bit dull. Most of the dishes are what you would expect from a bistro -- French Onion soup, escargot, mussels, duck confit, rack of lamb. And the kitchen sticks to traditional French preparations.

Yet the strength of this food is in the high quality of ingredients, simply prepared, with just enough innovation to impress.

Consider the signature dish, sautéed sea scallops. On one corner of the plate are three deliciously fresh (but not particularly large) scallops, each accented with a sliver of bacon wedged in the middle. In another corner are unadorned asparagus. And in the third corner is a puree of cauliflower, curry, and mustard. The flavors of the scallop, bacon, and asparagus are pure and simple, emphasizing the quality of each ingredient. The spiced puree adds an exotic note that sends your imagination off in another direction.

Just as good are the Burgundian escargots. Most American French restaurants serve escargot drowning in butter. Here, they served in tiny pastry shells designed to barely fit the snail. The genius of the dish is a garlic and herb broth that gets drawn up into the pastry shell.

Similarly, goat cheese salads appear too often on Houston menus. Yet here, the goat cheese is toasted on French bread, giving it a delightful crunch. It is served with a mesclun salad and a delicious rosemary honey dressing.

The kitchen is especially good with desserts. A light and fluffy chocolate mousse is infused with grand marnier and served with rich pieces of chocolate and tangy pieces of candied orange zest.

The real strength of this restaurant is its skill in buying ingredients. Many Houston chefs would kill to product this good.

A note on prices and the wine list

The menu prices may seem high, especially given the refreshingly small portions.

Fortunately, the food price is offset somewhat with a reasonably-priced French wine list. The list lacks the high-dollar wines from Bordeaux and Burgundy that distinguish some other French wine lists in Houston. But it does have a good variety of commonly available wines from those regions that are under $100, many under $40. It also has a decent selection of wines from the Rhone, Alsace, Champagne, and Languedoc. It is not a wine-destination restaurant. But it is nice to see one Houston restaurant with a decent selection of inexpensive French wines.

Banana Leaf

2009-06-06T16:44:00.009-05:00

Why doesn't Houston eat more Malaysian food?

It doesn't make sense.

Houston is a major city. We have a large Asian population.

Every year, a few Malaysian restaurants open. And every year, because of a lack of business, about the same number close. KL closed recently. So did Malaysian-influenced Mak Chin's.

Malaysian food is booming on the West Coast, . Yet right now, Houston only has 2 or 3Malaysian restaurants.

Houstonians ought to like this food. We like spicy food. Malaysian food is spicy. We like Chinese, Indian, and Thai food. Malaysian food lies somewhere between those cuisines.

Banana Leaf tries hard to make Malaysian food accessible

Banana Leaf tries hard (perhaps too hard) to make this cuisine accessible. It is located in one of Asia-town's newest, and most contemporary strip malls. The casual decor and friendly waitstaff are welcoming. The English menu is descriptive and easy-to-read.

Most importantly, you can see the dishes on TV. Every table along the wall has a small flat screen with a colorful slide show.

And the food looks quite good.

The best dish I've tried is banana leaf BBQ fish with flounder. The fish is served whole, covered in a funky, slightly sweet shrimp paste. The server debones the fish at the table.

It is rare to see whole-fish flounder in Houston restaurants. Yet it makes so much sense. Flounder is firm, yet not too thick. So it stands up to the wok cooking, while still absorbing the sauce. Its large bones make it easy to eat. Avoid getting the less expensive version of this dish with tilapia or the more expensive version with sea bass.

The restaurant is proud of its roti canai. Just behind the counter, in plain view of the of the tables, the cooks shape the fladbread in to large discs and throw it in the air. It is easy to forget you are not in a pizzeria.

The ultimate comfort food, this bread is served warm with textures of crisp toast and soft dough. It is served with a slightly spicy curry sauce. I found myself wanting a little more spice.

The rest of the menu reminds you that Malaysian food is the original pan-Asian food. The country's position as a trade crossroads is reflected in dishes that range from satay to curry to pad thai to Chinese-style flat fried noodles.

Stir-fried pearl noodles taste like they could fit on the menu of any Chinese restaurant. Yet the noodles have a fascinating worm-like texture -- almost like a gummy bear -- that makes the dish just a little more exotic.

No alcohol is served, but the kitchen makes some interesting drinks, including durian slushee and a satisfying, slightly sweet, Malaysian Ice Milk Tea.

If there is a gripe about Banana Leaf, it is that it doesn't do enough to differentiate itself from mainstream Asian restaurants in Houston. The restaurant seems to be holding back. For instance, the spices in sambal shrimp and beef rendang are muted compared to some Malaysian restaurants. I was left wondering whether the restaurant toned down the spices for the same reason it bought in the TV menus. Accessibility has its drawbacks.

Regardless, at this moment, this is the best Malaysian food we have. It is hard to imagine anyone who would not find something to like here.

6 reasons to love Vietnamese weddings

2009-06-01T14:39:00.020-05:00

Recently, I wrote about a traditional Vietnamese engagement, where I obtained a pig's head.

The engaged couple -- Mark and Ann -- were married Saturday. I was so taken with the beauty, art, and food at the wedding, I almost wished that I had had a Vietnamese wedding.

These are 6 reasons to love Vietnamese weddings.

1 - The clothes

Traditional American brides have only one dress -- white and , frankly, a little boring. Yet this lovely Vietnamese bride was required to wear 3 outfits during the day.

The first -- a red dress with stunning red hat -- was my favorite.

2 - The artistry

This wedding day had many beautiful touches you don't see in American weddings. For the initial ceremony at the bride's house, a relative made these beautiful green jello eggs:

The relative offered me an egg to eat. But it was so pretty, I didn't want to ruin it.

3 - The ancestors

We started the day with a small ceremony to introduce the families, secure permission for marriage, and to pray to the ancestors.

I appreciated the incorporation of the ancestors. At American weddings, we never any talk about the dead -- unless someone's close relative died within weeks before the wedding. In this ceremony, the couple sought the blessings of long-departed relatives. This communing with the ancestors invoked a sense of life's continuity, rather than placing all the emphasis on bride and groom.

4 - The Buddhas and monks

The wedding was at Linh Son Temple, near Dickinson. It was conducted by monks from the sangha, who seemed genuinely happy to conduct a marriage. They stood in front of large plastic Buddhas with lights flashing from their heads.

Because much of the ceremony was in Vietnamese, I understood few words. But after the wedding, I had a feeling of peace, as though I had been meditating for an hour. Perhaps something from the monks rubbed off on me.

Reason 5 - Yard art

I haven't been to many Buddhist temples. But if the Linh Son is any indication, Buddhists make great yard art.

After the wedding, the lead English-speaking monk encouraged everyone to walk around and "take pictures." If you like photography, a visit to Linh Son is a must.

Reason 6 - The food

Vietnamese weddings emphasize the feast. The reception guests were treated to a 9-course meal at Kim Son Ballroom.

I enjoyed ground shrimp wrapped around a sugar cane and coated with slivers of almonds. Most other versions of this dish in Houston skip the almonds. They added a nice crunch to a dish that is sometimes dull.

My table's favorite dish was a spicy, sweet salad of jellyfish, scallops, shrimp, and vegetables. Everyone ate it before I could take a photo.

Lobster with green onions and a savory sauce had an intriguing, salty/sweet flavor. Because the lobster was served in the shell, this dish forced all the anglos at our table gave up on chopsticks.

The most visually interesting dish was seafood birdsnest - a basket of baked noodles holding a mix of scallops, shrimp and vegetables.

Dessert was mixed fruit. When this dish arrived, my tablemates stared at it, without moving a spoon. Someone dared me to go first.

I reported to the table on the flavors: a little like a peach cobbler on top, strange pasty-textured substance on the bottom (red bean paste), and nuts that taste suspiciously like chick peas (ginkgo nuts?). I said I liked it. The rest of the table dove in. Sure, some of them stopped eating after a bite or two, but we were all happy to have had the experience.

Mark and Ann: Thank you for helping me see weddings a little differently. Have a long and happy life together.

Soma revisited

2009-05-27T10:11:00.006-05:00

I was wrong

I thought I knew Soma's storyline:

•Owners of upscale sushi chain (Azuma) start restaurant and hire star chef (Robert Gadsby) to run kitchen.
•Star chef's dishes are fantastic. Sushi bar is mediocre. Star chef leaves.
•Restaurant goes downhill.

The problem is that last part. I assumed Soma's food had gone downhill . I was wrong.

This weekend, I learned that Soma's sushi bar has improved. Sure, most dishes are not traditional sushi. And the fish is not in the same category as Teppay or Sushi Jin. But Soma's sushi fusion creations place it at the top of Houston's ever-growing heap of Americanized sushi restaurants.

firecracker tako

Our best 3 dishes were monthly specials. The first was called firecracker tako - diced octopus in a spicy sweet sauce on a bed of cucumbers and masago.

The octopus was spicier than I expected. It had a firm, but tender texture, which isn't always easy to get with octopus. The cucumbers made a refreshing foil for spicy seafood.

kaiseki roll

The second dish had little to do with the word kaiseki. Kaiseki is a Japanese multi-course dinner, much like a French tasting menu. Instead, this was an over-the-top Americanized set of 3 maki rolls:

1 - Spicy tuna wrapped in salmon and topped with chopped scallop and peppers.
2 - Tuna and shrimp tempura topped with tuna and king crab.
3 - Shrimp tempura wrappedn in avocado with crispy unagi (pictured below).

One of my biggest complaints about American "sushi" is overly complicated rolls that mix too many flavors and overpower fish with frying, pepper, and sugar. Yet somehow,these complex sweet and spicy rolls actually worked. For instance, a sweetened unagi balanced nicely with fresh avocado and a crispy tempura shrimp.

seared escolar

Fortunately, Soma also does simplicity. A seared escolar was served with a slightly sweet garlic sauce. The contrast of fatty fish with browned garlic was delightful.

I feared that the soma shrimp roll might fail from the weight of fried tempura shrimp, sweet eel sauce, and spicy yuzu wasabi. Yet the tempura was delicate and the eel and wasabi sauces modst enough to taste the shrimp.

I haven't tried cooked dishes from Soma's kitchen, now under the leadership of Gadsby's former protege, Philippe Gaston. We tried ordering a few kitchen dishes, but were told they had run out of the ingredients.

Soma still has that annoying meat-market atmosphere. And the Memorial-Day service was poor. The waiter repeatedly apologized throughout the meal for being short staffed.

Yet the food from the sushi bar was remarkably good -- much better than I expected.

Tenacity revisited

2009-05-25T17:50:00.009-05:00

Last year, Randy Rucker did a series of Tenacity dinners at his home. The food was pretty far out. So now that he's head chef at Rainbow Lodge, has he gone conservative, lost his chops, sold out?

Of course not. These are a few highlights of the Tenacity dinner at the Rainbow Lodge, last Thursday:

uni custard, salsify bacon, creamy miso

"Uni isn't for everyone," Randy announced when he brought out this:

I adore good uni because it captures the essence of the sea. Some people don't like sea essence. (Like my mother told me yesterday, "I don't want my fish to taste like fish.") So Rucker wisely toned down the sea-foam quality of uni by pairing it with a light miso cream.

The most unusual part of this dish was the dried, smokey strips of salsify. Salsify is a root that, when cooked, usually tastes like an oyster. In this dish, it tasted more like bacon. It made a good contrast.

salad of shark ham, running squirrels wild greens

Few chefs get their hands on Running Squirrel's hand-foraged greens. Running Squirel is a 75-year-old Native American who gathers wild greens near Fort Hood, Oregon. The flavors of these herbs, greens, and flowers range from floral to bitter. Every bite is intensely interesting.

Randy made it even more interesting with foam and bits of shark ham cured in toasted kombu. The bits of cured shark tasted salty and smokey, like a good smoked trout, but better.

fricassee of burgundy snail & snapper roe

Rucker has been playing with snails. A week earlier, his steak special was a filet mignon with a Bordelaise sauce and snails. He has a good snail supplier. These snails are firm, meaty, delicious. Here he paired them with smoked toast and an orange sack of smoked snapper roe.

I am a new fan of smoked roe sacks. (The first I tried was a few months ago at Feast). The flavor combines a salted fish flavor, like anchovies, with a bacon flavor. I hope to see more of this ingredient.

bison liver, barbecued morels, sour ketchup

Although liver may be my least favorite organ meat, this one was light and airy. The bison liver tasted a bit sour, perhaps from the sour ketchup.

Yet I enjoyed this dish because of an over-the-top barbecued morel mushroom. Morels have a complex, pourous texture that allows them to soak up flavors. Here, the giant morel soaked up quite a lot of barbecue sauce. The flavor was sweet, sour, and decadent.

These 4 dishes are just a sample. Rucker served 12 courses over the space of several hours. The dinner was consistently interesting.

Has Tenacity changed?

At Rainbow Lodge, Tenacity is a little more expensive. The crowd is a bit older. And the wine and service are better. But Rucker's dishes remain just as avant garde.

I hoped Rainbow Lodge would bring him to a larger audience. It has. I worried it might dull his edge. It hasn't. Yes, he does a great job with a mainstream beef filet. But he has kept in touch with his more radical roots -- even salsify.

Empanadas Part 3 - Hempenadas at Ruggles Green

2009-05-19T10:04:00.007-05:00

Much ado about hemp

A commenter suggested I should try "hempenadas" at Ruggles Green, the new certified green restaurant on Alabama.

The dish comes with 3 empenadas made with "High-Protein Hemp flour" and "Nutty Hemp Seed." Depending on your view, the hemp ingredients may sound a little goofy, or even a little subversive, given social attitudes toward hemp's psychoactive variant, marijuana.

The truth is, I didn't taste anything uniquely goofy, subversive, or hempy about these empanadas. Of course, I couldn't tell you what hemp tastes like. But I expected something grassy, nutty, or weedy. I just didn't taste it.

What is the fascination with hemp and hemp products? Maybe it has health benefits. Or maybe if you eat a dozen, you might feel light headed and get the munchies. But after three greasy, fried hempenadas, I just felt full.

So how do they taste?

The crust tastes much like the fried empanadas at Marini's. If anything, the Ruggles' version tasted a little greasier. And, yes, it had that same frozen-burrito-like flavor.

But Ruggles does a lot to cover up that flavor. The tasty filling includes ground beef and raisins. More importantly, the hempenadas come with two very Ruggles-tasting dipping sauces - garlic and cilantro. The delicious sauces kept me from tasting the off-putting flavor of the crust.

With the great sauces, I enjoyed the first hempenada. But an order includes three. I tried to pawn the others off on my family. After taking a bite, my daughter made a disgusted face. After just a smell, my wife turned up her nose.

So I was left to eat all three grease bombs, which left me too full to enjoy my "hydropnic" butter lettuce wedge salad.

Conclusions

1 - At this point in the empenada wars, the baked empanadas at Manena's reign supreme.

2 - For now, I reserve judgment on Ruggles Green. The few dishes my family tried here were not as good as similar dishes at Ruggles Bakery in Rice Village -- a restaurant we enjoy frequently. Plus Ruggles Green seems unnecessarily pricey for such casual food. Yet so many dishes on the menu sounded delicious. Kudos to the menu author(s). I suspect that next time we will order better -- and maybe skip the hempenadas.

Empanadas Part 2 - Manena's and Rustika

2009-05-18T11:30:00.008-05:00

Battle empanada

Apparently, empanadas inflame passions. The commenters to my last post seem to care a lot about the Marini's vs. Manena's comparison, even before I finished making it.

Perhaps that should not be a surprise. Marini's Empanada House and Manena's Pastry Shop are destined to be competitors. They have similar names. They are both on Westheimer, about 2 blocks apart. Marini's is just inside the Beltway, Manena's just outside.

The feel is completely different. Whereas Marini's feels at home in its suburban strip mall along side chain restaurants, Manena's feels like a real bakery. Much of the staff and many customers were Latin.

But the difference that matters is in the empanada.

Manena's empanadas

Unlike Marini's, which serves dozens of international varieties, Manena's only serves six traditional varieties. And Manena's price is a little cheaper. I ordered a beef and a spinach. I hat to take them to go because all 10 tables were full.

The beef filling had the same ingredients and flavors as Marini's gaucho empanada. The big difference was the pastry crust.

Manena's empanadas have a more delicate, baked crust. It is toothsome and it holds the empanada together, without falling apart. The crust's flavor compliments, rather than distracts, from the filling.

Yes, I realized, I really do like empanadas.

In Argentina, empanadas may be baked or fried. Typically, restaurants and bakeries bake them. At festivals, they are fried.

One commentor said that Manena's empanadas were greasier than Marini's. I found the opposite to be true. But more importantly, it was the flavor of the Marini's empanada crust that completely turned me off.

Ultimately, it may be a matter of personal preference. Some folks may prefer Marini's. That burrito-like fried flavor may not bother them.

To me, there was no competition. Manena's serves the best empanadas I have tried in Houston -- so far.

[Update: I just noticed that Katharine Shillcutt wrote a much longer report on Manena's last week in the Houston Press. It is worth reading.]

Rustika Cafe & Bakery

Rustika, on Southwest Freeway near Buffalo, deserves an honorable mention. Their empanadas are also baked. The breading is thicker and grainier. It tastes like whole wheat flour.

The ground beef empanadas have slightly different fillings -- ground beef, corn, carrots and no egg. The flavor is good, if not quite as exotic. The chicken mole empanadas are even better.

My only complaint was the method of re-heating. Rustika's empanadas sit in the bakery counter from breakfast time. They are re-heated by microwave. As a result, the grainy crust tends to get soggy and fall apart. You really need to eat these with a fork, which takes away some of the fun.

I would love to try a Rustika empanada right out of the oven. That might be a worthy competitor to Manena's.

More empanadas?

A lot of commenters have suggested I try other empanadas-- Tuttopane, Americas, Catalan, and Ruggles Green's "hempenadas."

I can't wait to try them all.

Empanadas Part 1 - The "Original" Marini's

2009-05-14T09:59:00.006-05:00

An empanada quest

I'm trying to find Houston's best empanadas.

Why empanadas?

It goes back to my childhood. In 1970s Houston, I was not exposed to much ethnic food. Houston had some Tex Mex, bad Chinese food, some Swiss fondue, Antoine's Imported Foods, and a creperie. Not much else.

At a time before Hot Pockets and Calzones, and before South American food ever came to Houston, an empanada was an exotic thing.

The place to get emapanadas was Marini's Empanada House in the Montrose. Opening in 1971, it was a funky, bohemian joint that served exotic South American food for cheap. Marini's was pretty cool.

The original location burned in 1985. The family did not reopen for years.

When I started to research emapanadas, I learned Marini's has returned.

The new "original" Marini's

The new Marini's has a confusing name -- The Original Marini's Empanada House. It may be operated by the original family, but it is not the original "house."

The new version is a lot less funky. Two locations include Katy and far West Houston on Westheimer. Given its popularity, I expect to see more.

The Westheimer location is in a typical suburban strip center with a Chili's. Inside, this Marini's feels a lot like a Chili's. The walls are covered with chotchkies and brightly colored photos. Or if you have ever seen Office Space -- "flair."

The feel was oddly corporate, like a protype chain restaurant ready to spread nationwide. The clutter on the wall seemed calculated to convey an atmosphere of fun. Just like Chili's, it doesn't work on me.

Yet it must work for some people. On a Tuesday at lunch, Marini's was crowded.

The menu tries to offer something for everyone. There are dozens of international varieties, including Italian Marcello (with pizza sauce, sausage, and mozarella), English (ground beef, peas, worcestershire sauce), and poblano (chicken with mole). There are even more than 20 dessert varieties.

Empanada details

I ordered the most traditional kind of empanada - the "gaucho" which includes ground beef, hard-boiled egg, and olive. And I also ordered one of the fusion empanadas - barbecue beef.

I liked the subtle, unusual flavors inside the gaucho. But I did not like the flavor of the pastry crust. The taste reminded me of fried burritos in elementary school, the same sort of flavor you get from some frozen burritos in convenience stores.

The crust of the savory empanadas does not look very fried. But it has a distinctive fried flavor. Don't get me wrong. Fried foods can be great. But this was a particular kind of fried dough flavor that I have been trying to escape ever since those burritos in 1st grade.

The barbecue beef was a little better, but only because the strong sweet and tangy flavor of the barbecue sauce overwhelmed the flavor of the crust. Yet I did not find much to recommend it over a frozen Hot Pocket.

The dessert was easily the best. It was a tiny, over-the-top, deep-fried empanada with lots of sugar and cherries and a little chocolate. Yet it hardly made up for the main courses.

There is nothing worse than returning as an adult to iconic memories of youth, and then having them smashed. What went wrong? Were Marini's emapanadas better in the 1970s? Or have my tastes have just changed?

Whatever the reason, I am no longer a fan.

Marini's leaves me with questions

As I left, I couldn't help but wonder:

-Do all empanadas have that icky fried flavor?

-If I don't like Marini's, would I like empanadas elsewhere?

Next: These questions are answered at Manenas Pastry Shop and Rustika Cafe & Bakery.

Louisiana in Houston (Calliope Po-Boy, Catalan)

2009-05-03T16:18:00.011-05:00

As oyster season ends, I have been searching Houston for a real New Orleans oyster po-boy. Nothing quite worked -- too much batter, the wrong bread, the wrong sauce. It all confirmed an old complaint.

Apart from Brennan's, Houston never has had much good Louisiana food.

Then, in one surprising day, I found five great Louisiana-style dishes.

Dish 1 - Calliope Po-Boy - boiled crawfish

This one was a freebie. Calliope Po-Boy had a one-day special of all-you-can crawfish for $26. It was mid-afternoon. Few customers had taken the deal. After I ordered a po-boy, the Asian woman behind the counter asked if I would like a few crawfish.

Boiled crawfish are almost always the same. Everyone uses one of two or three standard boils. Yet these were different.

First, they were big and beautiful. Second, they smelled of curry or herbal lemon. I asked the woman, "do these have lemongrass?"

"No," she grinned. "Sometimes we use lemongrass in crab boil, but we're out today."

"So what's in it?"

"It's a secret." She grinned even bigger.

The crawfish had the usual spicy, salty Louisiana boil flavor, but something exotic and Eastern in the aroma.

Dish 2 - Calliope Po-Boy - Soft Shell Crab Po-Boy

I came to Calliope to order an oyster po-boy. But I didn't. It was May 2. May has no "r." So I knew the season was winding down. And I had been on a run of bad luck with oyster po-boys. So I ordered one with soft shell crab.

This was as I remembered the best New Orleans po-boys. French bread that is crunchy outside, soft inside. Lightly battered, yet crispy seafood. Shredded lettuce, tomatoes, and mayo. The crab po-boy was a mixture of the fresh garden and briny sea, a play of contrasting textures.

Dish 3 - Catalan - Crawfish and Biscuits

I didn't go to Catalan to find Louisiana food. But it found me.

Apparently, two of the kitchen's chefs have background in creole restaurants. Without knowing this, my wife and I unintentionally ordered 3 dishes inspired by creole cuisine.

The first was a biscuit filled with a thick brown sauce with crawfish and andouille sausage.

This was a complex dish of fabulous flavors -- meaty, spicy, sweet. Yet the grainy biscuit made it southern comfort food.

Dish 4 - Catalan - Crab belly, argugula, tomato

In a great day of food, this dish wow'ed me more than any other. The thick, sweet crab was battered similar to the soft shell crab earlier in the day. It rested on a firm, full-flavored tomato, nestled in a bed of bitter arugula with a sweet dressing. On the side was the a splash of the spiciest remoulade I have tried.

Dish 5 - Catalan - Black cod in a crab & corn bisque

Black cod, with its firm large flakes, may be my favorite fish. This piece had been lightly charred, almost caramelized - a nice touch. But the meat was slightly dried, perhaps from a few seconds of overcooking. The dish was saved by the delicious bisque under the fish. Small bits of crab floated along with remarkably sweet kernels of corn in a delicate, creamy sauce.

The dish was more subtle, and perhaps less exciting than anything else that day. Yet it made a elegant end to a glorious day of big flavors.

Yes, I decided, it is possible to find a little Louisiana in Houston.

Cyclone Anaya's - margaritas and memory

2009-05-01T16:12:00.004-05:00

This post is about food, drink, and memory.

The original Cyclone Anaya's

I have good memories about the orignal Cyclone Anaya's on Durham. Yet I remember very little about its food.

As a college student in the late 1980s, Cyclone's had certain benefits. It served delicious margaritas. My friends and I were never carded. And as college students on a budget, we appreciated the giant margaritas. They had a generous alcohol-per-dollar ratio.

Yet that was also a problem. After two Cyclone's margaritas, I never remembered the food, nor for that matter, the rest of the night. At best, I had vague, impressionistic memories of grilled meats and chile rellenos. I recalled struggling to calculate the tip -- and not much after that.

Was the original Cyclone Anaya's the best Mexican restaurant of its day? I can't tell you. I don't remember.

New Cyclone's, same old margarita

After closing for some years, Cyclone Anaya's has reopened in multiple locations. Recently, I found myself at the location on Woodway.

Apart from Cyclone's giant photo, everything feels different. The crowd is not the inner-city cool, but Memorial-area families. The restaurant feels like a chain.

Yet memories flooded back when I tasted a margarita. My brain instantly recognized that recipe -- sending conflicting signals of pleasure and danger. The margarita is full of flavor, and full of alcohol. It is the first margarita that I ever grew to love, and one I will never forget. (I felt like Proust biting into the madeleine and experiencing the rush of memory.)

Before food arrived, I already had finished my large margarita. I faced a hard choice. "Would you like another?" the waitress asked.

My brain raced. On one hand, this may be my favorite margarita anywhere. On the other hand, if I had a second, I might not remember the food. I might not ever know what Cyclone Anaya's tastes like.

No, I decided. Now I am an adult. Tonight, just one margarita.

Finally, I eat and remember Cyclone's food

Enchiladas Anaya's grabbed my attention. The menu describes them as "gourmet enchiladas." They include chicken or beef with chile ancho sauce, cheese, and mushrooms.

I liked the strong, earthy flavor of the ancho chiles. And I thought mushrooms worked surprisingly well in an enchilada. But something struck me as wrong.

After a few bites, it hit me. The sauce had a lot of sugar. Then I began to notice sugar in other parts of the meal. The beans tasted sweet. Even the salsa tasted sweet. Was the kitchen trying to pander to the American palate, like so much industrially processed food?

Sugar has its place. But not in enchilada sauce. I remember a California-based fast-food Mexican chain from the 1980s (Del Taco?) that served a sweet sauce. I never liked it. In Tex Mex, even in "gourmet" Tex Mex, sugar just seems wrong.

My wife ordered ceviche.

I asked her what she thought. She shrugged. I tasted it. I shrugged.

The fish was fresh, and the lime was strong. But nothing about this simple dish grabbed us. Perhaps we are jaded after eating such fabulous ceviche recently from chefs like Randy Rucker and Bryan Caswell.

Since the kitchen liked sugar, we thought they might make a great dessert. Tres leches had a texture more like "una leche" -- a lot of creamy icing, but a comparatively dry interior. Yet we did like the cinamon flavor of the cake.

No dish was bad. Yet no dish was memorable. Nor did they trigger any memories about how Cyclone Anaya's food may have once tasted.

Did I have these dishes 20 years ago? What did I think about them then?

I haven't a clue. All I remember is the margaritas.

And perhaps the margaritas are the best thing to remember about Cyclone Anaya's.

Breakfast at Los Dos Amigos

2009-04-30T16:59:00.008-05:00

Los Dos Amigos

Once upon a time, there were two friends - my old law partner and me. We met once a week for breakfast to talk business at Los Dos Amigos on Washington.

It isn't the sort of place you expect for high-power breakfast meetings. The crowd is a mix of construction workers and Rice Military locals. There are only about 10 tables, each with vinyl tablecloths. Speakers play mariachi and conjunto music.

The crowd is an ethnic mix, and the staff is bilingual. Yet it is the sort of place where even the gringos in ties try to practice their Spanish, just for fun. The staff doesn't even bother to hand menus to half the customers. They know what they want.

Huevos Divorciados

My friend and I no longer work together. And when we do meet now, it is usually someplace upscale for lunch. So I hadn't thought of Los Dos in years.

But this morning I dropped in by myself, just for old times sake. I ordered an old favorite - huevos divorciados.

Two eggs are cooked over easy, but divided on two sides of the plate. One is topped with a green salsa. The other is topped with red. Sides include refried pinto beans, a few french fries, and corn tortillas.

This simple, cheap plate stands above many other Mexican breakfasts for a few reasons. One is the very spicy salsas. I have a high tolerance for heat. Yet after just a few bites, I found myself hiccupping - a sign of a very spicy sauce. These salsas are also notable for large chunks of fresh peppers and tomatoes.

The dish also stands out for the refried beans. The texture is runny, especially as the beans mix with the salsa and egg juices. But the flavor is mysterious, meaty, smoky. Only a handful of Houston restaurants serve refried beans that taste this good.

The best strategy is to save the corn tortillas for the end, to mop up the runny, messy goodness that is left on the plate.

This morning, my beautiful plate of food, plus coffee, cost only $2.90.

I also have tried Los Dos Amigos for lunch. Most dishes are decent, and a good value. Yet it is the breakfast that made this spot an old favorite.

White asparagus at Charivari

2009-04-24T07:34:00.006-05:00

It's the season for white asparagus

Spring is the high season for white asparagus.

I much prefer white asparagus to green. It has a more delicate flavor -- less bitterness, less vegetation. And it is often softer in texture. Unlike green asparagus, the stalks are grown without light to prevent the plant from producing chlorophyll.

It is not that white asparagus is a great ingredient. It has a slippery, squishy texture. Its flavor is bland and unexciting, yet elegant and refined.

Which is much how I think of Charivari.

Charivari

Charivari serves authentic, old-school European cuisine. The chef/owner is Romanian, but spent years cooking in Germany before moving to the Texas.

Walking in this restaurant is like stepping back in time to Houston's idea of an elegant restaurant 30 years ago. The dining room is framed by dark red, elegant curtains. Tables have white tablecloths and flowers. This is what fine dining looked like before most high-end restaurants chose a more contemporary style.

Appropriately, the customers at are older. At noon, many white-haired genetlement wear suits with ties and a matching handkerchief in the pocket. It might have more customers if it were located in Tanglewood or Memorial, rather than Midtown.

The White Asparagus Menu

For some reason, I only remember to go to here in Spring, when it serves a special white asparagus menu. For this lunch, I started with a white asparagus soup. The soup was cream-based, with lovely tender chunks of white asparagus. It had very little salt -- a rarity in Houston. The testure of the soup was silky smooth. And it was topped with sprinkles of chives and baby parsley.

My initial reaction was that the soup tasted bland. But after a few bites, I changed that description to "subtle."

It was the sort of dish we do not find very often in Houston. At first, it did not grab my attention. Yet when I gave it my attention, I began to notice simple and elegant flavors that my jaded tasted buds rarely pick up.

A second dish was asparagus risotto. Chunks of white asparagus mixed in the rice made an interesting comparison with the green asparagus spears placed around the edges.

The dish had less flavor than you find in most risottos served in Houston restaurants. But the dish displayed elegant textures. Like the soup, I had to focus my attention to pick up the subtle flavors.

All the dishes I have tried at Charivari are like these. The quality of ingredients is exellent. The preparation reflects the labor of a precise and dedicated chef.

The dishes may not grab you at first, but like great music and literature, they reward sustained focus and attention.

Beast

2009-04-22T17:10:00.006-05:00

It runs in the family

My nephew lives in Silicon Valley and writes a food blog. Or more precisely, he has a blog that is often about food. His latest post is about a meal at a nose-to-tail restaurant in Portland, Oregon.

After the meal, in the parking lot, his younger brother "proudly proclaimed that this was the best dining experience of his life, as if we needed some sort of confirmation."

Nose-to-tail in Portland

Curiously, the restaurant in Portland has a name similar to Houston's own nose-to-tail establishment.

Ours is called Feast. Portland's is called Beast.

Feast and Beast opened in the same year. Last weekend, I asked Meagan and James Silk if they were aware of any connection in the name. No, they said. They had not heard of Beast until after they had opened Feast.

Of course, the nose-to-tail movement is traced back to British Chef, Fergus Henderson, who wrote "The Whole Beast: Nose-to-Tail Eating."

But lest you think Beast and Feast are copycats, or part of a trendy fad, take a look at both restuarant's daily menus. (Feast is here; Beast is here). They are quite different in both ingredients and styles.

Beast's dishes use precious and trendy ingredients -- morels, foie gras, fennel. In contrast, Feast's dishes rescues the underapprediated ones -- prunes, greens, rutabaga.

Beast's dishes sound more Franco-centric. Feast leans more toward Brittain and Spain.

Nose-to-tail is more a philosophy -- like the "eat local" philosophy -- rather than a style of cooking. You can use all parts of the animal, or cook with all local ingredients, and yet still cook them in any number of different styles.

It is a mistake to dismiss either restaurant as a fad, or to assume nose-to-tail is the essence of their cuisine. It takes a lot more than a little philosophy to make a great restaurant.

Feast -- like Beast -- has a lot going for it, even without the nose-to-tail thing.

Yia Yia's Roadster Grill

2009-04-16T21:29:00.011-05:00

The perks of using a former Taco Bell

It can only help to open your restaurant in a decaying structure that was once a Taco Bell. First-time customers will have terribly low expectations. And it's easy to exceed them.

I suspect Yia Yia's Roadster Grill, on Bissonnet near Bellaire, has a big following because it continues to excced the expectations engendered by such a lousy location.

For the same reason, I was once a long-time fan of The Last Concert Cafe. The funky, run-down location in the warehouse district surely looked like it was once a bordello. It didn't matter that the Mexican food was average, at best. You feel proud of yourself for finding even average food in such a dingy-looking joint.

Greek food that beats expectations

Yia Yia's Roadster Grill serves a variety of burgers, hot dogs, and Philly Cheese Steak. They also have a handful of Greek dishes -- gyros, souvlaki, Greek salads, and moussaka.

Let's be honest about our city. Houston's Greek food is not very good. There are some decent Greek restaurants with higher quality and more variety, such as Alexander the Great Greek and the overly-commercial-feeling Yia Yia Mary's. But the greek dishes I tried at Yia Yia Roadster are better than similar dishes at other Greek places, like Niko Niko's. And the burgers aren't bad either.

Moussaka

The moussaka is less greasy than some other places (Niko Niko's). The casserole's different layers -- eggplant, bread crumbs, ground meat, bechamel -- are remarkably distinct. The bechamel top is crisped in the oven. In short, it is a very nicely constructed moussaka.

Yet the construction of this dish doesn't quite make up for the fact that the flavor of moussaka is almost always a bit dull.

Recently an acquaintance from Europe explained a theory about immigrant food. When immigrants bring the food of their homeland with them, the food remains frozen at the time of the immigration. Yet in the home country, the local cuisine continues to progress. That may explain why American Italian food is almost all pasta and tomato sauce -- dishes that were popular at the time of mass immigrations from Italy, but have little to do with the best food currently served in Italy.

Although Moussaka looks and sounds exotic, its taste and texture seem a lot like a late 1950's American casserole. These days, Americans don't eat many 50's style casseroles. Which makes me wonder whether modern Greeks eat much moussaka. I keep forgetting that moussaka is not my favorite dish. Still, Yia Yia Roadster's version may be my favorite in town.

Surprising attention to ingredients

I liked the other dishes I tried. Anonymous Child's burger had a nice grill flavor. And her fries were crunchy.

A Greek salad highlighted the good ingredients used in this cheap restaurant. The lettuce was green, cucumbers were fresh and crisp, and feta was deliciously salty. Only the slightly mealy tomatoes were a disappointment -- but then again 95 % of tomatoes are. Compared to the last Greek salad I ate at Niko Niko's, the ingredients here were far superior.

It probably is not worth driving across town to try the Greek food in this popular, run-down Taco Bell building. But if you are near Bellaire, it is a good spot for some decent, cheap Greek food that exceeds expectations.

Easter, Pot Luck

2009-04-14T21:14:00.009-05:00

If I have learned one thing from After Hours with Daniel Boulud, it's this: a great meal is one part great food and one part great company.

If you don't have Mojo TV, it is worth seeking out videos of After Hours. Boulud assembles a group of famous guests -- intellectuals, artists, actors -- for a meal in a famous restaurant. The show splits its time equally between the food and the guests' conversation.

Pot luck invitation

My After Hours moment was at lunch this Easter. My friend Linda invited me to a small pot luck lunch. Linda was hosting some special guests. Chicago jazzman Ken Vandermark was in town with the Dutch Ab Baars Trio.

I'm a huge fan of Vandermark. I have at least 25 of his CDs, including the prize of my CD collection -- a rare 12-disk live set in Poland. Saturday night was the first time Vandermark had ever played Houston.

I also heard a rumor that the local musician known as Jandek might show. Jandek is quite famous in underground circles. He has released over 40 albums since 1978. But until recently, his identity was so secret that no one had any idea who he was. There was even a movie speculating about who he might be.

I knew I had to go. And I knew I had to bring something appropriate for pot luck.

Something about pot luck

My memories of pot luck lunches come from lawns outside of Baptist churches in East Texas. Everyone brings a casserole. Almost all the food is overcooked, yet designed to please a crowd.

Pot luck is synonymous with surprise. You never know what kind of food is going to be served. Or how the combination will work together.
For these musicians from far away, I wanted to make something uniquely local. Linda asked me to bring something like potatoes. So I made two dishes.

The first was a recipe from the 1968 Junior League of Houston Cookbook. It was a casserole of thinly sliced potatoes, condensed milk, shredded cheddar and pickled pimientos and jalapenos. It was a cheesy dish in every sense of the word. It was quintessentially pot luck, and quintessentially Houston.

The second was a more modern dish - sauteed, shredded sweet potatoes tossed with tequila and lime. Unconsciously, I arranged the tequila-soaked limes in something of an Easter pattern.

Linda made a fantastic pot roast, greens, some fish dishes, and some very artistic cupcakes:

Pot luck isn't just food

I enjoyed talking with Ken, Ab, Jandek and all the other musicians.

But the best part of lunch was something interesting and spontaneous that happened as we finished eating. Sonia, a local musician, pulled out her double bass and started playing and singing. Ab joined on a Japanese flute.

Their impromptu improvisation was a surprise. It was an interaction of different creators coming together to make something -- something much greater as a whole than its individual parts.

Something that will never again be repeated in quite the same way -- just like a pot luck diner.

Houston's Top 10 Cheap Restaurants

2009-04-10T09:44:00.003-05:00

These are the cheap restaurants that I enjoyed most over the last year.

By "cheap" I mean an average food price of under $20 per person. You can eat well at most of these places for under $10.

The list is considerably different from 2008's list. I spent more time exploring Asian restaurants, and it shows.

Top 10

1. Asia Market. I ate at Asia Market more than anywhere else on the list, and I am still working my way through the fascinating menu. Although this "restaurant" is no more than 5 tables in a Thai convenience store, it serves some of the most flavorful and unusual Thai and Laotian dishes in town.

2. Pico's. Although the Tex-Mex and grilled items are fine, the real standouts are the authentic Mexican dishes like mole (3 kinds!) and the sublime chiles en nogada. Don't forget to check the specials board before you walk in the front door. When available, osso buco and soft shell crabs are outstanding, but not so cheap.

3. La Jaliscience. Mexican food is different when you eat in places with few gringo customers. La Jaliscience plays Mexican TV and waitresses speak to me (so obviously a gringo) in Spanish. But the food stands out most. La Jaliscience serves a generous Mexican breakfast, fantastic soups, tacos with wierd meats, and the hottest green salsa I've had.

4. Mint Cafe. Mint Cafe reveals its charms slowly, over many visits. Standard Middle dishes - from gyros to baba ghanouge are high quality. The best dishes include the kids' kafta burger and two quintessential Egyptian dishes - foul (fava beans with lemon and olive oil) and molokhia (a soup with chicken and Egyptian greens served only on Friday).

5. Himalaya. Spicy Northern Indian and Pakistani food. Get recommendations from Chef Kaiser, one of our most colorful food personalities.

6. Mary'z. The best Lebanese food in Houston. Mary'z chich tawook may be my favorite marinated chicken dish.

7. Vieng Thai serves some of the strangest, and spicest food in Houston.

8. Sandong Noodle House. The noodles are good, but Sandong is most famous for pan fried dumplings.

9. Tan Tan. Bright neon, garish moving photos of water falls, fake palm trees with stuffed monkeys, and an encyclopedic menu of Chinese and Vietnamese food. Nothing else is quite like Tan Tan.

10. Mandola's Deli. You probably didn't expect to see a Mandola's restaurant on this list, but this one is different. Frank Mandola's grungy dive south of downtown only serves lunch, and it is a cheap, fabulous lunch - Italian and New Orleans style po-boys, a killer eggplant parmesan, and Italian immigrant pasta dishes.

Runners Up

11. Burns Barbecue. Despite appearances, Houston really isn't a barbecue town. Because of air quality regulations, barbecue in the city just isn't as good as in small Texas towns. Currently, my favorite is Burns in Acres Homes.

12. Thien An serves good bahn mi sandwiches and a killer bun bo hue. Thien An is a reminder that you can still get great, cheap Vietnamese food in Midtown.

13. Turquoise Grill. The setting in a former office snack bar on Kirby is hardly enticing, but Jim Dokuyuku and his family draw you in for a family meal. Several authentic Turkish dishes are only allowed to be cooked by Jim's mom. The grilled meats have a remarkable flavor, and the gyro meat is the best I've had in Houston. Empire Grill has better bread. Pasha is in a more attractive setting. But Turquoise is my all-around favorite Turkish restaurant.

14. Huynh. Reasonably-priced Vietnamese food is served in an attractive modern setting. Most Houston Vietnamese restaurants seem to work off the same standardized cookbook. But some of Huynh's dishes, like cha giao and pork spring rolls, are decidedly different -- and better.

15. Sichuan Cuisine. The strangest Chinese food I've had in Houston. Don't expect a standard American Chinese menu. Do expect pig snout, duck tongue, and mouth-numbing peppercorns.

16. New Filipiniana. Filipino food is less Asian and more creole than I expected. This place gets a huge Filipino crowd, and has a huge lunch buffet that lets you dive in to a unique blend of flavors.

Other runners up: Que Huong, Pho Danh II, Avenue Grill, Barbecue Inn, Teotihuacan, Ko-Mart food stalls, Alfreda's Cafeteria, Pepper Tree Veggie Cuisine, Udipi Cafe, La Sani, Triple A Restaurant, Cafe Mezza, Xiong Cafe, KL Malaysian, Mandarin Cafe, Cafe Byblos.

Feast in the New York Times

2009-04-08T09:18:00.003-05:00

It's rare for Houston restuarants to get national attention. But for the past year, the national press has been in love with Reef.

And today, the New York Times has published a long article on Feast.

Theme of the article:

"What they’ve fashioned in a foreign land of big steaks and bold Tex-Mex is a restaurant that’s not just offbeat and challenging but also serious and enormously enjoyable. It’s one of the country’s outstanding newcomers."

Amen.

A day of food on Twitter

2009-04-04T18:37:00.017-05:00

Twitter blues

I had been on Twitter 2 weeks and it wasn't making sense.

I'mneverfull signed me up -- before she told me she was going to do it. Then she came to my office to train me. She also gave me a list of foodies to follow on Twitter.

I tried hard to understand Twitter, but didn't. Messages are barely in English. They fly onto the screen without context. Plus Twitter doesn't give you enough space in a message to develop an idea with any depth.

I kept wondering, "Who are these people talking to?" "What are they saying?" "What are these abbreviations?"

Twitter was no fun.

Finally, a good day of Twittering

By noon today, I finished my work and thought I might Twitter just one more time - to see if anything useful might come of it.

11:50 cleverleysWolfgang Puck on Cleverley at Noon. CNN650 Radio News. Houston. Stream: http://www.CNN650.com

I like Cleverly. I like Puck. So I listened online. I learned about Puck's Dallas restaurant and why foie gras is cruel.

12:00 FoodPrincess Stopped @RainDrop Chocolate, watching them make truffles.

12:02 FoodPrincessRainDrop Chocolate closing on April 26.

1:15 tastybitz Best gelateria in Houston is closing. Frack.

I hadn't heard of Rain Drop Chocolate, but was sad to hear they are closing. So after Cleverly finished with Puck, I decided to drop by.

The chocolate truffles are remarkable. I tried the chipoltle chocolate flavor and saved the other two -- a malt and a dark chocolate -- for the family.

1:15 pinksnapper TWO UGLY BUT TASTY TWINS: whole monkfish & skate(ray) FYI mudbugs are como que rico y gordos! come see me at Airline Sfd.

Skate -- I love its crab-like flavor and sharklike texture. I had wanted to cook it. So I headed over to Airline Road, forgetting that Airline Seafood, despite its name, is on Richmond. More driving.

As it turns out, "pinksnapper" is Mark Musatto, the proprietor at Airline Seafood. Mark took me to the back to show me the ray and the big ugly monkfish -- a prehistoric fish that even has little feet. I didn't know that.

I bought some skate wings. And as I looked over Mark's list of fresh fish, I wondered why I had been buying seafood anywhere else.

2:15 WholeFoodsHOU Robb Walsh is now at our Kirby store. Come meet the man behind Houston Press food blog!!!

2:30 imneverfull http://twitpic.com/2ts9f - @robbwalsh is shucking oysters

4:00 imneverfull @robbwalsh's silly beard is left over from a jesus christ costume

I rushed over to Whole Foods, fought tooth and nail for a parking space, and ran in to see Robb.

There he was, standing behind some raw oysters, in his Jesus beard, thick glasses, and hat. Robb looked much sillier than Jesus.

Whenever I meet people I have idolized for years, I can't think of anything smart to say. I told him that I had a blog and that I'm a huge fan. He said he reads my blog.

Unlike me, Robb wasn't at a loss for words:

Then Robb Walsh, my favorite food writer in the U.S., shucked an oyster for me!

3:15 she_eats I'm in Baytown. And frightened. It's very dirty here.

3:20 she_eats This must be what the end of the world looks like.

I wasn't going to Baytown to confirm this. But I remembered how much I miss she_eats' hour-by-hour chronicles of her weekends on her blog. Perhaps I should try an hour-by-hour blog post, in her honor. Maybe tonight.

So I finally, I put down my twiterberry and cooked broiled skate wings with a red wine reduction on mashed potatoes.

In just 4 hours, I had tried some of the best chocolate in Houston, met Robb Walsh, examined a monkfish up close, watched a guy filet a skate in the backroom of a fish market, and chatted with friends in a strange new language.

None of this would have happened without Twitter.

Houston's Top 10 Restaurants 2009

2009-04-03T07:53:00.008-05:00

A new top 10

At this moment, right now, Houston has the best set of upscale restaurants in recent memory, perhaps in our history.

A lot has changed since my 2008 top-10 list. So before the depression hits our market, it is time for my annual, utterly subjective list of top 10 favorite upscale Houston restaurants. A separate list of cheap restaurants will come soon.

Listed in order of preference, these are the 10 restaurants whose food (and wine) I enjoyed most over the past year.

1. Feast. This has been the year of Feast. Apart from Randy Rucker's laidback manor and Monica Pope's Quilted Toque, no Houston restaurants have changed my thinking about food and cooking so much. It is not just the unusual cuts of meat (veal tongue, cow testicles, pig's feet), or the unusual seafood (mother-in-law, sting rays). It is also the unusual combination of ingredients and flavors, mostly cooked in an oven. In the past year, I have visited Feast far more than any other restuarant. And I check out its ever-changing menu almost daily. A few dishes have been clunkers. But the successful dishes have blown me away.

2. Reef. In its first year, Reef's food was cutting edge. But the execution was uneven from the front desk to the floor to the kitchen - perhaps because of its unexpectedly huge crowds. This year, Reef hit its stride. The raw seafood dishes are more creative and flavorful than any sushi bar in town. And the cooked seafood is our city's finest. Plus, the wine list is laudably priced near retail. Bon Appetit called Reef the best seafood restaurant in America. I don't disagree.

3. Textile. Textile may be Houston's best all-around dining experience from the creative bar drinks to the multi-course tasting menus by Scott Tycer to the creative desserts by Plinio Sandalio. Unfortunately, it is so pricey and so difficult to get into Textile, that I have only been once. Still, it is my restaurant-of-choice for a splurge.

4. Rainbow Lodge. Rainbow Lodge is a fascinating work in progress. What happens when you combine an old-school game-and-seafood restaurant with Houston's most creative young chef? So far, the results have been outstanding - unusual preparations of gulf seafood, avant-garde charcuterie, and local produce. Even the long-standing game dishes benefit from Randy Rucker's improvements on the sauces. With a new garden under construction, I expect that Rucker and the Lodge may soon become Houston's representative local cuisine restaurant.

5. Indika. Indika's food is more creative and higher quality than any other Indian restaurant in America that I have tried. The kitchen focuses on local ingredients and exotic spices. Its creations are unlike any other restaurant in Houston.

6. Catalan. Catalan has my favorite wine list. Most wines are priced near retail, and the list is remarkable for its scope and creativity. And the kitchen, while sometimes uneven, is restlessly creative. Don't miss the funnest part of the menu, labeled "Chef's Playground."

7. Da Marco. For a long time Da Marco has topped various lists of Houston's restaurants - including mine in 2006. It serves some of the best food in Houston, and some of the best Italian food in the U.S. But I sometimes have a hard time enjoying the overly expensive wines (with high mark-up) and the stuffy atmosphere. Yet I forget all that when I try Da Marco's crudo dishes, among the best raw seafood in Houston.

8. Hugo's. An American city with such a high population of Mexican immigrants should have a world-class Mexican restaurant. And we do. Hugo's delights with authentic Mexican dishes, exotic flourishes (grasshoppers, huitlacoche, and squash blossoms), and Sean Beck's list of wines which go remarkably well with spicy foods. It is appropriate that Hugo's is owned and operated by one of our many immigrants, Chef Hugo Ortega.

9. Bedford. Bedford is a new, frustratingly gangly restaurant that seems to be several restaurants in one. The best restaurant is the chef's table when Chef Gadsby prepares a multi-course tasting menu. Many dishes on the a la carte menu are good too, like the mysterious clay pot soup and the hearty short ribs with pork belly stew. The wine list is sure to improve, but in the restaurant's first few months it is too heavily wieghted with overly-oaked, high-production California wines.

10. Voice. Many dishes at Voice are hits -- especially mushroom soup cappucino, baby beets, and halibut with truffle emulsion. Even if it touts local produce, the menu is perhaps our best representation of nationwide restaurant trends -- the sort of stuff they teach in chef school. And preparations are consistently flawless. Earlier in the year, Voice would have been higher on this list. But the menu does not seem to change frequently enough to sustain a high interest over repeated visits.

Runners up

11. Mockingbird Bistro. Mockingbird's kitchen continues to surprise me. Most dishes don't sound creative on the menu, but their execution is as inventive as it is flavorful. Mockingbird belongs in the top 10. But what restaurant could be removed to make a place?

12. Le Mistral. This is the first time Le Mistral did not make my top 10. My last meal there was a little less interesting than previous visits. But over the past five years, it has remained the best French food in Houston.

13. Ristaurante Cavour. Cavour is the best restaurant in Houston that no one goes to. The menu designed by Chef Denis of Le Mistral proves that he can do Italian just as well as French.

14. Ibiza. Ibiza has some of the best starters in Houston, and a wine list second in value and scope only to its sister restaurant Catalan. I prefer Catalan's creativity. But I never tire of some regular menu items at Ibiza such as Basque green pepper soup, morcilla sausage with goat cheese, and stuffed piquillo peppers.

15. Shade. Shade's three soup offerings change daily, and they often among my favorites in town. Although I eat at Shade at least once a month, the menu changes enough, and is innovative enough, to sustain my interest.

16. Max's Wine Dive. It is maddening that they serve such outstanding food in such a cramped, overcrowded bar. I rarely go to Max's for this reason. But when I do go, I am amazed at the quality of the bistro-like dishes.

Other Runners Up: Beaver's, Bistro Max & Julie, Backstreet Cafe, Benjy's, Dolce Vita Pizzeria Enoteca, Kubo's, Teppay, Gravitas, Cafe Annie, Mark's, T'afia, Tony's, Pesce, Arcodoro, Masraff's, Fung's Kitchen.

Places I haven't tried. These upscale restaurants might possibly make my list if I ever get around to trying them: Chez Roux, Au Petit Paris, Olivette, Vic & Anthony's, Polo's Signature, Danton's. I have started to go to every one of these restaurants, but then checked the daily menu at Feast.

Please comment -- I would love to hear your 10 favorites.

This is not Feed the Heights

2009-04-02T09:21:00.006-05:00

Today's Preview section of the Chronicle directs readers to a new blog called Feed the Heights. But the Chron mistakenly listed the URL for this site.

This is not Feed the Heights. You can find it here.

It is an interesting new site. (It even has a manifesto!)

But since you are here, you also might like some of our posts about Heights-area restaurants:

Textile
Rainbow Lodge
Sweet Temptation
Bedford (by Epicurus) and Bedford (by anonymouseater)
Antidote Coffee
Vietnam Restaurant
Asia Market
Pink's Pizza
Chiloso's Taco House
Dragon Bowl
Shade
Triple A Restaurant and El Bolillo
Teotihuacan
Glass Wall (and Shade)

I don't even live near the Heights, but I am fascinated with its food scene. It was awful 5 years ago. But suddenly, it has some of the best restaurants in Houston.

So it is about time for a food blog that focuses just on the Heights. Good luck Feed the Heights.

Jellyfish

2009-03-28T12:11:00.008-05:00

I was wrong about jellyfish.

A distant vague memory: As a food, I thought jellyfish was exotic.

In 1994, I went to a Chinese buffet in the Rice Village. Good Chinese buffets are rare, but this one had high quality and some not-so-Americanized dishes. (I believe the name may have been China Station, and I know the restaurant is long departed).

A jellyfish appetizer had many flavors -- pungency, sweetness, nuttiness. Yet I wasn't completely sure which part of the dish was the jellyfish.

Last week: In Hong Kong Market, a stand displayed three brands of salted jellyfish. One cost around $1.50. Another, $2.50. The third, $3.50.

In an Asian grocery, when I don't know the product, and the packaging is not English, I follow a simple rule: Buy the most expensive one. I did.

Salted jellyfish requires a little preparation and a lot of waiting. First, you boil the thin strips in water with a little vinegar until they just begin to shrink. Then, you let them rest in cold water - to get out the salt. I waited a full day.

The reality. As I pulled the prepared jellyfish from the refrigerator, I discovered that jellyfish, as food, are not strange. After the salt has leached out, they have little flavor. Instead they become pasta-like conduits of other flavors.

As I contemplated what to do with these bland, slimy strands, I remembered Vietnamese salads with glass noodles. Like glass noodles, jellyfish have a slightly slimy, slightly chewy/crunchy texture.

So the dish began to appear in my head: a Vietnamese salad with jellyfish instead of glass noodles:

The base consists of shredded carrots, shredded cucumber, and jellyfish mixed with a combination of fish sauce, lime juice, sugar, crushed peanuts, chili pepper, and sesame seeds. To make it a meal, I topped it with strips of egg omelet, grilled chicken, and mint.

(In the photo, the bits of jellyfish are the translucent strips mixed in with carrots.)

A new understanding of jellyfish. As food, jellyfish is immensely utilitarian. It acts as a texture base and a platform for other flavors. But unlike pasta, it is high in protein, low in calories, low in carbs, low in fat.

It is only as exotic -- and only as good -- as the ingredients, flavors, and imagination that you add.

Vietnamese near downtown (Huynh, Thien An)

2009-03-24T16:46:00.009-05:00

Downtown Vietnamese - not dead yet

For several years, I thought we were losing our Vietnamese community near downtown. Midtown began to lose most of its Vietnamese malls, shops, and restaurants. Non-Vietnamese developments moved in. It looked like an exodus to Bellaire.

I may have been wrong.

Huynh Restaurant (912 St. Emanuel) and Thien An (2905 Travis) and have opened attractive new locations in the old Chinatown (Huynh) and Midtown (Thien An).

Their dishes are among the best in Houston.

Huynh

My friends Larry and Halcyon brought me to Huynh for lunch. They know the proprietor. So they get special treatment. But then, every customer seems to get special treatment at Huynh.

Larry ordered some soft pork (?) rolls. I didn't focus on the meat because I was so enthralled with the wrappers. These are thick rice wrappers that remind me of some dim sum pasta much more than the ordinary rice paper. They are made in the kitchen. Their texture is thick, toothsome, and delightfully slimy. Their flavor is fresh and ricey.

Cha giao is often just an ordinary egg roll. But at Huynh, the exterior has a completely different, crunchy texture. Somehow these seem healthier than ordinary egg rolls, but I'm probalby just kidding myself.

Huynh's bún bò Huế is outstanding. Yes it has clotted pig's blood. (The proprietor delicately called it "blood tofu.") Yes it has pig's feet. The family who runs Huynh are recent immigrants from Hue, which makese sense when you try this authentic dish.

I love Huynh's minimal modern decor. This is an inexpensive Vietnamese place that looks and feels much more upscale than it costs.

Thien An

Thien An began as a divey sandwich shop, well known for its banh mi sandwiches. It recently moved to a bigger space Midtown. And the menu has much more than sandwiches.

I used the promise of Banh Mi to coax my friend Patrick to join me. He ordered a pork banh mi. It looked looked like a steal at $2.50.

I asked him to describe it. "It's good," he said. "Care to add anything else?" I asked. "Nope."

As you might guess, Patrick is no foodie. But he likes Banh Mi.

A few months ago, Justin commented on this site that Thien An's bún bò Huế is the best in Houston. I might have to agree. The broth might not be quite as complex as at Pho Danh in the Hong Kong Mall. But the meat in this soup has a distinct, spicy flavor that raises it above ordinary meat hanging out in broth. The soup that benefitted from a wide array of condiments.

For days, I have had a spring in my step. Now I know that great Vietnamese food is back inside the Loop -- or maybe it never left.

Bedford Restaurant

2009-03-23T11:01:00.004-05:00

This isn't going to be a full-on review of Bedford, Robert Gadsby's new digs, both because I lack the time for a full review, and more so because a few weeks have passed since I dined there, and I do not think it is entirely fair to the establishment to pen a review after such a passage of time.

Really, then, this post is much less a review and much more an airing of the grievances, Festivus style.

First, I am happy to admit that I am generally a total Gadsby Groupie. At its peak, Mrs. E and I were firmly convinced that Noe was the best restaurant in Houston. We loved the setting and decor -- ambient blue is lovely, and appears at Bedford, too -- the service, which was first rate, and, above all, the cuisine. Mrs. E and I know a thing or two about Japanese cuisine, and we were enthralled with the way Chef G worked these techniques, fused with a European style, that produced food that was both elegant, complex, and yet avoided the hoity-toityness regrettably common to fine dining (and food critics, I might add. No one I know, of course. *Whistling*).

We also particularly loved that Chef G tends to eschew heavy usage of butter and cream. See, here's the thing, and this may be the worst kind of gastronomical blasphemy: I'm not all that impressed when a chef loads up butter, cream, and cheese in a given dish. If a chef is unable to load up a dish with butter, cream, and cheese, and make it taste pretty damn good, then they really stink. Note: I have no problem with butter, cream, and cheese. Quite the contrary; I dearly love all three. My point is simply that liberal usage typically underwhelms me. See also: bacon.

In contrast, a chef who understands the loveliness of these items, but uses them sparingly and still manages to turn out incredible food tends to garner my undying admiration. I, aspiring home cook that I am, can manage to make things taste wonderful with butter, heavy cream, cheese, and bacon. I guess the analogy here is to Alison Cook's general suspicion of truffles (and truffle oil). I adore truffles, but I think she is right to point out that adding truffles to a dish is basically Instant Fancy. Make it taste good first, then add just a hint of truffles . . .

Noe gradually decreased in quality as Chef G seemed less present, and, while I think it remains pretty good, it is not what it once was, IMO. So, I was thrilled when Bedford Restaurant opened -- finally, Chef G's own restaurant, with everything directly from his brain and hands. I was doubly comforted when I walked in to dine a few weeks ago, and saw the man himself in the front, talking to some Serious People (investors?). The smile at seeing him present quickly left my face as I realized that he was not actually in the kitchen at that time. Ah well, if you want the Man to cook for you, better reserve a private table . . .

The short of it is, I was underwhelmed. The amuse bouche and appetizer -- butternut squash cappucino -- were quite good. But the main course was disappointing indeed. Perhaps I should have gone with my instincts and chosen seafood, but I was hankering for some pasta, and order the rigatoni with house-made sausage and aged goat cheese. The dish was fine, as far as it goes, but seemed strangely un-Gadsby-esque. From experience, I tend to expect true Gadsby-style dishes to be reasonable-size portions (this harkens back to Gadsby's Japanese training, I am guessing, because portions in Japan are substantially smaller than in Houston), with a gorgeous, artistic, yet almost minimalist presentation. The dish was none of this. It was a giant bowl of pasta, with everything kind of tossed in. Little care seemed to have been taken with the presentation, and it was a huge bowl of pasta. I was not particularly excited to eat it.

It tasted fine; the sausage was well-spiced, and it is, in my mind, impossible to go wrong with goat cheese. But I was not wowed, with either the presentation, the portion, or the conception of the dish itself. From Chef G's incredible culinary mind comes . . . a bowl of pasta with sausage and goat cheese? And it tasted extremely heavy, which I suppose might be expected from the dish I ordered, but seems to lack some key elements of Chef G's cuisine.

Anyway, I'll chalk this experience up to my ordering the wrong dish, and to Bedford perhaps still working out the kinks. I'll be back, of course, perhaps after I scrape together the needed funds to sit at a private table . . .

Thoughts?

They still open restaurants? (Benjy's and Cafe Byblos)

2009-03-18T16:32:00.007-05:00

Restaurants are still opening?

Terrible economic times. Worst recession in our lifetime. Dozens of Houston restaurants have closed -- even Hue.

Yet somehow, someone keeps opening new restaurants.

A new Benjy's

Benjy's just opened a second location on the far west end of Washington. Last night -- a Tuesday -- every table was full, and the restaurant buzzed with energy.

The question that every fan of Benjy's will ask is: Is it different? The answer: a little.

The dining room seems bigger -- and much more brown. Wood dominates. The feel is a little 1970s, a little contemporary, and warm. For diners on Washington, you might expect an average age of about 25. Strangely, though, the crowd seemed about decade older than the Rice Village location, which has remained forever young.

The menu looks similar to the Village's menu. Only a handful of the listed dishes are different. But the teams of chefs are different. And the preparations also differ slightly.

Take, the tuna pizzette. It had most of the same ingredients as in the Village, but less wasabi cream sauce and a much thinner, more cracker-like crust. I usually prefer thin crusts, but this one was less like a pizza, more like a matzo cracker. Yet it had some nice flavor additions, including dried peppers and wasabi tobiko (flying fish roe).

One dish served only on Washington is crispy tofu steak with curried tomatoes. I enjoyed the tofu's texture - crispy outside and soft middle. And I especially liked the bright and spicy Indian-flavored tomato sauce.

Although Benjy's always has dabbled in international cuisines, this was the first dish I remember with an Indian twist. I hope they continue to experiment like this.

And I hope they continue to get the crowd.

Cafe Byblos

Although Cafe Byblos only opened in the past several months, the Press's Paul Galvani already called it "Houston's finest Lebanese restaurant." So what does he mean by "finest"?

Perhaps Byblos has the finest decor. The restaurant, on Richmond near Fountainview, feels like it could be in Vegas - a large dining area with a giant television projection screen, surrounded with oversized booths.

Or perhaps Byblos has the finest atmosphere. Byblos seems to want to sell itself as a party place. It often has belly dancing and flamenco. But last Sunday evening, only four tables were full. And the only entertainment was loud, sexually-suggestive Syrian music videos - something I didn't know existed. I enjoyed the videos, but they did not fit a quiet restaurant on a Sunday night.

Does Byblos have the finest food?

The babaghanuj had too much tahini and not enough smoky eggplant flavor. It tasted more like nut butter than an eggplant dip. I much prefer the babaghanuj at nearby Mint Cafe - and at least 4 0r 5 other Houston restaurants.

Byblos's Lahm Bi Ajeen (Lebanese pizza) was a nice surprise -- a mix of minced lamb and tomatoes on a thin crust. It is an interesting taste, not on many other Houston menus.

Galvani had recommended the mixed grill, which includes (1) a kafta kebob with mixed lamb, (2) a beef kabob, and (3) shish taouk - marinated chicken breast. I have had better shish taouk in Houston - especially at Mary'z. This chicken did not have much marinade flavor, and was not accompanied with garlic sauce. But the lamb had exotic spices and a nice charcoal flavor. And the beef kabob was the best of the bunch -- cooked medium rare and full of juice.

So, is this the finest Lebanese restaurant in Houston? I am not ready to say that about the food -- at least not yet. Byblos is off to a good start, but it has some tough neighborhood competition.

Looking for bulgogi in all the wrong places

2009-03-18T09:51:00.005-05:00

Looking for better bulgogi

A disclaimer: I know very little about Korean food.

But I do know that I fell in love when I first tried bulgogi at one of the Ko-Mart food stalls. The thin slices of beef hinted at BIG flavors -- the umami of soy, the sweetness of sugar, the heat of peppers, and the bite of raw garlic and green onion. I loved those flavors. I wanted more.

Yet every bulgogi dish I have tried since then seems to have less. Most bulgogi dishes have little or no heat and much less of the other flavoring ingredients.

When it comes to bulgogi, I am the Ugly American. I want more flavor. If authentic Korean bulgogi is about subtlety, I don't get it.

Korea Garden lunch

As an illustration, some friends and I recently tried the lunch specials at Korea Garden on Long Point. We ordered bulgogi, spicy pork bulgogi, and bulgalbi (a similar dish made with short ribs instead of sirloin).

Bulgalbi:
Bulgogi:

The sides were fantastic. Tempura vegetables had a delicate, crispy bite. The kimchi was appropriately old, spicy, and funky. And I particularly liked a side of some unusual, sweet vegetables. I had the sense that Korea Garden would be even better at night, when you can cook at your table, and they bring more sides.

But of the three meat dishes, the only one with the BIG flavors was the spicy pork bulgogi. Its flavor was mostly spice, not the wonderfully strange sweetness I like in a bulgogi marinade. The other two dishes had no heat and only a little sweetness. I did not find that bulgogi flavor explosion that I have been seeking.

The bulgogi burger at home

On Monday, my wife brought home some buffalo burger paties. Surely she knew that I am not a fan of ordinary burgers. Surely she knew that I would turn them into something goofy.

As I opened the refrigerator, trying to decide what to do with the burger, I saw a jar of kimchi. The mission became clear.

First, I chopped up the spicy kimchi, and then added even more chili paste. I incorporated the spicy goodness into the meat. Then, as the meat grilled, I threw together a "bulgogi" sauce of soy, mirin, sugar, crushed garlic, and green onions.

As I first bit into the the kimchi burger covered in bulgogi sauce, I knew I had found it -- that explosion of Korean flavors that I had been missing,

Sure, my "bulgogi" burger is no more authentic Korean food than a pizza burger is authentic Italian food.

But sometimes authenticity doesn't matter when you need a lot of flavor.

Fratelli's - regional Italian food

2009-03-17T09:17:00.011-05:00

What's missing in Houston Italian food?

A few weeks ago I listed some cuisines that are missing in Houston. Some of you added your complaints about our Italian-food scene. You said we don't have enough:

1 - authentic regional Italian restaurants; and

2 - good inexpensive Italian food.

Then Nord responded that we should try Fratelli's - a restaurant I had never heard of. So last Friday night, I loaded up the family and drove outside the Loop to see what I had been missing.

An inauspicious start

If atmosphere matters, you may not like Fratelli's.

It is in a depressing strip center on 290 near 34th. Outside are planters with herbs -- a good sign. But inside, the decor is equally depressing. The walls are scattered with tacky prints, some that are not hung straight.

On a Friday night, at peak hour, the restaurant was about 1/4 full. About half of the crowd was elderly. My wife gave me a blow-by-blow account as two old guys across from her wiped up butter from a bowl with their fingers, then greedily licked them.

Fortunately, the service was very friendly. A nice older lady greeted us at the door. Our young waiter seemed genuinely enthusiastic about the food.

The wine list was short, but had some good Italian wines. They did not have the wine we ordered, so the owner upsold us a "better" bottle -- $15 more expensive.

Perhaps Fratelli's needed to make up for the cheap food prices. Most pizzas and pasta dishes are around $10. Entrees with chicken and veal run around $14.

Good food overcomes all complaints

Most of Fratelli's menu focuses on the food of Emilia-Romagna. Many foodies think this region, just north east of Tuscany, is the best region for Italian food. It is known for handmade pasta, parmigiano, prosciutto, balsamic vinegar, and Bolognese sauce.

My daughter started out with a dish that is not a specialty of Emilia-Romagna -- pizza.

This Neptune pizza was loaded with anchovies and squid, plus a few shrimp and generous amounts of basil. The best part of the pizza was the crust -- a cracker-thin crust like most pizzas served in Italy.

Behind Dolce Vita, this might be the best, most authentic pizza in Houston.

We also started with spinach gnocchi with gorgonzola sauce.

The potato/spinach dumplings were large, handmade, irregular balls -- completely different from the elegant light pillows at Ristorante Cavour. These gnocchi taste more like you would expect from someone's home kitchen, rather than a professional chef. Yet that is not a complaint.

The sauce was thick, cheesy, and pungent, much like I remember an gorgonzola gnocchi dish in Rome.

Again, this may not be the best gnocchi in Houston. But it is authentic and awfully good -- especially for $6.95.

A final surprise was Saltimbocca alla Romana.

Thin strips of veal were sauteed and rolled with prosciutto and sage, resting on a very light bed of butter sauce. The dominant flavor was the fresh sage. Most Houston Italian restaurants are too shy to use this much fresh herb.

Even the sauteed green beans on the side were full of flavor -- something I have not come to expect from most Houston Italian restaurants.

A few other dishes were merely good -- a Cesari salad (not an Italian dish, despite its name) and a chocolate torte that tasted more of fruit than chocolate. We learned that it is better to stick to Fratelli's regional specialties.

Fratelli's deserves more attention. Its food may not be in the same league as Da Marco's, Dolce Vita, Ristorante Cavour, or Arcodoro. But it's better than at least 200 other Italian restaurants in Houston. And it may be Houston's best Italian food value.

Ragin' Cajun

2009-03-13T15:42:00.008-05:00

The original Ragin' Cajun on Richmond inside the Loop is over 30-years old. Although the Mandolas have turned it into a small chain, the original doesn't feel like a chain.

I first discovered RC as a Rice student. It was where I had some of my earliest tastes of boiled crawfish, cajun red beans, and oyster po boys.

When my Rice-friend Lizzette suggested RC for lunch last week, I had not visited it in ages. We found that in the past 20 years, the prices have gone up -- and there are a few new rooms. But the restaurant feels the same.

The walls are covered with faded college sports posters and Louisiana paraphernalia. And on a Friday, during Lent, it was full of customers.

Red Beans

RC's red beans is a classic Louisiana dish. It looks like a beautiful work of art, or rather folk art:

RC's red beans make an interesting comparison with Treebeard's, where I had eaten a few days earlier. RC covers the beans with white onion. Treebeards uses green onions.

But the bigger difference is flavor. Treebeard's beans taste a little more complex. RC's beans have a pastier texture and taste one- dimensional.

In cooking beans, I have found that complexity comes from using ingredients like onions, celery, green pepper, and bay leaves. I suspect that both restaurants use all those ingredients But Trebeard's may just use more -- or cook them longer. I also think Treebeard's beans may have more fat, which smooths the texture and spreads the flavor.

Still, complexity doesn't matter much when you eat red beans like I do -- covered in tabasco sauce. After a liberal dose, I didn't notice a difference.

Boiled shrimp

Lizzette ordered the better dish -- shrimp with cajun seasoning and a remoulade. Fortunately, she was not hungry enough to eat them all:

The spice mix tastes like the same spices that go into RC's boiled crawfish. It is fairly hot.

But these shrimp stood out more because of their quality. I had two bad batches of shrimp earlier in the week -- a shrimp dish at Dharma Cafe and some shrimp I cooked at home from Central Market. Both had an overwhelming flavor of iodine and little fresh-shrimp flavor. But RC's shrimp had that distinct flavor of shrimp straight from the ocean. And the flavor stood up to the heady spices.

Given the nearness of Louisiana, I am surprised Houston doesn't have more Louisiana restaurants. But we do have the Ragin' Cajun. And for casual cajun food, it's pretty good.

Houston's professional food critics

2009-03-12T15:55:00.009-05:00

Alison Cook on Rainbow Lodge

Alison Cook published a magnificent review yesterday of Rainbow Lodge.

I don't say her review is magnificent because she loved the restaurant. (She did). Nor because her opinions are similar to my previous comments about the restaurant and its new chef. (They are.)

It is magnificent because it is so elegantly written, thoughtful, and insightful. For instance:

-"I felt my eyes welling with tears. . .I've never watched someone turn into a great chef right in front of me."

-"Thin-cut apple divides the ribbon of fish from a swoosh of cilantro pistou that is low-key enough not to dominate."

-"Rucker's more in love with his ingredients now than he is with his own mad skills."

And best of all:

-"Hansen and Rucker are running one of the best - and most interesting - restaurants in this corner of the world. Sometimes revenge is best served with a side of dashi gelee."

Many of Alison's published reviews are so polished, clever, and professional that they put the New York Times' critics to shame.

Houston's professional food critics

I remember a few years in the 90s -- after Alison left us for a while - when Houston had no full-time food critic. We are so fortunate now to have two of the best in the country.

Robb Walsh's writing is completely different and far more informal. And I disagree with his restaurant reviews more often than Alison. But he is my favorite American food writer. He articulates relationship between culture and food perhaps better than any critic writing in America today.

The coming end of professional food criticism?

It's no secret. The web is slowly killing off newspapers. And it is causing the layoffs of professional critics nationwide.

As Leisl Schillinger explained in a NYT blog today, "the old paradigm of publishing -- in which editors cautiously selected content, anxiously assessed its potential appeal and profitability, then painstakingly edited and proofed before printing their costly pages - has been overtaken by . . . 'mass amateurization,' or, in lay speak: blogging."

Houston's recent food blog explosion is part of that mass amateurization. I'm one of the amateurs. And I think there may be some real value to pithy stories, full of misspellings, about my efforts to cook a pig's head or find corn smut.

But if we ultimately do lose our professional critics -- people who write as carefully and thoughtfully as Cook and Walsh -- it will be a great loss for Houston.

The tale of the pig's head

2009-03-11T12:03:00.013-05:00

This is the story of how I:

•went to a Vietnamese engagement,
•brought home a whole pig's head, and
•tried to figure out how to use it.

The engagement

One of my best friends is marrying a lovely woman who is a Vietnamese immigrant. In Vietnam, the key ceremony is not the wedding but the engagement. Last weekend was the traditional engagement party.

The ritual began with a procession of the fiance's representatives bringing the fiancee gifts covered in bright red cloths.

Notice the box on the right? That is a whole roasted pig from Sinh Sinh.

After the gifts came the introductions, the granting of permission to start dating, prayers to the ancestors, the presentation of the ring -- and then the feast. During the feast, we ate some of the gifts, including much of the pig. But not the head.

Traditionally, the pig's head is a special gift taken home by the fiance's parents. The problem is that my friend's parents are not Vietnamese. They don't eat pig's heads. So the fiancee consulted her elders about whether it would be a bad omen for the fiance's parents to give away the head. It wasn't.

Then they gave the head to the only person on the fiance's side who might eat it -- me.

What do you do with a pig's head? - day 1

My wife refused to allow the head in the refrigerator. "I'm not going to look at that." So the immediate task was disassembly.

The ears were a gift to my dog. I like pig ears. But I love my dog.

Then I removed the roasted head meat. A pig's head has more meat than you might think. Much of it is in the cheeks. I was permitted to store the meat until I figured out how to use it.
But what to do with the remaining skull? After much research, I finally decided to make broth.

In Western cooking, pork broth is rare. But it is widely used in Asia. And soup guru James Paterson highly recommends the full flavor of a pork bone broth. (Although he says nothing about heads).

So I made a stock with the skull. The problem was that the broth took about 3 hours. And at about hour 2, the house really started to stink.

It is hard to describe the smell. It was sickly sweet, foul, pungent.

My wife left the house.

After refrigeration, the stock turned into the texture of jell-o. The skull had leached a lot of collagen into the broth, giving it an amazingly thick texture.

I stored away my stock/jell-o and pig's head meat. As I lay in bed, falling asleep, I wondered what I might do with them on Sunday.

What do you do with a pig's head? - day 2

By morning, I had decided to make soup. But what kind?

Again, I turned to James Paterson. His book includes a few Asian pork soups using an ingredient I had never seen -- Szechuan preserved vegetable. I didn't use his recipes, but I went looking for this ingredient. After a few stores, I finally found a can at Super H Mart. The can had rusted outside, as though it had been shelved a very long time.

Nothing prepared me for the foulness inside:

The preserved vegetable is ugly. But the smell may be worse than any other food -- even durian.

I heated my stinky stock, added the stinky vegetable, and the pig's head meat. Then I added some noodles, szechuan peppercorns, and green onions, thinking they could only help.

By this point, I was nauseous from the smell of the stock, and even more from the stinky vegetable. I knew this soup was going to be bad.

So what happened? If you have watched Tony Bordain or Andrew Zimmern, you know that stinky, gross food stories always have one of two endings:

1 - the food tastes just as bad as it smells.
or
2 - the flavor is a nice surprise.

This story has a happy ending.

The broth was one of the richest, meatiest broths I had ever tasted. The stinky vegetables added a sour note, which made it more complex. The meat looked different from normal sliced pork, but tasted good. The noodles added body.

The only problem was the preserved vegetable. It helped the broth, but the chunks of vegetable were so sour, so putrid, and so foul, that I only could eat a few.

But now, two days later, the preserved vegetables taste just fine. They have mellowed, with no more pungency than a slightly-pickled cabbage. And the broth tastes even better.

So dearest Ann and Mark, I wish you the happiest joy and the best luck on your engagement and marriage.

And thank you so very much for the pig's head.

Houston's diversity - food for thought

2009-03-11T10:31:00.002-05:00

Last week, many of you commented about ethnic foods that are not well-represented in Houston.

Today, the NYT has an interactive graphic showing the number of foreign-born immigrants in every American county. It helps explain why Houston restaurants have a lot of some cuisines, but not others.

Some facts are obvious: Houston has more Vietnamese immigrants than Russians. But other details are fascinating:

•Houston has more Vietnamese-born residents (more than 44,000) than anywhere outside of California. But three California counties (Los Angeles, Orange County, and Santa Clara) have more.

•Houston has far fewer Russian-born immigrants (2,876) than well over a dozen counties around the country. That may explain why we have no Russian restaurants.

•But, Houston has fewer Japanese-born immigrants (2,665) than Russians. Yet we have 140 sushi restaurants.

•Houston had fewer Chinese-born immigrants in 2000 (16,115) than California, New York, Chicago, Boston, and Seattle.

•Compared to some areas of the country, Houston does not get many immigrants from the entire continent of Africa (21,574). The Northeast, California, and even one county in Minnesota (!?) get more. But Chicago has fewer.

•Only two cities in the U.S. -- Los Angeles and Chicago -- have more Mexican-born residents than Houston.

•Houston beats Dallas and every other Texas city in every immigrant group -- with one exception: Dallas has slightly more Koreans.

Conclusions and Questions

This data suggests that Houston is the most immigrant-diverse American city outside of New York and California. (Chicago has as many immigrants, but is a much larger city.)

But:

-If we have more Russian-born immigrants than Japanese, why do we have 140 Japanese restaurants and not a single Russian one? Who is cooking all of Houston's "Japanese" food?

-If we have more African-born residents than Chinese, why do we have so few African restaurants and so many good Chinese restaurants?

-Does it make sense to refer to that long stretch of Bellaire as "Chinatown"? We have far more Vietnamese immigrants than Chinese. I suspect our Chinatown may be much more of a Chinese/Vietnamese hybrid.

Corn Smut

2009-03-06T14:05:00.009-06:00

So, I was at a party this week. I'd had some drinks. I was about to leave, but everyone was having a good time. One thing led to another.

And then someone brought out the corn smut.

Huitlacoche Crepes

Corn smut is a disease in corn. It is seen as a pest in the U.S. But in Mexico, it is a delicacy called huitlacoche.

Huitlacoche turns corn into large fungus-like tumors. It is a black, mushy mess. It looks unappetizing at best.

One of the party-goers named Vivianne had brought some canned huitlacoche from Mexico. And she had used it to cook up a pan of huitlacoche crepes. She also cooked chicken crepes. But everyone preferred the huitlacoche -- even after we told them what it was.

Huitlacoche has a lovely soft, creamy texture. The flavor is mellow, not strong. It is earthy, and just a little sweet.

I had tried huitlacoche before -- in an egg dish at El Mirador in San Antonio. (Plus ethnic food guru Jay Francis may have given me a bite of huitlacoche. He brings odd foods to Chowhound events). But I have never seen it in Houston restaurants.

Vivianne had discovered that crepes are huitlacoche's perfect delivery vehicle. The thin, delicate pancakes and a light layer of cheese complimented its mild flavor.

I left the party wanting -- no, needing -- more huitlacoche.

Can someone help me? Are there any restaurants where I can get this stuff in Houston?

Houston restaurants - What's missing?

2009-03-02T12:09:00.005-06:00

Houston is proud of its food diversity. We have over 140 sushi, 450 Chinese, 170 Vietnamese, and 840 Mexican restaurants. In America, only New York and parts of California are more diverse.

But a lot of good cuisines are missing. There are types of food that every city with 5.6 million people should have. And we don't.

1. Portuguese. I love Portuguese food -- especially seafood stews. When I lived in Boston, there were countless Portuguese restaurants within 3 miles of my apartment. Houston only has Oporto, a Portuguese bar with a limited tapas menu.

2. German. After the Spanish, many of early European settlers to Texas were Germans. German place names are everywhere west of Houston. Yet our only German restaurants are Rudi Lechner's and Old Heidelberg. That's it. (It's a shame that Alfredo's sausage house on Montrose closed).

3. Ethiopian. I only know of two good Ethiopian restaurant in Houston - Addisaba and Blue Nile. Yet many smaller American cities, like Boston and D.C., have dozens.

4. Delis. Yes, Houston has over 100 places that claim to be delis. But good delis? New York-quality delis? Hardly. Instead the market is dominated by bland chains that hardly deserve to be called delis. Years ago, Houston had a fantastic Jewish Deli -- Alfred's. Today, we don't have any quite as good. The only ones that excite me at all are Khan's, Nielsen's, Kenny & Ziggy's and Specs. For a city our size, we should have more.

5. Moroccan. We have one Moroccan restaurant -- Saffron. It is quite good. But one Moroccan restaurant isn't enough for 5.6 million people.

6. New Mexican-Mexican. Mexican food in New Mexico is different. It uses ingredients like green chiles and blue corn. It is famous for dishes like posole and a unique kind of chile relleno. It can be extremely spicy. And it is quite different from Tex Mex. We have Chuy's and Canyon Cafe -- restaurants with a slight New Mexican influence. But we have little authentic New Mexican food.

7. Russian. In the past, Houston had some good Russian restaurants. Currently, I know of none.

8. Eastern European. We have three very good restaurants representing three Eastern European cuisines: Polonia (Poland), Charivari (Romanian), and Cafe Pita (Bosnia). But that is about it. Where in Houston can you get a Hungarian bean soup, Croatian mushroom-stuffed tomatoes, or Bulgarian red pepper stew?

9. Rural Texas food. There are fascinating rural foods in Texas that Houstonians just seem embarassed to serve. Central Texas from Schulenberg to Fredricksburg has a unique mix of German, Czech, and rural American food. And East Texas has a distinctive brand of Southern American cooking. These local cuisines get little respect in Houston are barely represented in our restaurants.

10. Molecular gastronomy. Most major cities have at least one restaurant that features avant garde cooking, i.e., WD-50 (New York), Alinea (Chicago), Minibar (D.C.), and Bazaar (Los Angeles). We had laidback manor for less than a year. But currently we don't have anything close to MG or any other branch of the avant garde.

UPDATE: Come to think of it, what Houston really needs is conveyor belt sushi so we can do this.

ملوخية - Molokhia at Mint Cafe

2009-02-28T11:52:00.005-06:00

Ever run across a food that you have never tried -- never even heard of -- and it blows you away?

That is exactly what happened last night at Mint Cafe.

Mint Cafe

Mint Cafe is one of Houston's best Middle Eastern restaurants. The young guy who manages the floor is one of the nicest folks in the Houston restaurant business. He once explained that his family is from all over the Middle East, including Egypt.

Last night, I asked him about the daily special - a dish I had never heard of. He said that it is one of his favorite foods. He usually eats it every Friday, the only day that the kitchen makes it. But he can't eat it now, because it's Lent.

ملوخية

This dish -- named after its main ingredient -- is ملوخية in Arabic. But in English, there are at least 18 different ways to spell it. Mint Cafe uses different spellings on their specials sign and the receipt. Google seems to prefer this spelling: molokhia.

Molokhia is one of Egypt's national dishes. (The other is ful mudammus, which is also one of Mint Cafe's best dishes.)

Mint Cafe's molokhia is basically chicken, water, garlic, and the finely chopped molokhia plant. It may have a little spice -- most recipes use corriander. At the table, you add rice and a vinegar sauce with chopped onion, which enhances the flavor even more.

So, you ask, how good can a chicken & rice soup be? Chicken and rice usually don't excite me. But this was something completely different.

Molokhia is often described as similar to spinach. It may look like spinach, but does not taste like it.

The flavor is very distinctive. I don't have a good flavor reference point. It tastes less green and vegetal than it does earthy and almost meaty. Of course, that may be the interaction with chicken and spices. But the flavor is completely unlike any chicken stew or soup I have ever had. It also is quite addictive.

Keep in mind that Mint Cafe only serves molokhia on Fridays. And they don't sell beer and wine. So bring your own.

On Airline (Triple A and El Bolillo Panaderia)

2009-02-25T00:08:00.002-06:00

Going to the Triple A with Houston Foodie

Triple A Restaurant, next to Canino's Market, is a time capsule, transporting you back 50 years.

On Friday, I introduced it to Houston Foodie - another blogger with deep East Texas roots. I tried to explain to HF that the best aproach to Triple A is to order one of the daily specials, which all come with 3 sides. So I ordered the special gumbo with sides of greens, pinto beans, and peach cobbler. Although all of these were good, the best were the greens and cobbler.

But HF had something else in mind. He saw that the regular menu listed chicken fried steak. The waitress warned him, "That takes 20 minutes. The specials take about 2." HF didn't care.

When the chicken fried steak arrived (before I got my daily special), it was a monster -- so big that its sides fell over the edges of the plate. As HF worked his way through the steak, he was obviously enjoying it. "Want to try a bite," he offered?

As I bit into the steak, I noticed the crispy batter with large flakes. It covered a tender, thin layer of beef. HF suggested that he could not think of a better CFS in Houston. I thought a minute. "Maybe Barebecue Inn?" Then again, maybe not.

Triple A's CFS was unexpectedly wonderful, and quite possibly Houston's best CFS. It's a shame I didn't take a photo.

Bread at El Bolillo Panaderia

After lunch, HF suggested that we walk across Airline and try El Bolillo -- a Mexican bakery in a giant new building.

I go to a lot of Mexican bakeries. I know about their deliciously sweet breakfast breads. I did not expect to be surprised by El Bolillo. But I was.

El Bolillo is a Mexican bakery on steroids. This enormous bakery has dozens of varieties of sweet breads, tortillas, pastries, cakes, and custards.

I only tried two sweet breads -- one that resembled cheesecake, and another that was like bread pudding without the pudding. Both were delicious.

Don't be surprised to hear more about El Bolillo in these pages.

The Iceman Cometh and Eateth Hamburgers and Proclaimeth

2009-02-23T21:18:00.006-06:00

I was frozen in time on November 22, 2007. On October 8, 2007, AE was gracious enough to toss me the keys to this fine blog. I wrote several posts, enjoying myself immensely, and then, I vanished, much to the shock and horror of my legions of adoring fans.

Yes, that's correct, legions.

Gentle readers, have mercy, for just a few days later, I encountered the true nemesis of fine dining everywhere:

a screaming doodiemonster.

This was the birth of my beloved Baby E.

Not having the benefit of having extended family Deepinthehearta, Mrs. E and myself immediately went from foodies who live to eat out to housebound parents, which has been a lovely ride but for quite awhile put a serious damper on our eating out.

It did give me the opportunity to work on my cooking, which has improved substantially, if the diners' reports are to be trusted. Though this is a food blog about Houston, I will from time to time post reports of my latest culinary stylings, such as they are, if AE and the readership of this blog will indulge me.

But, Baby E is barrelling towards toddlerdom, literally and figuratively, and the (Foodie) Iceman has begun to thaw just a bit. For some reason, AE agreed to give me the wheel of FiH again, and I will do my best to earn his trust in this regard.

Enough with the chat-chat; on with the food. One of the few restaurants Mrs. E and I did manage to make it out to whilst Baby E ~~held us hostage~~ began to make em's way was Reef, which any good reader of this blog knows inside and out. The short of it was that we both loved it, and were particularly impressed with the way Caswell captured Houston cuisine. Southwestern elements, Tex-Mex, Vietnamese, Cajun, Southern, barbecue all seem to find some kind of a place on his menu, with spectacular results. I would have laughed in your face if you would have told me I would like jalapeno mint jelly with my (yeast) bread, but hey, I'm a believer.

So, I was stirred into action by AE's latest missive on burgers, which, I have to say, puzzled me quite a bit. As I remarked to AE privately, what is not to like about burgers? Nice fatty beef, grilled, topped with outraged onions (which suit my perpetual sense of outrage at just about everything), served on lovely bread, with a side of freedom fries . . .

I can only eat hamburgers every once in awhile, and I don't know how Alison Cook, bless her heart, does it every Friday, but I was surprised at AE's muted response to Little Bigs (esp. having tried the sliders at Reef), and resolved to give it a proper test drive myself. This weekend, Mrs. E and I gently removed the soldering iron Baby E was using to affix emself to us, and went to hear Helene Grimaud play Brahms' Piano Concerto No. 1 (glorious, and superior to the more famous No. 2, I think), followed by a stop at Little Bigs. I ordered two beef sliders and a spicy chicken, and Mrs. E did the same.

Pause for a moment to query why the heck portobello still finds its nasty, mealy self into fine dining (yes, I consider Little Bigs at least fine dining-esque, since its genesis was in the kitchen of Reef and the brain of Caswell)? I was watching an Iron Chef America competition in the last few months and had to restrain myself from cheering when one of the judges took Bobby Flay to task for using portobello. Since cost is not a factor in Kitchen Stadium, the judge asked, why use portobello? Aside from being so 1994 (his words), they just don't taste very good. Why not morels (it was a beef dish)?

I love mushrooms. Oyster, shiitake, chanterelle, porcini, cremini, morel, even baby bella mushrooms are good with me. But portobello? The flavor is overpoweringly woody, and they are just so meaty and mealy, you have to literally drown them in fat to have any chance at softening them. They're gross. Those who like portobellos are wrong.

(mostly kidding, but I do find them nasty). As such, especially in anything like a fine dining scenario, portobellos have no business with much of a presence. There are infinitely tastier, more refined fungi than portobello. And so let me also say that using them as a vegetarian substitute for meat -- because of the meatiness of portobello -- only serves to highlight what makes these shrooms so foul to begin with. Get them out of there, Mr. Caswell.

For the record, I adore vegetarian food, and am a huge fan of all manner of veggie burgers (esp. black bean burgers). But portobello is a bit uninspired, especially considering the source, and does not belong on the menu, IMO.

Second point: the spicy chicken burger was too spicy for Mrs. E. After nigh on a decade in Houston, Mrs. E is slowly developing some capacity to handle spice, but cayenne pepper is rough stuff for her, and I did not even think to suggest that most Southern batter recipes do feature cayenne to some extent.

This did not prevent me from eating her spicy chicken burger, of course . . .

Overall, how were the burgers? Excellent, really. Enjoyable little bites, and where else can you go spend $20 dollars for six gourmet sliders, two heavenly baskets of freedom fries (very very good), and contemplate spending roughly twice as much on a Turnbull blend that is almost certainly sold at or near cost ($37)?

I still maintain that for pure burger satisfaction, one would be hard-pressed to find better work than Lankford Grocery or PappasBurger (hey -- they do it well, frankly), but I am certainly no authority on burgerdom.

I am champing at the bit in my haste to try Bedford, as I absolutely adore Robert Gadsby's food. I am especially keen on trying it after reading Jennifer's wonderful review in 002 and learning what Mrs. E and I had discovered after multiple trips to Noe (when he was still cooking there): the man can make incredible food without butter or cream. Amazing, that.

More on that in future posts. For now, the Iceman must retire to his ice cave and contemplate the greater quandaries of life.

(And prepare Baby E's milk)

Bún bò Huế at Pho Danh

2009-02-22T15:29:00.009-06:00

I called one of my best friends to ask his Vietnamese fiancee what is her favorite Vietnamese noodle soup in Houston.

There was a pause. She isn't into superlatives.

"It is hard to find better than the Bún bò Huế at Pho Danh in Hong Kong Mall."

Bún bò Huế isn't Pho

Bún bò Huế is pronounced something like "boon-boh-hway." Say it rapidly without emphasizing any syllable. It is so fun to say that it's addictive.

Bún bò Huế is a Vietnamese noodle soup. To a Westerner, it is a lot like pho. But it isn't pho.

Pho is from Northern Vietnam. Bún bò Huế comes from Hue in Central Vietnam.

Pho's broth is flavored by star anise, cinamon, cloves. Bún bò Huế's broth typically has lemongrass and shrimp paste.

But the biggest difference is this. Pho uses only one meat -- beef. Real Bún bò Huế uses beef flank, but it also uses pigs feet, and cubed blood clots.

Still hungry?

Bún bò Huế and Pho are two of world's most complex, and best-tasting soups. And if I had to chose, I would have to pick Bún bò Huế.

The ever-changing soup of great complexity

These are two photos of the same bowl of soup. Bún bò Huế has a way of changing as you eat it.

The soup arrives with noodles, broth, and meat. But Pho Danh also gives you a giant mound of fresh ingredients to add:

bean sprouts
cabbage
raw jalapenos
lime
basil
and a secret sauce that is so foul and stinky that it must be kept in a sealed container:
When I first opened the container to smell it, I refused to put it in my soup. Fortunately, I reconsidered. The foul paste added a complexity and depth to the soup that improved the flavor.

The tables at Pho Danh have other ingredients you can add -- soy, hoisin, sriracha, fish sauce. But I didn't want to tamper with this already complex dish.

As I worked through the bowl, I encountered the ingredient my friend warned me about -- the blood clots. They had the texture of tofu with a mildly meaty flavor. It is more edible than it sounds, or looks:

Ultimately, the real beauty of Bún bò Huế is not the spaghetti-like noodles, the strange meats, or the dozens of ingredients -- it's the broth.

The broth borrows flavors from everything that has been put in the soup. It becomes a mysterious mix of the garden, the sea, meaty flavors, the vegetal heat of jalapenos, the tanginess of lime, the aromatics of basil, and the funkiness of shrimp paste. The broth changes with every bite, drawing you further into its complexity.

For me, no broth in Western cooking can compare to this.

notes - Mandola's deli, Ibiza, grains for breakfast

2009-02-22T08:32:00.007-06:00

A new format

I'm trying a new format. Fewer long essays. Fewer in-depth restaurant reviews. More short notes about food.

Why? You don't have time to read essays. I don't have time to write them. Besides, most meals are worth a few good thoughts.

So you might see long essays here occasionally. But the plan is to focus on shorter notes.

Mandola's Deli

Mandola's Deli was an unexpected find. When my friends Larry and Halcyon invited me, I expected another upscale chain restaurant that I have come to expect from the Mandola family.

Instead, Mandola's Deli is just a joint.

It serves lunch only. And it has a good crowd, despite its location in a barren industrial area on Cullen, east of I-45.

The biggest surprise was an eggplant parmesan sandwich. I expected the usual eggplant parm grinder -- a giant grease bomb. Although this one came with the mandatory tangy tomato sauce and Mozarella, the eggplant had a thin, delicate but crunchy crust and very little grease.

The breading on the eggplant reminded me of the unique method of frying at the now-closed Frankie B. Mandola's restaurant on Kirby. That Mandola restaurant had crumbled up good-quality bread as a batter on frying. I suspect that Mandola's Deli's eggplant parm may use the same technique.

No matter how they do it, Mandola's makes a mean eggplant parm.

Ibiza for lunch

Ibiza Food and Wine Bar serves one of my favorite soups in town -- the Basque green pepper and crab bisque. Yet Charles Clark's recipe is a mystery to me. Although the soup looks green, you don't taste green pepper. Instead, it has a spicy earthiness unlike any other soup I have found. The chunks of sweet crab are a delicious lagniappe in addition to the green creamy goodness.

At lunch this Wednesday, I also ordered another favorite, Ibiza's salad of roasted beets, pistachio, and goat cheese. As a child, I hated beets. My brother used the word "beets" to mean vommit.

Fortunately, as an adult, beets taste better.

Ibiza's beets were firm and sweet, balanced nicely by the tangy goat cheese. On this visit, the plate came with only red beets. A beet salad is more striking with a mixture of beet varieties with different colors. But the flavor of just red beats is quite good.

Bittman's savory, grain breakfast

The NYT's Mark Bittman wrote a thought-provoking piece this week about eating savory grain dishes for breakfast. He offered several ideas and recipes.

So for Thursday's breakfast, I skipped my usual oatmeal and experimented. I boiled some Israeli couscous with spicy curry powder and a variety of dried fruit.

Perhaps I overdid the curry. My mouth was on fire by the end of breakfast. And I wasn't sure how that made me feel.

Culturally, we have come to expect breakfast to be comforting -- and bland. The spice made me full. And it woke me up. But it was perhaps too abrasive. I worried that I would stink all day of curry.

Even if my execution was poor, Bittman's idea is interesting. It creates a new use for a pantry full of quinoa, couscous, polenta, and farro.

Sandwiches big and small (Little Bigs and Lee's Sandwiches)

2009-02-15T22:51:00.011-06:00

Little Bigs is a new slider stand on Montrose near Westheimer. It is owned by the same guys who own Reef. Although it just opened, Little Bigs is a hit. I went on a Thursday at 11:15 a.m. - before most restaurants get their first lunch customers. Little Bigs was packed.

I watched as the kitchen delivered a plate of fries topped with a single, tiny burger to a lanky high-school student. He stared at the slider in disbelief. "That's it?" he asked. "What a rip."

Sliders and sandwich economics

This is not a review. It is a tale of sandwich economics. Still, I should start by saying that Little Bigs sliders taste pretty good. I tried all three kinds.

The first was a burger with onions and sauteed onions. I am no expert on burgers. Little Bigs' 3 oz. beef slider was fine. It was a little dull. But then, I find most burgers a little dull.

The 'shroom slider was more interesting. It consisted of a portobello mushroom with a crispy crust.

Easily the best was easily the chicken slider. Little Bigs calls it "all-natural, hand-breaded spicy chicken." It was indeed spicy and had a very crispy crunch. The flavor and texture of this little sandwich puts Chick-fill-A to shame.

All three sliders were served on delicious yeast rolls. It was primarily the rolls that elevated these them above ordinary fast food.

Yet the most remarkable quality of these sandwiches is their size. Each slider is about four bites. They are undeniably cute. And their tiny size means you can eat all three kinds of sandwiches without getting very full.

Then there is the question of price. A meal at Little Bigs will cost most folks around $10. One slider is $2.08. Three sliders are $5.78. Cheese is extra. Fries (which I did not try) are $1.62. Shakes are $3.70.

So was the high-school student's $2 slider "a rip"? That question took me a whole week to ponder. And I did not find the answer until I went to a Vietnamese sandwich shop.

More sandwich for the $ at Lee's Sandwiches

Lee's Sandwiches is a wildly popular sandwich shop, on Bellaire outside the Beltway. It serves Banh Mi -- Vietnamese sandwiches on French bread. Lee's, part of a California-based chain, is perhaps the largest sandwich shop I have seen. On a Sunday afternoon around 2:00 p.m., it had well over 100 customers.

Lee's grilled pork sandwich is a monster. It comes on a loaf of French bread more than a foot long. The loaf is filled with grilled pork, marinated onions, carrots, and cilantro.

This is not the best Banh Mi in Houston. But it is pretty good. The French bread is fantastic -- crunchy on the outside, soft in the middle. The condiments are tasty and varied. Yet I have had much better grilled Vietnamese pork elsewhere. It was overly fatty, and the marinade was not as flavorful as some Vietnamese pork. Still, the sandwich was respectable.

Lee's giant Banh Mi easily is as much food as 3 Little Bigs Sliders. It costs $2.45. Double meat is an extra $0.75. For Banh Mi in Houston, this sandwich was average price. But compared to the cost of a meal at Little Bigs, it was a bargain.

What explains the price difference?

Why is a meal at Little Bigs so much more expensive? The answer lies in the uniqueness of a tiny sandwich. There is something special about these diminutive sandwiches that captures the imagination. We like them because they are small, cute, squeezeable, bite-sized.

But more importantly, Little Bigs' sliders do not have competition. Lee's competes with dozens of Banh Mi shops in Houston. That keeps the price low. But Little Bigs (as far as I know) serves the only fast-food sliders in Houston. So when Houstonians feel like eating a cute little cheeseburger without going to a fancy restaurant, there is only one place to go.

So I applaud the founders of Little Bigs. They have found an ingenious way to make us pay more for less food. They will make a lot of money -- at least until 20 other slider joints open around town.

UPDATE - It's over already: Hours after this post, I saw a new ad for Burger King sliders. The message? Hot young women adore little sliders because they are so cute and squeezeable.

I'm sure Little Bigs sliders are better than Burger King. But Little Bigs' monopoly of the Houston slider market is over before it began. After all, it wouldn't be fair to allow just one business to capitalize on all the extra money that the American consumer will pay just to get a cute, tiny, little sandwich.

Updates: Bedford, Beaver's

2009-02-09T13:24:00.003-06:00

Bedford and Beaver's Ice House are works in progress. Both Inner Loop restaurants had slightly awkward starts. But both have oustanding chefs and the potential to rank among Houston's top restaurants.

Bedford for lunch

Bedford is now open for lunch. With most items in the $10 - $14 range, lunch is the most economical way to try this upscale restaurant.

A plate of braised short ribs is served with short ribs, braised pork belly, mashed potatoes, black-eyed peas, and a vinegary jus. The short ribs and belly were remarkably lean for those cuts of meat. But they fell apart with the touch of a fork and were full of flavor. My guess is that they benefited from a lengthy braising time. I also was impressed with the meaty, vinegary jus, which had more bite than I expected. It is a warming dish on a cold winter day.

In December my biggest complaint about Bedford had been the space. It felt cavernous, cold, and empty. Part of the problem was that chairs and tables had been moved to accommodate a large group. And part of the problem was the lack of color.

Now the space seems warmer now with new modern art on the wall. And when the tables are configured normally, it does not feel so cavernous. Still, I just don't get the dull brown light fixtures.

Officially, Bedford is not open yet. It's "grand opening" is February 28th. But it is unofficially open for lunch, dinner, and Sunday brunch.

Robert Gadsby is one of our best chefs. If it can survive the downturn, Bedford should be one of Houston's best restaurants.

A tasting menu at Beaver's

Beaver's had a rocky start. The dishes I tried in the first year were nothing special. But I knew that the food would improve with the addition of Chef Jonathan Jones.

Last week, a group of food bloggers tried Beaver's for a tasting menu lunch. Food Princess has a longer description with photos of the event.

Many of the best dishes are not currently on the menu -- raw oysters, oyster nachos, a fried fish, and vegetarian tamales. Sadly, the barbecue was mostly gone before the platter reached me. But I did try some flavorful smoked chicken.

Based on what I tried, Chef JJ is living up to his promise. And the food at Beaver's is much, much better.

But one puzzle remains: why is it taking so long for Chef JJ's creations to make it on to the menu? The menu continues to include a number of older, dull dishes, that pre-dated his arrival. I'm hoping to see the menu change rapdily and start including some of these great new dishes that the bloggers tried last week.

The Beaver's concept captures the essence of Houston's laid-back culture and our local food. It could become one of the city's defining restaurants -- the sort of place where you want to take your out-of-town guests to show them what Houston food is really like.

My one-and-only burger post

2009-01-29T13:08:00.010-06:00

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Burgers and Houston food writers

To write about food in Houston, it seems you have to write about burgers.

Robb Walsh has eaten and written about many burgers. He even claims to have found the best burger in Texas.

Alison Cook writes about so many burgers that she has a column called "Burger Friday."

There is even a guy -- the Texas Burger Guy -- who has a blog about nothing but burgers.

I have a confession to make. I don't eat burgers often -- maybe 3 or 4 a year. And I have never written a post about burgers. (Well, at least not about burgers in Houston).

Life is too short -- and there is too much good food -- for me to waste time eating burgers. Plus, eating too many burgers may just make life shorter.

But to get some Houston food writer cred, I'm going to have to write about a burger -- at least this once.

Someburger

Today, I found myself at Someburger. This to-go stand at 11th and Studewood is one of the oldest burger joints in Houston. It is kind of cool to stand on the sidewalk and order a burger through the sliding window that has been there for decades.

How do I describe the Someburger? It had an old-fashioned bun -- fluffy and a little squishy. The meat was, well, . . . meaty. It was thin and fully cooked, but somewhat juicy. The burger came with iceberg lettuce, limp tomato slices, and a few pickle slices.

This was a pretty good burger, better than a fast food burger. Yet it was like a lot of other burgers.

AARGH! I just can't do this. I admit it. I don't have anything intelligent to write about burgers. So I'm not going to write any more burger posts.

If I ever wanted to be a food writer in Houston, it's all over now.

Cannelloni (at Sweet Temptation and Trattoria Lisina)

2009-01-27T07:42:00.016-06:00

"while most people understand that Tex-Mex and so-called 'Interior Mexican' are two different things, the perceived differences between Italian-American cuisine and authentic Italian cuisine are far fuzzier, because you almost never see the latter in America."

Robin Goldstein, Fearless Critic Houston Restaurant Guide

Sweet Temptation's cannelloni

Sweet Temptation is a new, cute (BYOB!) Italian restaurant near the Heights. It is on Airline across from Teotihuacan. Reader comments on b4-u-eat say that the owner-chef is related to restaurant owners in Italy and that he has cooked in some well-known Houston Italian restaurants.

When I stopped in last week for lunch, I was the only customer. "What's best?" I asked the waitress.

"Our cannelloni special is to die for" she responded.

I hadn't had cannelloni since I stopped buying microwave TV dinners -- about 18 years ago. But I decided to try it anyway.

Two squares of fresh lasagna pasta were rolled around a filling of chicken and ricotta cheese. These were topped with a classic tomato basil sauce.

I was most impressed with the fresh pasta. It was toothsome and chewy, not crispy nor over-baked. The flavor in the dish was provided, not by the bland ricotta filling, but by the bright and tangy tomato sauce. The fresh basil provided aromatic notes.

I enjoyed my lunch. And I left the restaurant pondering cannelloni.

Why cannelloni makes me suspicious

Something about cannelloni strikes me as inauthentic. It is served at most Carrabba's and Macaroni Grills. Yet I have not seen it on the menu at Da Marco or Arcodoro. More importantly, I have eaten in dozens of restaurants in Italy. I have never seen cannelloni on an Italian menu.

Cannelloni has all the ingredients of inauthentic American Italian food. Pasta. Cheese. Tomato sauce. These classic American-Italian ingredients define the cannelloni.

Plus, it looks just like an enchillada. Ultimately, Americans will turn any food into a wrap.

Yet the cannelloni really is authentic. A restaurant in the tourist town of Sorrento claims to have invented the cannelloni at the beginning of the 20th Century. The restaurant's photos of the cannelloni look a lot like the cannelloni served in Texas.

Cannelloni may look like Americanized Italian food, but now I know it comes from Italy.

Cannelloni Lisina

As a twist of fate, I encountered a second cannelloni in the same week.

I found myself last weekend with a large group in Driftwood, Texas. Someone suggested we eat lunch in a trattoria that had been built in a middle of a vineyard. I had visions of a Tuscan outpost serving authentic Italian food.

When we walked in to this small-town trattoria, I was shocked. It looked just like a Maccaroni Grill, but was twice as large. It was nearly full. And it was owned by the Mandolas.

Trattoria Lisina sits in the middle of the Mandolas' winery. On Saturday afternoon, it was packed with more customers than people who live in Driftwood. This was an extremely successful, crowd-pleasing operation.

Of course, I had to order their specialty pasta -- Cannelloni Lisina.

The Mandolas' cannelloni had all the basic cannelloni elements. But the filling had much less ricotta and much more ground meat -- chicken, veal, and pork. On top was not just tomato sauce, but also a creamy bechamel.

Compared to Sweet Temptation, Lisina's cannelloni was much meatier and creamier. (The Mandolas know what Texans like). But the pasta was a little too baked and did not have that fresh-pasta texture of the pasta at Sweet Temptation. The dish at Sweet Temptation had been much lighter, and did not cause me to fall asleep. Lisina's cannelloni caused an afternoon nap - during a business meeting.

Authentic Italian food?

Authenticity may be overrated. But I can't help thinking about it. The cannelloni at both Texas restaurants -- particularly Sweet Temptation -- looks like the cannelloni on the website of the restaurant in Sorrento, Italy. So they must be at least somewhat authentic.

Still, I would be willing to bet that cannelloni is much less popular in Italy than in Texas.

The Houston food blog explosion

2009-01-23T09:49:00.004-06:00

My list of links is growing.

Houston has had an explosion of food blogs over the past year. Three years ago, you could count on one hand the number of blogs that discussed Houston restaurants. Now we have over 20. It seems like I have added at least 5 new blogs to my links in the last week.

What is the explanation?

These are a few possibilities:

1 - Jenny did it. She has jump-started the Houston food dialogue in a way that no one else has. She started the Houston Chowhound web board less than a year ago. She also has organized countless meals where bloggers mingle with other food fans, many of whom were inspired to start their own sites.

2 - Everyone wants to write a blog. There has been a lot of discussion about blogs for the past 5 or 6 years. But now, a much wider group of people know how to do it. And they believe they have something to say.

3 - Food flavors have become a topic of conversation. For years, wine writers such as Robert Parker and Jancis Robinson have engaged in a dialogue about wine that focuses on texture and flavors. "This medium dark ruby-colored effort reveals soft, berry flavors with steely/mineral-like notes in the background." For the most part, no one wrote that way about food. Sure, restaurant critics wrote about dining and chefs talk about cooking. But there was a lack of conversation about flavors. Food blogs focus more on the minutiae of flavor.

4 - Gladiator chefs. Do you remember the thrill and excitement of the first time you saw the original Iron Chef? The idea was so audacious -- turn chefs into gladiator heroes and pit them in battle against each other. Five years later, we are inundated with chef challenges and battles and contests. Cooking has become a gladiator sport. And the equivalent of the sports spectator blogs are the food blogs.

Recommended blogs

My list of blogs on (on the right side of the page) is democratic. If I hear about an active blog that addresses Houston food regularly, I include it. If you have a blog and want to be on it, just mention your blog in a comment.

Still, I have several favorites. To me, these blogs epitomize the diffent types of food fans:

Tasty Bits. Misha puts Houston in an international perspective. He travels around the work on business, and eats very well. So when he talks about a Houston restaurant, he really can compare it to places like French Laundry, Brasserie Roux, and Alinea. He's been there.

She eats. This is perhaps our most casual, funniest, and most personal food blog. Who else could create an hour-by-hour account of every weekend -- and actually make it interesting? The number of posts are down recently because the author has been writing slightly more serious pieces for the the Houston Press blog (below).

I'm never full. Houston's best-named blog. Great photos. Some of the most authoritative writing about Houston's Chinatown. The author has exposed me to more restaurants than anyone else in town.

Texas Burger Guy. There is nothing better than a healthy obsession. Ok, maybe not so healthy.

Eating . . . Our Words. The Houston Press's blog has a great collection of writers, from Jay Franciss to Katharine Shilcutt to Robb Walsh. There is no betters source for food news.

10 Resolutions for the New Year

2009-01-21T12:27:00.008-06:00

Yes, this is 21 days late. I took my time.

New Year's resolutions should not be adopted lightly.

1 - "Eat food . . . mostly plants." Michael Pollan's reasons are ethical and health-related. My reasons are more aesthetic. Plant foods are fascinating, and do not get enough respect. For instance, in restaurants, dishes are typically organized by the meat. Yet the quality of a dish more often turns on the sides, and not the meat.

2 - Go to good local restaurants that might be at risk in the bad economy. It helps the restaurants stay open. And it means more meals there before they close.

3 - Host one dinner party each month. Invite at least two guests I don't know. Food is a great way to meet people. And meeting people is a great way to enjoy food. See this guy who says eating with others is the key to success in business. That should make Jenny, the organizer of all those Houston Chowhound meals, the most successful person in Houston.

4 - When eating meat, eat the strange parts. It is a more sustainable way to eat meat. It is also cheaper -- and more interesting.

5 - Avoid the center aisles. That is where grocery stores sell all their industrially processed foods.

6 - Shop at local farmer's markets at least once a month. Sure, the cost of transporting the small quantities of produce sold in farmer's markets may outweigh any environmental benefits of locally-grown food. But much of this stuff is more flavorful, and stranger, than anything in stores.

7 - Eat Mexican food where the recent immigrants eat. I have had enough Tex-Mex for a lifetime. Where is the real Mexican food?

8 - Figure out Italian wines. They go well with food. Many are earthy and complex. Most are not over-oaked. And the price isn't bad. They are just so darned hard to figure out.

9 - Take food trips to San Antonio and Dallas. Four reasons: Le Reve, York Street, Nana, and Abacus.

10 - Lose 10 pounds. Sure, everyone says this. I really mean it. I also put it last on my list, which means I have my priorities straight.

New Menu at the Rainbow Lodge

2009-01-20T10:51:00.016-06:00

The menu

In November, Randy Rucker became the Rainbow Lodge's new head chef. Last week, he unveiled his new menu.

I have been anticipating this menu. It presents an interesting challenge for Rucker -- the balancing of two very different crowds.

Crowd 1 are the traditionalists. They are the long-time fans of the chops and wild game at the Lodge. And from the look of the crowd last Saturday, most are over 50.

Crowd 2 are the fans of Rucker's innovative and creative cuisine. Three years ago, I called him Houston's the most revolutionary chef. Since then, he has developed a following of local foodies. And they expect some fireworks.

So last Saturday I snuck in with my wife and daughter, hoping Rucker wouldn't see me and offer up some fabulous tasting. After all, I wanted to try this new menu. Until the end of the meal, my plan worked.

Balancing act 1 - charcuterie and sausage

We started hardcore. Rucker offers an amazing cold charcuterie plate for only $12. The meats include foie gras, pancetta, and terrines of pork, duck, and lamb. Rucker told me later that the Lodge had a lot of wasted meat - pieces that were not the most prized cuts. What better way to use it?

The variously-textured terrines highlighted the flavors of the meat, but added complimentary spices and flavors. The meats were accompanied by "seasonal marmelade" and large chunks of grilled sourdough bread.

One of my favorite breakfasts is bacon and jelly on toast. This is sort of like that. But better. In fact, for fans of charcuterie, I know of no better dish in Houston.

A more mainstream dish (technically, also charcuterie) consisted of roasted rabbit sausage, smoked bacon, green apple, cabbage and a creamy mustard. I liked the combination of savory, spicy sausage with tart, sweet apple and the spicy mustard. The sausage dish was a winner - even if it could not quite compete with the stunning charcuterie.

Balancing act 2 - trout tartare and duck breast

For our second course, my wife ordered still another daring starter -- Tasmanian sea trout tartare. The trout was served with watercress, avocado, and a creamy miso dressing.
The raw trout had a thick, salmon-like texture and a remarkable fresh fish taste. The fish was far more flavorful than most sushi. The creamy, meaty trout and avocado contrasted with the sharp bitterness of watercress. For me, my wife, and daughter, this delicious fish may have been the dish of the night.

I ordered a more traditional second course - duck breast lacquered with smoked honey, sweet potato puree, braised endive, and candied orange. Again, Rucker did a nice job of balancing flavors - meatiness, sweetness, and earthiness. This is a full flavored dish winter that would please both of Rucker's crowds.

The rest of the menu reflects this careful balance. The menu retains some Rainbow Lodge classics, like the wild game appetizer and beef tenderloin. It also has some highly creative dishes that we have not yet tried, such as oyster bisque with salsify noodles and poached egg.

Desserts

For dessert, we started traditionally -- a vanilla bean creme brulee that was remarkably by-the-book. It was appropriately littered with black specks of vanilla bean, and had a textbook crust.

Decadent chocolate involved fudge-like chunks of chocolate with a blood orange syrup. The intense fudge may be too much for some.

At that point, Rucker emerged from the kitchen, and I waved him down. He insisted on bringing an off-the-menu dessert. It looked like a bowl of granola topped with cream and mint -- not very exciting. But after a few minutes, we discovered the surpirse, a layer of smoked chocolate granules on the bottom. I'm not sure how chocolate can be smoked, but I love the flavor. Ultimately, we found this new dessert much more interesting than the other desserts we tried from the menu.

So far, Rucker's new menu looks like a success. The Lodge has given him freedom to boldly go forward with new dishes. He has the wisdom to use part of the menu to please long-time customers. Plus, everyone benefits from his recent focus on the pure flavors of ingredients.

Based on one lunch and a dinner, it appears that the Rainbow Lodge under Randy Rucker is not likely to become Houston's most revolutionary restaurant. Given its size and the nature of its crowd, it can't be. Yet I would argue that the local game and seafood emphasis of the Lodge puts Rucker in a unique position to help define our local cuisine, in a way that Cafe Annie did 20 years ago. Will this be one of Houston's best restaurants? I certainly think so.

On this Saturday night, I carefully watched the older diners as they left. Most looked quite happy. And so were we.

Seco's Latin Cuisine - a Mexican food road not taken

2009-01-16T07:58:00.014-06:00

Seco's Latin Cuisine is a Mexican/European fusion restaurant in Rice Village. The cozy house used to be Cafe Europa. And Chef Seco Moran used to be at Jalapeno's on Kirby.

I like the freshness of Seco's ingredients. I like the idiosyncrasy of Seco's cooking style. But Seco's is most interesting because it represents a road not followed.

Seco was one of the pioneers of a unique style of Houston Mexican food in the late 1980s. Then, it looked as though other restaurants would follow a similar path. They did not. Now Seco stands alone, continuing to cook in a style that others have abandoned

Healthy Mexican-Euro fusion - 80s style

A meal at Seco's starts with the obligatory basket of chips, and Seco's distinctive vinegary salsa -- identical to Jalapeno's. But after the chips, it can be easy to forget you are in a Mexican restaurant.

Seco's Calamari al ajillo doesn't taste like other restaurants' al ajillo dishes. At most restaurants, al ajillo is a thick sauce of olive oil, garlic, and peppers. Seco's version is much lighter and ethereal. The juice seems to be a blend of cooking liquid and a flavored oil other than olive. I pick up a hint of Chinese flavors -- perhaps sesame oil?

There are a few "Mexican" aspects of this dish -- red onions, cilantro, and peppers. And it is spicy. Yet it hardly tastes Mexican.

Another interesting dish is Snapper Seco. This type of preparation was popular 20 years ago -- a fillet of fish topped with a mound of veggies -- here, red onions, jalapeno, garlic, cilantro, capers. On the side are al dente green beans. Again, apart from the jalapeno, there is little to peg this dish as Mexican rather than European -- more specifically, Italian.

Seco continues to serve many of his classic dishes from Jalapenos. His spinach enchiladas covered in a light cream sauce may be the best in Houston.

His menu includes a variety of grilled chicken breast dishes. The most famous, Pollo Moran, is topped with a sautee of mushrooms, onions, and poblanos in a light cream sauce. Interestingly, when Alison Cook reviewed Seco's, she was most intrigued by the healthy, light cream sauces.

A cuilinary dead end?

Seco's food is very fresh and flavorful. And he has some die-hard fans, mostly from Jalepeno's days.

Yet this style of Mexican food didn't stick for long in Houston. We moved on to authentic interior Mexican food (Pico's, Hugo's, Otilla's). We moved on to grilled foods from Northern Mexico (El Tiempo, Guadalajara, Lupe Tortilla, Teotihuacan). And we stuck to our basic Tex-Mex (Tony's, Spanish Flowers).

Seco's reminds me of Daniel Wong's , a Chinese restaurant on Bissonet. In the 80's, Wong's cooking -- a unique, healthy fusion of Chinese and American ingredients and techniques -- was hailed by many as the best Chinese food in Houston. Yet today, in the age of the Asian bistro, Wong's fusion food is as outdated as it is delicious. It missed the Zeitgeist. It is a direction Chinese food in Houston could have taken, but did not.

Why didn't Seco's healthy European fusion style stick? I suspect Houstonians want Mexican food that is more festive, and not elegant (i.e. European). I suspect Mexican restaurants are most crowded on Friday nights because folks want to drink and forget about calories.

So we did not find much of a crowd at Seco's on a Thursday night. But we enjoyed our food a great deal.

And after dinner, we felt good.

Lunches at Voice, Beaver's, Pho Nga

2009-01-14T10:14:00.010-06:00

It is time to clean old photos from my Blackberry. They remind me of good meals I never had time to write about -- meals such as these three lunches.

Voice box lunch

Voice continues to impress. One of my favorite Voice experiences is the box lunch. It comes with choices, but the basic idea is a salad, sandwich, soup, and dessert.

Back in late October, I ordered this lovely box lunch.

Time passes. Memory fades. Especially mine.

I believe the tasty sandwich was ham and brie on a baguette with some sort of sweet, spicy mustard. I do remember enjoying the texture contrast of cruncy bread and creamy, melted cheese.

The soup was Chef Kramer's mushroom cappucino -- one of the best soups in town. The salad was light and simple. But the short cake -- infused with something like lavender and topped with berries -- may have been the star of this lunch.

Voice's box lunch are a fun break at midday and a great 4-course deal at $15.

Beavers' Buffaloaf

I continue to reserve judgment on Beaver's. The idea of a Monica Pope barbecue restaurant is great. The atmosphere is cool. The cocktails are interesting. Yet the food has not grabbed me yet. But with the addition of Chef Jonathan Jones, I fully expect that it will grab me -- at some point.

The only JJ creation I have tried at Beaver's is the Buffaloaf Sandwich -- buffalo meatloaf topped with a mushroom sauce. I appreciated elements of this dish, especially the crusty French bread and the delicious homemade potato chips. On balance, it was a good sandwich, but the ground buffalo and slightly sweet mushroom sauce reminded me somewhat of Sloppy Joes from elementary school. At $12 for just sandwich and chips, it seemed a little pricey.

I hear such wonderful reports about Beavers from foodies who I trust. And I have tried great creations from JJ at other restaurants. So I need to try more.

Pho Nga's special vermicelli with barbecue pork

Some of Houston's best barbecue is served in Vietnamese restaurants.

A reader asked a few weeks ago what restaurants serve good Vietnamese food near downtown. Sadly, with the exodus to Chinatown, Midtown has lost many great Vietnamese-owned restaurants (like the original Givral's, Le Bec Fin). And Vietnamese food fans debate about some of the remaining restaurants, like Mai's and Van Loc, which are popular with a mostly non-Vietnamese crowd.

The one Midtown restaurant that retains a mostly Vietnamese crowd is Pho Nga a/k/a Nga's Restaurant. A Vietnamese friend tells me that Nga is the only Vietnamese restaurant inside the Loop where she will eat.

At lunch last Friday, I had special vermicelli with barbecue pork. The dish is served with thin noodles, pressed flat on the plate and topped by marinated, barbecue pork with green onions and fried onions. On the side is a mountain of fresh greens, cilantro, shredded carrots, cucumbers, and a bowl of strongly flavored fish sauce.

There is something magical about Vietnamese barbecue. I suspect the secret is the marinade, which includes fish sauce, garlic, chili pepper, lime juice, and sugar. The mix is assetive, yet balanced and even mysterious.

Pho Nga is known for both its grilled meats and its pho. As much as I want to try Nga's pho, I can't seem to convince myself order anything but the barbecue.

A few global food trends (2 of 2)

2009-01-13T11:51:00.015-06:00

Food trend #2: The villagers eat meat. The urban rich eat peasant food.

In the U.S., we take meat for granted. Yet, for most of the world, meat has long been a luxury product consumed infrequently. Our trip to a small Spanish mountain village suggests this is changing.

Going to eat with the villagers

Cartajima is a village near Ronda with about 100 residents. It is a typical "white town" of Spain. Every house has a red-tiled roof and whitewashed walls. The architecture is inherited from the Islamic Moors who once ruled this region.

Cartajima's local industry is chestnuts. The fuzzy balls litter the roads leading out of town. In the last 20 years, Spain's economy has improved dramatically. I suspect Cartajima has more money now. But the steady decline in population suggests that it is poorer by comparison than urban Spain.

On the surface, Cartajima feels ancient, pastoral, rustic. As I drove into town, I wondered what wonderfully authentic foods might be prepared in its kitchens.

There is only one place to buy a cooked meal in Cartajima -- Balthazar's Bar. Balthazar has a big screen TV, and about half the town gathers there for football matches. Two of his kids have gone on to bigger and better things. His daughter works in England and even did a stint at the world's highest-rated restaurant, the Fat Duck. His son is a famous Spanish chef.

But Balthazar's food is nothing fancy. I had the sense that we were eating exactly what the locals ate.

More money, more meat

After a decent salad with very white lettuce, we were served a collection of fried foods and meats -- french fries, fried ham croquettes, fried shrimp (with more batter than shrimp), beef stew, and grilled pork.

The next day our innkeeper explained that, as the Spanish standard of living has risen, the villagers are eating more meat and less produce. Produce is a sign of the peasant past. Meat is a sign of prosperity. When they can afford it, the villagers eat meat.

Death of the market; the rise of the supermarket

Our innkeeper also explained that there are no more local markets. Even nearby Ronda, a town of 40,000, does not have much of a market. Instead, everyone buys food at supermarkets.

Curiously, larger cities, such as Sevilla and Jerez, do have markets. They are filled with produce and the exotic sort of ingredients that many American foodies would love to buy.

But the folks in Cartajima have little access to markets. They travel to Ronda's supermarkets and buy industrially processed food. So when we ate like the locals, we ate the same food sold in American supermarkets.

Spain is not alone. Many countries with emerging economies are eating more meat. This is especially true of the Chinese.

As I ate my plate of American-style french fries, I noted the irony. Here, in a beautiful rural setting, in a town known for farming chestnuts, I was eating American-style freezer food and grilled meat. These villagers in rural Spain have less access to rural produce than I do in urban Houston.

Peasant food for rich urbanites

In contrast, the finest restaurants of Jerez -- a larger, richer city -- served plenty of fresh produce and fruit. For instance, even a meat dish, such as this Andalucian pork , was served with purees of red and green peppers and grapes.

Even in Cartajima, we were served a more produce-based dinner by our worldly innkeeper -- a British expat who has traveled throughout Africa and Europe. Her meal reflected the food philosophy summed up by Michael Pollan:

"Eat food. Not too much. Mostly Plants."

The innkeeper gave us a choice of delicious peasant soups: lentil and spinach or potato and leek. She then served a plate of Moroccan-style couscous, grilled red peppers, grilled eggplant, a few bites of grilled chicken, and a bowl of yogurt and herbs.

The meal focused on grains, legumes, and produce. The few bites of meat were just flavoring -- an added bonus of protein.

Although this meal was inspired by peasant food, it reflected the diet of an emerging food elite. As the world's middle class turns to processed foods and industrially-produced meats, the elites may be turning away from meat toward classing ingredients of peasant food -- beans, grains and locally-grown produce.

In terms of social class, the world of food is turning upside down.

Postscript: my kitchen resolutions for 2009

For several years, the food I have cooked at home follows a pattern: large salad, bread, and grilled or simply prepared meat or fish. Yet good fish is getting expensive. And I have been eating too much meat.

Now I sense my cooking habits change. Last week I stocked up on beans, grains, and produce. Last Tuesday, I cooked curried lentils. On Friday, Indonesian noodle soup. On Sunday, a cassoulet with far more beans than meat.

This is not trying to be more like the innkeeper than the villagers. It is about eating foods that the world can sustain. It is about preserving seafood by eating it only on special occasions. It is about promoting a viable market for locally-grown produce.

It is about eating food that is healthier. And better for the planet. I am just lucky that I can choose what I eat.

A few global food trends (1 of 2)

2009-01-13T11:22:00.011-06:00

This is a modest essay about a few global food trends.

I have been reading media reports about overfishing, rising global demand for meat, and environmental damage resulting from the way we eat food. All these ideas seemed abstract.

Over the holidays, my family traveled a second time to southern Spain. Our travels helped me understand some of these food trends better.

Trend #1: scarcity is making seafood a luxury food in Europe

The Mediterranean is where civilization began. From the time of the Phoenecians, these people have eaten seafood. It is hard to emphasize how important fishing and seafood is in southern Spain and Italy.

In Southern Spain, we found seafood much more central to the diet, particularly in fine restaurants, than here. And restaurants serve a much wider variety than we see in Houston. For instance, I have a hard time imagining the Sevillian sea snails above on most Houston menus.

The death of the Mediterranean

Like many of the world's seas, the Mediterranean suffers from overfishing. It's serious. Overfishing may soon extinguish local stocks of tuna, mackerel, cod, and swordfish. According to the Independent, overfishing and pollution are turning the Mediterranean into a "graveyard."

We found that the price of wild seafood had increased dramatically since our last visit four years ago.

The rising price of European seafood

This bowl of monkfish in a thick egg-based soup was one of the least expensive seafood dishes at El Caballo Rojo in Cordoba. It cost over $30.

In Sevilla, we returned to La Isla -- a restaurant known for wild-caught seafood delivered fresh from Galicia and Huelva. We ordered a platter of simply grilled seafood including swordfish, monkfish, salmon, squid, clams, shrimp, and a few other shirmp I can't translate. It costs around $60.

The real shock occurred in the small port town of Sanlucar de Barrameda. Casa Bigote is a seedy sailors' bar with a small restaurant attached. It is a foodie destination known for langoustines -- small lobsters that seem more like very large shrimps.

The menu did not list the langoustines' price. When I ordered in beginner's Spanish, the waiter tried to communicate with me about the size of the order. I made the mistake of ordering "la plancha."

The enormous platter that arrived was one of the most decadently wonderful seafood dishes I have eatern. And, as I learned, the most expensive.

Words can't describe the salty-fresh sea flavor of these creatures. As the rest of my family carefully fished out the meat, I was grabbing the heads to suck out all the delicious juices.

Overwhelmed by the plate, I tried to tell the waiter that I had ordered "demasiado" and to cancel the other dishes we had ordered. But we still received some deliciously crispy small fried "gambas" or shrimp. They were fried whole, which is exactly how we ate them.

Finally, we received te bill. The langoustines alone cost $150. I have never paid that much for any plate of food.

After this inadvertent splurge, our food budget was exhausted. For the rest of the trip, we stopped ordering seafood. And as we switched to meats, vegetables, and grains, our meals became cheaper.

The future of American seafood?

In the U.S., we have a greater supply of seafood. And prices are lower. Yet a report in Science suggests that, if current trends continue, there will be virtually nothing left to fish from any of the globe's seas by the middle of this century.

In short, even here, wild-caught seafood will soon be a short-supply luxury item. In ten years, it may not be that rare to find a $150 plate of seafood in Houston.

This is my ethical dillemma: do I try to do my part to conserve and eat less seafood? Or do I eat as much as I can now, before prices go up more?

This plate of fried sardines from Sevilla isn't making my choice any easier:

Next: The villagers turn to meat. The urban rich turn to peasant food.

halcyon days: a dinner at Textile

2009-01-10T01:17:00.017-06:00

When Scott Tycer's Aries closed two years ago, I was mad -- so mad that I brought this blog out of hibernation. I was mad because the Houston food scene had not supported the work of one of our formost geniuses.

But now, Tycer has opened Textile. And I finally tried it tonight. My wonderfully psychedellic evening at Textile convinced me that Textile is not the work of a single genius. It is the work of at least four geniuses.

Genius #1: The Bartender

We had a 9:30 reservation. Our table was not ready for almost an hour after that. Ordinarily, that is a prescription for disaster.

But Textile has a sympathetic, creative genius behind the bar. He took care of us. My wife was struggling with severe allergies. So he made her a drink involving ginger beer, whiskey, and honey. He made me a classic Manhattan (easily the best I have ever had). Then he made me a gin drink involving lemon juice and pomegranate seeds. The bartender also brought us some spears of endive with crab meat, avocado, and herbs.

None of this -- not the 3 drinks, not the endive dish -- showed up on our bill. The waiting may be the hardest part. But Textile made a virtue of it. Bravo!

In our hour at the bar, we learned a lot from the bartender about bitters, vanilla bean syrup, aged rye, gin, and absynthe. I recommend asking him to just make you something interesting. He will comply. You will not find a more interesting mixologixt in Houston.

Genius #2: The Chef

Scott Tycer still has the chops. A tart was served with bacon, basted quail egg, wilted bitter greens, and balsamic vinegar. Nothing is better than great-quality bacon and bitter greans. This dish was outstanding.

Black cod is my favorite fish. Tycer's cod came with a crispy skin. The meat of the fish was strangely mushy -- not flaky. Yet the taste -- mixed with caulifower -- was salty and fascinating. The fish texture bothered my wife. I couldn't decide whether the texture was intentional, but with the oustanding flavor, it did not matter. A veal breast was served with leek sausage and truffles hollandaise. The flavorful dish was certainly in the style of Tycer.

Genius #3: The Wine Guy

Textile's wine guy is a classic wine nerd. And he's brilliant.

He started us off with a Sancerre with strong flavors of mineral and slate. It was a remarkable pairing for a salad of hydro lettuce, blue cheese, and an onion struedel. He served a brilliant Montrachet with the cod. It was bursting with fruit flavors such as apple and banana.

He served an Italian (!) pinot noir with the bacon egg tart. By itself, I did not like the slightly vegetal wine. Yet with the dish, it transformed into something crisp, dry, and delicious. The veal breast arrived with a rich cab franc. And the dessert course arrived with a 30-year-old Pedro Ximinez - a divine nectar.

Every wine was an intelligent pairing with the flavors of Tycer's food. He described the flavors in more detail than you usually get from wine guys. For a wine pairing fan, this wine guy is easily one of Houston's best.

Genius #4: the pastry chef

I have said it before. Plinio Sandalio is Houston's best pastry chef. His dishes redefine what we think of as dessert.

For my tasting menu, Plinio created a liquid pumpkin pie with brown butter ice cream. The pumkin liquid that oozed out of the soft crust was beyond description.

For my wife, I told the waiter that she "needed" chocolate. Plinio complied with rich pieces of chocolate mixed with sweet nuts and a banana puree - a delicious combination.

We also received a plate of intensely chocolate bon bons.

Halcyon Days

We were at Textile very late. The music started to warp. First I heard the dub sounds of King Tubby. Then Sonic Youth. Then Panda Bear -- the singer from the Animal Collective. Then Wilco.

My mind started to bend. Perhaps it was the ginger/whiskey drink. Perhaps it was the remarkable food. Or maybe Plinio's chocolate. Or the glorious P-X. Or the psychedellic music. My thoughts began to swirl with a rapture of flavor, alcohol, and sound.

This certainly was not Aries -- a great restaurant that was a bit too stuffy. This was a restaurant comfortable enough with itself to take its customers on a wild ride without having to assume pretensions or justify itself.

Even for the price (one of the most expensive meals in Houston), I wondered whether this was too much genius for one night. I wondered whether this experience is better than Houston deserves, and whether it can last.

In short, Textile is one of our best restaurants. Right now, perhaps our best restaurant. It took me too long to get there. But when I finally did, I was overwhelmed.

Merry Christmas

2008-12-25T08:36:00.006-06:00

Not many gifts

It started at work. Like me, few Houston office workers received the usual gift baskets this year.

Then it happened at home. Like many Americans this year, my family negotiated treaties for no adult gifts. My wife's side of the family limited themselves to a lottery-drawn gift exchange. But even with these detailed arrangements to avoid spending, a few family members insisted on opt-out clauses.

The gifts I did receive were outstanding:

Flavored olive oils, a new sauce pot, and a bacon-chocolate bar.

My family understands me.

Merry Christmas

I leave town this afternoon. So these pages will be quiet for a few weeks.

I leave you with this scene from somewhere in Briar Grove.

See you in 2009.

-Anonymous Eater

local food at Avenue Grill

2008-12-19T10:08:00.005-06:00

For a food philosopher in Houston, one of the greatest quandries is this:

What is our local food?

All the pricey restaurants talk about local ingredients. But usually their "local" means locally grown, by small-production farmers. It rarely means indigenous ingredients. (Apart from Gulf seafood, we don't have many). And it rarely means local-style cuisine.

Does Houston even have a local cuisine? You might say that Houston's local cuisine is the diverse cuisine of its many immigrant communities.

Yet there are older food traditions here that date back to the 19th Century. As a sixth generation Texas, I should know. At family reunions and Baptists churches in rural East Texas, I have encountered local food.

This kind of food is dying out in Houston. But you can still get it at a few places. One of them is Avenue Grill.

Avenue Grill

This little steam-table cafeteria near the corner of Washington Avenue and Houston Avenue has been serving local dishes for years. It has a faithful crowd of police, traffic court employees, traffic court jurors, and the kind of lawyers who don't wear expensive suits and ties.

Yesterday, I had lunch at Avenue with two other lawyers. Let's call them "Bob" and "Jim." None of us wore expensive suits or ties.

Bob ordered chicken fried steak and gravy. Jim had beef enchilladas. I got chicken and dumplings. Avenue makes a quintessentially East Texan chicken fried steak, fried in the manner of fried chicken. The chicken and dumplings had a wonderfully gummy texture and a strong, chicken-broth flavor.

Somehow, we all ordered greens. I assume they were collard greens, but the chalk board did not specify. Greens are very local. Although cooked a little too thoroughly, they had the correct earthy, bitter flavor of good East Texas greens. My side of pinto beans also was sufficiently Texan.

Avenue serves a generous basket of yeast rolls and unsweetened cornbread. This is exactly the sort of bread I remember eating on the lawn of small churches in East Texas.

Can our local cuisine ever get respect?

I enjoy Avenue Grill. I wish Houstonians would take this sort of food more seriously.

I asked Bob and Jim why East Texas food has been relegated to cafeterias, steam tables, and cheap cafes. I wondered why no one will open a high-end restaurant that combines local produce, contemporary techniques, and traditional East Texas recipes? Bob mentioned Ouisie's Table. It dabbles in local cuisine. Yet its menu includes just as many non-Texan dishes like rare tuna, curry, veal picatta, and crepes. (Crepes? Get a rope.)

Then again, maybe this sort of food simply can't be fine cuisine. Maybe it belongs in little joints like Avenue Grill, Barbecue Inn, and This Is It.

Hollywood: capitalism and Vietnamese food

2008-12-18T07:31:00.008-06:00

The rise of Hollywood

When I returned to Houston in 1993, I noticed that Montrose was dominated by Hollywood food stores. Hollywood offered convenience food, cigars (in a humidor!), and a wide diversity of porn.

Some years ago, Hollywood opened a superstore of sorts behind Cafe Noche. The signs advertised "hair and nails", "real estate and investments", and "cafe." Wow: one stop shopping for a manicure, a bowl of pho, a new house, and maybe even a dirty magazine.

The Restaurant

Last year, Hollywood took over the old Cafe Noche building on Montrose. It advertised its food as "Vietnamese and Chinese." It put up etched glass drawings of a pirate ship and a panda bear.

I confess, I was drawn in by the quirkiness of it all. I wanted to try the food produced by this empire of cigars, porn, land, real estate, pedicures, and pho.

When I finally stopped in to Hollywood, the menu was disappointing. Although large, it listed all the ordinary dishes you find in Americanized Chinese restaurants. The Vietnamese dishes were fairly standard too -- chargrilled meats with rice, lemongrass chicken, hot pot fish, vermicelli bowls, and pho. I could not find any dish that I had not tried somewhere else.

My chargrilled pork lunch was decent. I started with a vegetable soup. It had an oddly chemical taste, not quite like vegetables. The pork was served with long-grain rice instead of the crushed rice I prefer for this dish. The fish sauce was watered down and sugared up.

But the pork had a delicious, smoky, chargrilled flavor. I have tried making this dish at home, and just can't do it. I suspect it requires a high heat. Regardless, this chargrilled pork was much better than average.

Ho Chi Minh wouldn't like it

I made a bad assumption: A business that sells everything from porn to investments to Vietnamese food does not do it to be quirky or funny. They do it to make money.

Hollywood has discovered formulas for making money. It is not going to make money in mainstream America by producing something authentic and edgy. It is only going to profit by giving people exactly what they want.

And when it comes to Vietnamese food, Americans prefer grilled meats, carbs, and lots of sugar.

So if you live near Montrose, and are not a Vietnamese food snob, Hollywood makes a pretty good version of chargrilled pork with light, sugary fish sauce. You should buy it.