Posted on June 23, 2008 at 12:28 a.m.

Food: 4/5  Vibe: 4/5  Service: 4/5  Value: 4/5  Overall: 4/5

We had each been on slightly different itineraries, so when she got back in to Dallas, it was time to re-organize. She was flying in later on a Thursday night, so I thought that I would pick up some snacks. My initial thought was to call Oishii, but excessive wait, you know. Instead I thought what about Sushi Ya? Yeah, that’s the ticket. I mean, if you do Sushi -space- Ya, it says sushi store right in the title. What we found was that all you middle priced sushi joints, yeah, that’s you Zen, hell even Oishii, have now been put on notice.

Back to Thursday night, though. I pulled on to Elm and snagged the single meter right outside the door. I presume you can park in the City Park Tower that is immediately next to the restaurant, but I felt wary about that somehow. I really can’t say why, but whatever, here I was parking my own car. No stupid valet. Hmm…this was looking up.

The restaurant is shaped like a backwards L, with the sushi bar on the short end and a long drinking bar on the right. The back wall has a gold tinted covering textured with kanji that I really cannot make out, but it looks pretty cool. I toss myself on to a seat at the bar. Strange. Either it’s a short seat, a tall counter or I shrank. There’s also a big screen TV across the bar. I wish at least one place in Dallas could do without the retarded mandatory TV, but it is on Euro 2008, so I can deal with it.

Looking around, I see the wait staff are just how I like them: Asian girls with irregular teeth and interesting tattoos. Things are looking promising.

The menu is a stain proof laminated deal. I’d call the selection acceptable if not necessarily mind blowing. The sake list is reasonable – maybe even a little thoughtful. Sure, there’s an 18 liter box of hot sake at the bar, but no sense putting Junmai Daiginjo into your sake bombs.

I order up a few items to go: spider roll, scallop hand roll, salmon and one cliché the TUNA TOWER! While the chef gets to work, I have a friendly chat with an Asian man who presumably is the owner/manager/who knows what. He offers me some rice crackers and an Asahi black while I wait.

Orders up and time to go. Back home, in the fridge and out to DFW. She and I made our exact pick up, but I wasn’t watching on the way out and went to one of the ‘non Toll Tag’ booths. Never done this before – I guess I just thought there’s a reader at all of them, sort of like on the actual tollway. Nope, $17 for an 85 second trip through the airport. There’s some number to call, but not like they’re answering.

Despite about 40 minutes fridge time, the food’s decent. I mean, the spider roll has the requisite crab, but comes with a mild oyster style sauce. The crab itself is lightly fried and still retains some meatiness.

The chop-chop also was really well done. The scallop came across despite the slightly spicy sauce. I think that they managed not to kill the thing with mayo which really helped.

Even the usually stupid tuna tower is really tasty. I appreciated that despite the take out, there were 4 kinds of roe in the package. I think it was simply a lack of imagination that I ordered this in the first place, but like high grade toilet paper, it was a pleasant surprise.

It was looking like we’d need to make an excursion.

The next night we threw together a crew for a downtown event. Six of us packed clown style in to a Saab and left the car by the federal court house. Proposed activity: ride bus thing to City Arts Festival, see what happens.

It’s hot. Really. Considering we’d recently been in cities like Minneapolis and Chicago, the sting of the heat bouncing off the cement felt like having your skin peeled off tangerine style. Perhaps it would be more concise to call Dallasites “Human Donairs”.

Oh well, we sweat and drink some Farhenugenoggin Froot Loops flavored beer while checking out some twenty dollar spoon rests. Pretty awesome. We saw some Reverend HH, but I don’t think I heard “Bales of Cocaine.”

We jumped back on the short bus for the trip back down Field, when it was time for SUSHI YA. It’s much better when you yell it: ”SUSHI YA!” It certainly seemed so at the time anyway.

We took a table across from the sushi bar and started perusing the offerings. The sushi chef basically leaned over and yelled out at us something like “HEY WAT YOU WANT?!” I was loving this place now. We start throwing back orders to him and he gets to work. Our waitress actually had a total of zero eye rolls during this process. We had several sushi pieces and a combination plate and each piece came across as fresh: hints of the sea without a back story involving the dead fish tank of a gulf coast shrimper. Nicely done. The sushi chef has some reasonable knife skills, too, as I see the flakes of each fish carefully displayed and managed for both aesthetics and easy eating.

Details work out, too. The sushi rice was excellent. It’s slightly sticky without being chunky and it well compliments each slice of sea creature. I didn’t get the feeling it was in the rice cooker on ‘reheat’ for the last couple of days.

The volcano roll wasn’t really up to par with the rest of the meal, I’ll say. The crab wasn’t really there for us and the sauce needed some work. Back for a re-write on that one.

Hell, I even go for a tempura udon. A few of you may all ready know this, so I might as well say it outright: I’m working on my Kyushu style ramen skills on a serious level and I hope later this year to study more extensively in the mountains again.

So, I’m a little hypercritical about noodles overall. However, this bowl at SUSHIYA!!! was actually pretty decent. The tempura wasn’t corn dog style like some other places I won’t mention here, but it was actually crispy outside of the soup. The broth was a mild to moderate soy style, that although not my personal favorite type, was nicely done. If you’re downtown and have been doing some moderate imbibing, this soup would be a good choice. Sure, you’d probably enjoy it sober, too.

We conclude the evening over more local politicking and general bawdy behavior and settle our tabs. Damages? About $30 a person including drinks. You could probably have a decent snack here for $20 and go home happy.

I like the place. The staff is friendly, the food’s good and the overall vibe’s pretty relaxed. I’d suggest they turn off the stupid top 40 and maybe throw on some Armin van Buuren or DJ Krush to top it off.

So, the gauntlet’s down for another season of Dallas sushi wars. I don’t put SUSHIYA at Teppo level mostly for the expansive sake and robata that SUSHIYA just isn’t at, but let’s say ZEN – you’re a prime target. She and I have been threatening to do the definitive ZEN dinner, so it looks like it’s going to have to happen before we’re back at DFW departures.

On Sushi Ya

Posted on June 3, 2008 at 2:27 p.m.

Food: 4/5  Vibe: 4/5  Service: 3/5  Value: 3/5  Overall: 4/5

Sat outside for drinks / dessert. One server refused to access the peanut butter ice creme thing, but another one betrayed her. Tarts ok. Drinks all right.

Best part is watching the Main street gong show. About midnight some girl driving a white SLK tries to U-turn to the valet stand on the south side of the street. Turn radius too big, so POW - front end right in to the sidewalk. She and her matching pneumatically D cupped friend don't bother to rectify the situation, just get out and hand the keys off. The real icing was the personalized license plate "BabyGirl." I guess daddy's not too attached to his cars.

On Charlie Palmer at the Joule

Posted on May 20, 2008 at 11:47 p.m.

Food: 4/5  Vibe: 3/5  Service: 2/5  Value: 4/5  Overall: 3/5

The question is: what to do with the belly dancer?

More on that later. This night started out with a "I don't know, what do YOU want to do conversation?" Somehow we were reminded of the Deep Ellum arts walk and passing by this place.

Speaking of which, if they still have those CTs of some guys' head up at Pawn, check them out. Fairly impressive. Also, go buy something at Hal's. Furthermore, refuse to refer to Public Trust as anything other than Art Prostitute.

On the way, we debated and chose to return a call from the event planner and the girl with too many handbags. Shockingly, they decide to join us.

We drop a few quarters in to one of the meters and dodge the sidewalk gremlins to enter under the red neon of Something Something Grill.

It's a smallish restaurant with only two tables for 6 and a bunch of randomly assorted doubles. Still, it's a warm spot and the server is friendly if a little confused.

We ask for an order of falafel and cucumber salad. The orders come promptly. The falafels are reasonably tasty morsels, but they are so uniform and exactly breaded, that I have a feeling they were not necessarily made to order.

However, the cucumber salad is a refreshing mix of gourd and yogurt that nicely balances the falafel.

So far, things are ok.

The other two arrive reasonably on time. I vowed that if she referred to one of her bags as "ELL-Vee" I was going to smack her.

Anyway, on another occasion, I was derided by a local dining mistress for denigrating the combination platter. So you know what? COMBO PLATTER - forthewin

The other two go for some other things, but since they've never committed to the club, my social phobias prevent me from tasting their plates. Luckily, everything they've ordered is also on out combination platter. Ha! Take that, well adjusted diners.

The combo plate is a massive selection of rice and a variety of kebab style meats, from spicy ground meat, lamb cube, lamb chop to chicken. Curiously, our vegetables and rice are nowhere to be found.

The sausage at Istanbul is an exercise in salt. My systolic blood pressure was up a good 10-20 mmHg after that piece. However, the lamb chop and cube were great. Within the variety of spices there's a richness to the items that makes this an easy meal to imagine coming back for.

The rice was somewhat dry, but not so much that it didn't work against some of the meats' sauces. I would have thought it would have been dressed up a little more.

The carrots and squash were prepared well; slightly crunchy without being undercooked. Too bad it was so late. Also, our extra rice never came. The drinks also seemed to take an inordinate amount of time considering water and beer don't strike me as the most complicated order we've made in the last month.

Then, the belly dancer. I'm never really sure what to do with this situation. I'll say that the music at this Istanbul is nowhere near as deafening as at Cafe Istanbul, which I think is kind of good.

I mean, I understand that this is an ancient and social dance, but let's face some facts. Here in the U.S. I don't think people really care about joining in a big party with the other tables around us. Also, we were actually in a conversation since the other two are leaving Dallas permanently in about a month or so, but now we're yelling and leaning over the table.

You can't ignore it for fear of being rude, and even if you try you get a veil on the head or something. I really don't know how I feel about the situation.

I'm also really trying not to be too base, but oh let's just say it: I'd always hoped the harem would me more Haifa Wehbe than Jenny Craig - oooh, so insensitive to the gentle details of the dance and the expression of the dancer.

Maybe some raks gothique would mix this up a little.

Well, with that over with, what were the final impressions? The food was solid overall. Tab came to about 20 a person. The service was friendly, but our server needed a little confidence.

Go back? Sure. Overall, I probably wouldn't say the dishes really popped like they did at Afghan Grill, but realistically, I probably won't be driving out there on a whim. However, you won't have to deal with the Park Cities situation like at Cafe Istanbul.

Yes, go eat here.

On Istanbul Grill

Posted on May 16, 2008 at 12:51 a.m.

Food: 1/5  Vibe: 3/5  Service: 1/5  Value: 2/5  Overall: 2/5

I am..........Rick Yost.....and I am dead.

Clearly, something happened to me. I can't be sure what, but it must have been quick. Maybe like a runaway bus on Elm Street or some bum shanked me in the neck, but it's clearly over.

Oh, Satan, you are truly the master of depravity for sending me to this place! Not only do I have little horns that look like they were put on with MS paint, but I have been sentenced to this no-smoking, no-meat, no-booze, no-fun, p-p-p-p-lace for eternity!!!! NOOOOOO!!!!!

Well, since I am here, I suppose I'll take a seat and make the best of it. I share a booth with two young ladies, which doesn't seem too bad, except that one of them starts talking about how ants are taking over North America. Damn kids these days with their eye-balls-pods and lace-up sneakers - can't understand a blasted word they're saying.

Like this server guy, who just WON'T SHUT UP!!! I get it, something about how all the drinks are self serve and the sodas are all vegan and go get it and godDAMNIT why can't I just read the menu all ready??!! Oh, yeah, because I'm in Hades.

The menu is retro-kitsch kill me now with cutesy abbreviated names for food like San'ich. I suppose in this lumberjack shirt wearing Earnest and Jullo Gallo Zinfandel drinking eternal damnation I shouldn't expect otherwise. The last page is a lesson in all the grains and legumes and other plants who gave their lives so we can 'eat.'

We order up some hummus which is served with a tortilla and some out of a vegetarian bag chips. It's not too bad overall as far as snacks go. I mean, I am starving. Must have been that long trip over the river Styx.

Since the chips are a little salty, I decide to serve myself a nice root beer. However, my vegan root beer comes out at about 90% foam. Oh, dark lord, you are a sly one. As a matter of fact, I spend about 3 minutes here trying to find a vegan soda that isn't all froth, but no luck.

Our dishes arrive. I have a jerk sanich or whatever it's called with a side of potato salad. The side is a mini scoop of mustard style salad. It's not bad overall. The sammix isn't really aesthetically pleasing in that it kind of looks like road kill, what with the dark color and tire tread mayo on top.

I figure why not and add some nutritional yeast to the smmacich which makes little difference. The texture of the tempeh patty is disturbing. It lays somewhere between viscous liquid and semi-solid gelatin interspersed with tripe. It's made worse with the completely soggy bread. I add some spray on soy aminos and some not hot hot sauce to try and work through my gag reflex.

One of my dining companions is now a balding man wearing a shirt emblazoned with a picture of Charlton Heston in a casket that reads "From My Cold Dead Hands" underneath it.

He is enjoying a curry noodle bowl. I decide to help myself. I mean, if you're in hell, what's a little herpes?

It's actually not too bad. The tofu and noodles are lightly flavored without being greasy. I wouldn't describe it as a hearty meal, but it's ok.

My other dining companion is now a fairy princess enjoying a plate of 'Sketty or some thing because I guess if you make SPAGHETTI out of unicorn tears or whatever you get to make up new, lazier spellings for everything. She claims that it's not bad, describing a slightly acidic tomato sauce accented with fresh pine nuts. Somehow this makes me think of juniper and hence, gin.

Oh, I remember the good old days in the land of the living. Yep, I could cruise that stupid Pegasus message thing while the threads lined up and dive in right at the last minute with some two liner about how I'm so old and how all our freedoms are being killed by a thousand tiny cuts. Ahhhh, yeah, I really ruled, except for that rat bastard Gillilands who always had to be showing me up!

I can almost appreciate that these youngsters are being radical and kool and like, from Seattle in a town that's more concerned about mall parking than a city owned convention center. Still, this just wasn't a very good meal.

Well, whatever, since I'm sentenced to eternity here, I might as well clear up my bill. It's not like anyone checked on us during the meal other than to say go to the front to pay.

Aaaannnddd......you can't. There's one check out and 11 people in line to pay. I guess it's carbon neutral to only have one register in a business here in the afterlife of the damned. It's 22 minutes until it's over.

I guess I'll see if there are any homeless people to kick around here.

Epilogue: Good thing I didn't try that 'S-kill-etti as about two and half hours after dinner the fairy princess started displaying signs of what's commonly known as oh my god my gut is exploding syndrome which is still persisting. Classic staph. I guess here in hell they need more of those "Employees wash hands..." signs.

On Spiral Diner & Bakery (Bishop Arts)

Posted on May 4, 2008 at 10:20 p.m.

Food: 4/5  Vibe: 5/5  Service: 5/5  Value: 3/5  Overall: 4/5

Title: Brunch at Mansion a High Dollar Low Key Event

Abstract: The investigators had three plates for Sunday brunch including pancakes, seafood salad, and eggs benedict along with a mimosa and two glasses of tap. Food decent. Nice patio. Attentive staff. Cost almost a hundred bucks.

Introduction: The investigators returned late the previous night from a week in Chicago. After a great deal of cold, rainy walks through the windy city, a sunny brunch seemed like the right antidote to the 'back to Dallas' blues. When shooting for brunch, the Mansion at Turtle Creek Rosewood Estates or whatever it's supposed to be called seemed like a reasonable choice.

Methods: We left the wagon with the probably complimentary valet. In the parking lot, there was a gospel group welcoming guests. The authors were impressed by all this for brunch, but apparently the vocalists were part of some private party in the hotel.

The authors took a seat just inside a large window overlooking the patio and gardens. It truly was a relaxing sight, save for some loudmouth with a purple tie who kept accosting people. The other guests were all about 9.6k years old or 22. However, overall, it was barely a third full.

All food was analyzed by the eating and tasting methods described by our group in an earlier manuscript.

Results: The seafood salad came served in a bowl packed with ice. The ocean critters were all of a nice proportion, but one of the authors* doesn't really care to eat cephalopods. Still, the cilantro and whole fresh kernels of corn gave some excellent contrast to the acidic ceviche style dressing.

The eggs benedict came in two pieces, each with an appropriately runny yolk over a finely sliced ham. The roasted potatoes were slightly salty, but not unpleasant. The dish was bisected by two steamed fresh asparagus. The asparagus was a nice complement to the hollandaise sauce. Interestingly, the stalks were skinned, perhaps for flavor and perhaps to help the octogenarian clientele chew them. Either way, shaved is fine.

The pancakes were a three stack medium. They were fluffy filling in one authors description. Alongside were three beef looking sausages. The meat was all right if not fantastic. The authors certainly didn't get the impression that it was awesome organic cows from down the street, but no real complaints.

The service was pleasant, efficient and appropriate. The experiments' particular server managed to work in some comments on the dinner items in tempting us to come back without appearing like a total shill.

Analysis: All analysis was performed using the point of sale machine versus the principle investigator's paycheck. Experiment wide significance was set at one-tailed 0.05 goblins with a Jebus-Sidek correction.

Discussion: Overall, this was a rather relaxing brunch. The setting is excellent and the service was really well done. Did the food jump off the plate and punch the investigators in the face? Well, no, not really. The dishes were certainly crafted with intelligence, but they didn't leave feeling totally knocked off their feet. Damages - before tip and including one mimosa about $80 even. Go back for dinner - sure, why not? Brunch again? Maybe for the out of towners / expense account.

Disclosures / Grant information: This paper was supported by grant number AGG6-9 from the National Center for Eating and Drinking (PI DC).

On The Rosewood Mansion on Turtle Creek

Posted on April 18, 2008 at 12:13 a.m.

Food: 3/5  Vibe: 2/5  Service: 1/5  Value: 1/5  Overall: 2/5

Why do we keep doing this to ourselves? Really, we should know better.

Anyway, it's a weekend afternoon and through some series of events we're back at K-H. This time, what the hell, here we are at Porch, why not?

For some reason the girl at the front wants my whole name.

"DC"

"ummm"

"Yes, D-E-E S-I"

"oook"

I can only imagine they then rush to the back to check your name on Dallas CAD to see what zip you live in and how much your your house was appraised for. They then tailor the service accordingly.

Since "DC" probably doesn't pop up, I imagine they saw us as "alternative couple renting in co-habitation." We got the waiter I like to call 'uncomfortably familiar.'

Admittedly, we were just looking for lunches, but of course, we're subjected to the stupid 'for the table' sides. As well known, I hate this. You and I both know that this serves to increase the total bill by jacking your entree price and adding sides that are too large for two, but too small for four. Hate it hate it hate it.

Whatever, I order the chicken parmesan, sorry "Parm." I suppose by shortening the name it makes it more casual and cool. It also means you don't have to train the staff how to pronounce Parmigiana. This dish I describe as a kind of soggy chicken slab. They may actually have left it out in the rain to achieve a texture less 'juicy' and more 'laundry.' It does come with the advertised salad. However, said salad is a sprig of gourmet bag lettuce, 4 mini tomatoes and a couple of mozzarella chips.

The pan roasted trout and squash has basically the same amount of vegetable accompanying the fish as my chicken did. It looks like it's been pounded flat, but the skin is still intact on the underside. I don't have a problem with it, but with the sauce slathering all over it, there's some dexterity to dissecting the flesh from the skin.

Both dishes came with lemon in cheese cloth - oh yeah, old school like Flavor Flav yyeaaahhhbbooyyyyeeeee!

As far as our server goes, he basically slouches around sighing a lot. Excessive eye rolling appears to be de rigueur amongst the staff. I'm not sure if he really is disaffected or if the place is so superficial that they have the staff act like they are your friends' bored brother who's forced to clean up after you.

That's it, something like $40 for lunch, and that's sharing a root beer and leaving hungry. Oh, dinner is basically the same menu, but they jack the price by a couple dollars a plate because food is more expensive when it's dark outside.

Should've seen that one coming.

On The Porch

Posted on April 17, 2008 at 11:47 p.m.

Food: 3/5  Vibe: 2/5  Service: 4/5  Value: 2/5  Overall: 2/5

I could also call this "that's you're signature dish?"

It's a bit of a strange evening. We're checked in to meet up with the girl from the DSO. Since crossing 30 would be out of the bubble, we acquiesce this time to do K-H or Uptown.

How about Taverna? Sure. Except this isn't Taverna, it's Toulouse. Oh well, whatever, here we are. There are no tables available, so we start at the bar. We order water, a Pimms cup and some champagne cocktail. The Pimms cup is pretty disappointing. I was hoping for something with a deeper cucumber flavor. Her champagne thing apparently has a splash of almond flavor. This holds no appeal for me, so I pass.

We're seated outside to the left of the entrance. There's a real yell-y table about 5 tops over. I'm not sure if we somehow acknowledge a particularly loud girl if she'd be happy in getting her attention. Somehow, though, I doubt it's going to be enough.

It's a medium wait for service from a young man with very disorganized teeth. He tells us about some vague special and some other such thing. We're starving, so we start on some day old bread.

The menu is about half food and about half wine. The booze selections are fine, I suppose. I'd call them a little overpriced, but in keeping with the neighborhood.

The food selections are nothing spectacular, and the menu is kind of annoying. The background to this is kind of personal since I barely speak a hint of Spanish, but I can murder French with the best of them. So, when the first dish on the menu is "Quiche du Jour avec Salade" and the description is "Quiche of the Day served with House Salade," essentially a direct translation, the true fakey-fake Frenchman behind this restaurant is revealed. (when did salad need an e?) I mean, what's the point in half English "Served with" and partly French "Haricots Verts"?

I keep forgetting, there is no point. I guess someone thinks it's something, but I have a feeling it wasn't parody.

So, what the hell, why not trout almondine? It's a creamy slab of white fish. The sauce smothers the fish like a wet blanket, so it's hard to describe what is going on with the fish itself. The beans are unexceptional. They didn't overcook them, so that was nice.

We also have a tuna grilled in some strange spice concoction. This log of red fish is not too bad overall. It's warm without being overdone, and the parsnip puree is rather interesting. I'd give this one a second look as there is a slight snap to the parsnip that is a nice touch even though it is a bit of a stretch to call this a good compliment to the fish.

I didn't know what to expect with the short rib sliders, but they did come with the 'pomme frites.' According to the bid red box on the menu, the pomme frites are the signature item on the menu, so who are we to pass them up.

First of all, the short rib sliders are ok for a little sandwich. They're mildly spicy without a significant amount of smoke. It strikes me like good 'food festival' fare - mass produced and easily re-heated.

The fries...uhh...really? Seriously, McCain grade skinny fries. Kind of cold despite being heavily over fried. No specific seasoning I can see other than salt and disappointment. What a waste of time and billing.

Dessert? No, skinny girls!

In the end, what to think? I don't know what this has to do with Toulouse other than the weak Francais on des menus. It seems to be a good place to talk REALLY LOUD so other people can SEE HOW LOUD YOU ARE. The food I would describe as hit or miss.

Mixed feelings. Wouldn't seek it out specifically unless I had some really loudmouth guests that needed some place to spout off.

The discussion brings us around to the five year plan....

On Toulouse Cafe and Bar

Posted on February 29, 2008 at 3:05 p.m.

Food: 4/5  Vibe: 4/5  Service: 4/5  Value: 5/5  Overall: 4/5

I am Rawlins Gilliland.

Back before the internets and during the time when toilets flushed in the opposite direction, Norma Manis opened up this delightful eatery. I remember it well as it was sometime, sooner or later as I recall, that we were, as Dallasites, pondering a referendum on an edict to stop a mandated requiring the tying of onions to ones' belt. Ah, those were the times. Chicken fried steak had only recently been invented and the bridge across the aqueduct was truly a wonderous sight.

Luckily, inside Norma's little has changed. Perhaps the pictures are a little more faded and the square footage a tad altered, but it still offers a glimpse into the soul of comfort food.

It lends the question to determine where the true soul of Dallas is. Is it, as many of us have considered, in the facelift and injectables set at Porch? Perhaps instead it lives in the roast beef sandwiches at Normas.

The roast beef, not incidentally, is a rather fun dish. Like almost all of the entrees at Norma's you have a choice of three 'home cookin' style side dishes. They are both in a standard form on the menu, but also offered in daily specials, endearingly written and sometimes misspelled on several whiteboards around the establishment.

Back to the roast beef - sure, it may not be some Japanese spa bovine, but I have a feeling it came from an honest Texan cow, and when combined with a thin piece of bread and dark gravy, you'd wonder why you would want anything else.

The sides are all delicious as well. From the lumpy mashed potatoes and let me say I appreciate the lumps, real potatoes, you know and all, to the slightly sweet carrots, you cannot go wrong.

Of course, chicken fried chicken and chicken fried steak have a batter leaps beyond their nearby competetion in its' crunchy, salty yet not overbearing accompaniment to the meats.

The patrons at the restaurant cover a wide section of Dallas, from the loud lunch ladies, pseudo gang banger machos, manicured gay couples and the severely senior. Over the soft whispers of peach pie, you could execute a study in sociology without needing a refill on one of the huge iced teas.

Ah yes, the kitchen is a cacophany, no symphony, of clangs and scrapes open to the dining area. The only sweeter sounds are the wait staff asking if you would like bread, cornbread or mixing it up. If they wore short shorts and mini tops you would think they were fishing you for tips at one of those pandering establishments who flaunt their waitstaff's genitive attributes for your dollars. Instead, here, the staff have heard stories from JFK to dot com and beyond, so they endear you in their efforts to make your dining experience all it can be.

Honest food at a great price from real people. Unless you're a platinum blonde longing for a set of 34DDDs, what more could a Dallasite want?

On Norma's Cafe (Dallas)

Posted on February 29, 2008 at 1:39 a.m.

Food: 4/5  Vibe: 4/5  Service: 3/5  Value: 4/5  Overall: 4/5

I am not Donna Chen.

I went with my date to Cafe Istanbul. It was Friday. She ordered braised lamb. I had a yogurtlu kebap. They were good. We drank some Turkish beer.

There was a belly dancer and it got really loud.

On Cafe Istanbul

Posted on February 29, 2008 at 1:33 a.m.

Food: 5/5  Vibe: 3/5  Service: 4/5  Value: 5/5  Overall: 5/5

I am Donna Chen. Clearly the initials make it so. On to the review:

This one comes out of nowhere. It's a last minute event for three on a Thursday evening. Typically, I wouldn't suggest driving the tollway north of about Mockingbird. I mean if you're in an accident up there, you just might end up at "North Plano Discount Orthopedic Associates" where some cowboy tries to reconstruct your pelvis despite only having done 1 as a junior resident. Oh yes, disclaimer: North Plano Discount Orthopedic Associates is fictional, but still, one has to think about these things.

Less than a minute south of George Bush Tollway on Preston and on the west across from some kind of Spanish chicken version of Macdonalds called Pollo Crazee or something is Afghan Grill. This is exactly the kind of post-apocalyptic environment that reinforces how soon we will all bow down to our arachnid overlords.

For now, though, I am initially nervous. There's basically no one in the restaurant despite our sitting right in prime time. Yet, defying the exterior, the ochre hues are warm and inviting. The textures and textiles throughout the room work well.

In a quick scan on the menu, it would work well even with just the front, but the back adds a variety of kebob items. We basically decide we'll order everything in some form. Reading carefully you may notice a duplication in an appetizer and entree, but I suppose size is implied.

I don't know the back story to whatever crazy zoning / licensing issues lead up to this, but Afghan Grill has no booze. So, bring your own! That's what we did. As a result, the drinks were excellent! Top notch work, there.

While waiting for our dishes, I relate a story from earlier in the day when I ran into Gary Coleman. I was hanging out in the lobby of the Renaissance on Stemmons at about 7:30 in the morning, when there he comes swearing a blue streak about basically everything. He walks right past me, gets into a limo and is driven off somewhere. Maybe he was mad that he wasn't staying at the W. Alternatively, maybe he just lost at Guitar Hero vs. Emmanuel Lewis.

A ha! Our starter plates! We start out with a sampler and extra Kadu Buranee because she loves squashes. Each portion is an absolute delight. Who knows what the hell each one is called and who cares - Flolanee, Sambosi it doesn't matter when it tastes this good. Typically, I would also shy away from the sampler plate on a menu as uninspired, but both as a whole and individually this works well. The textures vary from a slight crackle in the fried pieces to the soft, aromatic yogurt sauces. The kadu is also a treat with a consistent firmness and a mild thick sauce that compliments the aroma of the flesh of pumpkin well.

We move on to the entrees and what the hell, we're in Plano, or some town, and don't feel like thinking much, so we order another sampler - kebob combination! It's truly a crazy one tonight, ladies and gentlemen.

It's freakin' great. The meats are clearly fresh off the grill, with a very mild smoky background. Besides that, between the lamb and beef, for example, there is a great range in the spice and heat of each bite. We also have a vegetable plate of more pumpkin, greens, eggplant and rice. The greens and eggplant taste...fresh. Yes, fresh. I actually said it. The greens tasted like they came out of the ground and not from a vending machine!

Looking around, we realize the reason we sound so loud is because we are basically the only ones in the restaurant save about 4 teenage girls who appear to be related to the staff. I also see the skeletons of buffet service on the opposite side of the room.

I suddenly feel a deep sadness. Here we are enjoying one of the top meals in recent memory and the restauranteurs have to stoop to 'lunch buffet?' What the hell is wrong with society? Is this place a bystander in the PeiWei-ification of food?

For dessert we have custards and ice creme. The ice creme has a dusting of pistachios and hints of cardamom. Damn that's good - the cardamom has such a distinctive flavor that it instantly brings me back to making cardamom bread as a child and cursing how hard those bastard seeds are.

The girls at the table offer us a piece of their birthday cake - it's not a menu item (which is probably for the better), but it's a gracious offer.

As we wrap this one up, I have to say this place was awesome. The food was unpretentious, yet full of flavors. You can imagine the variety of influences that the geography played out on your dishes from the sui mai style wrapper on the meat dumplings to the curry and tamarinds on the next dish. Yet this was not strained into stupid "fusion" cuisine.

What would make it better? Not much really. I suppose if you could order something out of a bottle marked "XXX" that may be to your liking. Actually a Kenyan Tusker would have complimented that meal well. Next time I'll bring my own.

AG: Move downtown. Don't change.

In no way am I Donna Chen.

On Afghan Grill