DC
Joined Feb. 15, 2007
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1 year, 6 months ago
DC's review for:
Spiral Diner & Bakery
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.
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1 year, 7 months ago
DC's review for:
The Rosewood Mansion on Turtle Creek
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).
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1 year, 7 months ago
DC's review for:
The Porch
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.
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1 year, 7 months ago
DC's review for:
Toulouse Cafe and Bar
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....
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1 year, 9 months ago
DC's review for:
Norma's Cafe
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?
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1 year, 9 months ago
DC's review for:
Cafe Istanbul
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.
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1 year, 9 months ago
DC's review for:
Afghan Grill
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.
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1 year, 9 months ago
DC's review for:
Cafe Italia (Closed)
On this occasion, we tell them, no, you come pick us up. I manage to ward them off long enough to shower and change. For some reason, I would think that they would be on Pacific Standard Time.
Regardless, they come by and we jump in for the ride. There's plenty of parking around. I appreciate this especially since the valets at Hatties still look bored. It's about 8 on a Saturday and there are plenty of tables available. We're seated next to a particularly evil looking baby. I scan the table and see they're almost done, so I don't protest.
We're seated at a four in the middle of the room where I have a view of the hall into the bathroom. The bar area on the left looks friendly if not exactly popping with activity. Yes, they do have plates of famous Texans at the entrance. It's part Norman Rockwell and part Wal Mart - perfect, really. Ok, so, Jayne Mansfield looks pretty hot - you know, for a plate.
For some reason we order up a pitcher of sangria. It's a little unusual, but it's ok since we've got someone else driving. It's really orange juice and booze in there somewhere. I feel like I should be on a spring break snowboarding trip. Of course, they have to scan your ID because we're in some kind of dry zone.
We start out with a plate of calamari. It looks like it's come from a mixed bag of culled squid because the size varies from huge tubes to tiny whole cephalopods. The marinara style sauce is all right overall. However, for some reason, our server is obsessed with taking out plate. He risks a significant forking from one of us early in the meal.
I order the pasta sofia because it promises purses of poultry, jalapeno, pesto and cilantro. We also have a pizza and some snapper en route. I guess I didn't realize others might get sucked into the pasta sofia in the past.
I'm surprised that our server brings me a salad. Somehow I missed that on the menu, but I'm all right with adding some roughage to the meal.
Unfortunately, I hate it. It's ugly. I mean, it looks like bag salad covered in dill and creme. There is also a bisected mini tomato that's been tossed on the plate in an apparent attempt to use plate as a verb. The greens are smothered in the sauce that on actually tasting has the consistency of what I imagine melted tires would have.
I'm a few bites in when the server asks if he can take the plate again. This time, I acquiesce.
On to the entrees! As far as the presentation, the snapper is wrapped in a huge slab of proscuitto and floats gently on a massive waterbed of beans. The pizza looks to be fairly reasonable on first glance. My pasta sofia looks like a small collection of wontons - kind of fun on first look!
I decide to attack one with a left handed fork attack and bisect it from top through bottom. The contents are a muddled looking lot of ingredients, but perhaps it's going to be awesome!
On my left, he tells me that he's really impressed with the fish. I'm skeptical, but I don't try it. I can't be sure that in doing so I wouldn't be violating the herpes death pact I entered in to some time ago. Social phobias can be both difficult and useful. Probably should have just stabbed the opposite end, but he seems happy.
As far as the pizza goes, it's all right. The meats are ok. I mean, they comment several times that they use Jimmy's sausage all over the menu, but it still could stand to be cut fresh. The margins of the crust are all right, but the middle is kind of wet. This isn't really the kind of texture I rate as awesome.
The pasta sofia is a betrayal. The contents look like a chicken breast, some creme cheese, peppers and cilanto got acquainted in a blender since they're a uniform consistency. It's also not spicy in the least. Personally, I think cilantro is the banana of the leafy vegetable group - add it to anything and it tastes like cilantro. Yet, somehow it's missing.
Worse yet, the pasta is dark and tough on one side of about half the 'purses'. Hmmm....using the best skills available at Scotland Yard, I deduce one of two things. Either the pasta was boiling and the water fell below the level necessary to cover the pasta or it's been reheated.
Long sigh.
Somehow, the others seem like they're fairly pleased with their dishes. I'm not sure where to go with my plate, so when my server comes by in about 2 minutes to take the plate, I let him.
We decide against dessert and move on.
Prices: about $30 a person including a glass or so of sangria.
Kind of disappointing. Return visit? It's possible, but I wouldn't necessarily seek it out as is. What do I think would make this outstanding? First of all, lose the whole Tex - fusion theme - it's confusing, contrived and overreaching for the kitchen. Reminds me of the tortilla soup at DFM and the entire idea at Fuse - lame. I would say if they want to do Tex-fusion, they should do classical Italian made with local ingredients - Texas beef, wheat for pasta made in house, chievre from Deep Ellum, local produce and give me real Italian this way - this could be outstanding.
About 11:30 that night he says "Where's my ID?" After a second, we remember.
Thanks.
Oh yes, pre-emptively, some might ask why I've been critical of a couple of the Bishop Arts restaurants so far. Well, it's because they haven't been very good. I really want them to succeed, but I'm not about to go supporting suckitude. The neighborhood's a great place and with some really good restaurants there might be hope. Stay tuned.
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1 year, 10 months ago
DC's review for:
Dallas Fish Market
It's been some time since the soft opening, so we think it's about time to give it a proper go.
We toss off the valet and park at a meter. Since we have a 7:30 reservation and I am actually very ready to eat, we're there at 7:29. Outside we're greeted by some guy who looks like Tyrone Biggums. Guess the crowd in Pegasus Square hasn't changed much.
In any case, once we're inside, I'm impressed. There are two dining areas, one darker to the left, one lighter in the middle and and a bar area to the right. Clean tile with minimalist perpendicular lines greatly appeals to my design aesthetic.
We are promptly seated and within a minute our server asks what we would like to drink and if we would care for an appetizer. Unfortunately at this time, we have yet to see the menu. After a gentle reminder, he fetches them for us and tells us about the specials including a tortilla soup and grilled mako. Oh yeah, it's sushi grade. I start to ask the guy if he means that it meets the 'uniform parasite destruction guarantee' or what, but he walks off.
The room design has an interesting echoing effect on the space. Despite sitting amongst only 20-30 people, it sounds like a huge dining room. Interesting effect.
The sommelier asks us about wine selections and fetches us a pleasant if unremarkable chardonnay. The menu is simple, single sided and smart. Risotto does double time on several dishes as do a variety off the vegetable station. I'm impressed. From the looks of the offerings, they should have an efficient kitchen ready for profit. I would say to drop the tortilla soup and the mac and cheese. These dishes clearly don't fit the rest of the menu. Local flavor? Who cares - it doesn't work.
If only we would have known to have ordered in those first 45 seconds.
Our server is back at about 5 past 8. We order a half dozen of the market clams. He's not sure the species but thinks they're from Connecticut. We also go for the crispy lobster.
At this time, I am very hungry, like irritable hungry. The wine isn't doing much except exacerbating. The other patrons appear to have food, which I also find annoying. Even some crazy looking old dude in a Zubaz wind breaker has food.
At 8:17, food! Well, it's some dessicated crusty bread and oil for dipping. The bread is uniformly terrible, but I eat it anyway for carbohydrates.
It's about another 10-15 minutes before our appetizers arrive. The oysters are all right if they would have left them alone. Instead, each one has a topping of champagne based foam. It tastes unpleasant, sort of like Miracle Whip in the plastic containers. Come to think of it, do they still sell those or did the party scene kill the market? In any sort, I feel like there is an edible petroleum product in the ingredients. Yuck.
I will say the plate and service is beautiful. The shells are spectacular against a bed of rock salt.
At this time, I would also like to break to help out Dallas kitchens when they start breaking out the "tempura." Ok, here's how you do it: lightly mix your batter, but leave it lumpy! The flour will help with the crunch! Then, when you fry it, watch it! This way, it won't turn into a corn dog! Bring it out with a strainer, don't dump it out of the basket!
Unfortunately, I didn't have time for the above tutorial before this meal, so I got a mini lobster tail wrapped in doughy deep fryer materials. Shame to waste a living thing on bad tempura, people. It's served on cold risotto, but we'll see it again.
Our entrees arrive. Again, they're beautifully presented. We've decided to go for the Columbia River sturgeon and the mako special. I'm willing to eat shark steak, but I draw the line at shark fin soup. Discussion for another time.
I have a long history with the Columbia River, from taking cutthroat trout out of the headwaters in the B.C. interior to days in the Gorge I've spent a lot of time on its' waters. In fact, '93 at the Spring Creek Fish Hatchery, I attended my first professional windsurfing contest. Sleeping in a tent at Viento State Park and sailing the Columbia made for a great summer. However, I also learned the Columbia has been one of the most polluted waterways in North America. With this in mind, I wonder where along the Columbia this fish came from.
Earlier when our server was telling us about the special, he reported the mako came with a choice of three sauces, but I didn't actually get to choose. I ask which one I got and get a blank stare in return "oil? That's the one the chef likes best."
Ok, well, the vegetables are passable for something that could have been done on a George Foreman grill. The mako is fine if a little salty and the risotto I had earlier is back, but it's had a little time in the microwave. I don't bother getting into it with them on the pandering 'sushi grade' label they tacked on to this dish since I am still almost ready to pass out from hunger.
The sturgeon presents an interesting quandry. Between its' existence as a bottom feeding opportunistic fish and its' usual long life span, it can take on a strong flavor, not totally unlike catfish. However, most of that is in the grey flesh along the bottom of the filet and if you were to stick to the white flesh, the sturgeon is an excellent fish.
So, what to do? Serve the fish with all of its' flavo (u) r or stick to the delicate parts? In my opinion, I think the darker flesh overpowers what is really an exquisite fish and say get rid of it. DFM does not agree. The steak is also covered with a pepper, sorry 'poivre' sauce that has the consistency of very fine powder. I'm reminded of a mouthful of dust at a music festival.
Since we actually have a party to join, we have to pass on dessert since it's going on 9:30.
Damages, not including wine: about $96. What??
Would we be back? Well, yes. I do like the neighborhood and the space is really spectacular. The drink list looks great and the place doesn't smell offensive. Dinner destination? Not so much.
Our dinner ends with a discussion of the sadness that ends the meal. It's a beautiful place with a great looking menu and execution that just doesn't get it. I start to think maybe I'm just jaded over the whole thing, but when I think back to some recent meals at Ouest, Teppo, and Feenie's, no I don't think that's it. Hell, I even made a killer braised shank the other day. We just have to keep looking around here.
Thankfully, the rest of the weekend was a little more successful...
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1 year, 10 months ago
DC's review for:
Trader Vic's
On this occasion, we have the architect, the nurse, and the profiler with us. Somehow a $100 certificate brought us back.
Of course we have reservations, but we're given the same 'stand around and complain' service. We step in to the bar, but end up waiting 17 minutes (time keeping by Omega). We end up actually not ordering anything at the bar because our table is ready before the bar tender cares to recognize our presence.
We have a mix of dishes.
Once again, we order the cho cho beef. Last time I wondered why I got a cooked stick of beef with fire. This time, it's raw. That's fine, but if I actually want to cook it, the wood skewer catches on fire and the beef ends up in the flame. Great. I suppose if it was metal someone might burn their face. Instead I just paid to make charcoal at my table. I am sure this is fun somehow, I just can't see it.
The appetizer plate has a few fried morsels on it. Ok, I suppose, but pretty much Chili's grade.
We've asked for tap water as well as our cocktails. Apparently this is an issue for the service staff as eye-rolling is at a maximum. The first one tells us they don't have any. The next one that passes by sharply informs us he's not a waiter. I guess I'm supposed to care who gets me the water or something.
In any case, I give the duck a second try. It's ok. The skin is crispy, but the meat is really too dry. Looks like it spent a little too long under the heat lamp. The sauce is standard fare hoisin. It's ok, but without the oily texture and flavour to balance a crunchy skin, it's a bit of a waste of duck.
She orders scallops and the architect goes for snapper. The snapper is a brick and the scallops are microscopic. She asks the server "are you embarrassed to serve this?" Maybe some of the entrees are really entrees in the French sense as in appetizers and some of the entrees are main courses in the American, but they don't tell you which is which. Stunning indifference. The seafood is fine as far as not over done or offensive but the dichotomy in size is actually funny.
Someone in the next booth is really, really drunk. "WOoooooOOO!"
I wonder how they did it since I can't get a follow up drink or a glass of water around here. Maybe they brought their own flask of rum.
Anyway, we also have a shanghai chicken, won ton soup and lobster fried rice. The chicken is pretty much Pei Wei style on some unexceptional chow mein. I figure the won tons cost on average $8 a piece, so they should be pretty damn good. The nurse, however, does not share other than to say there isn't much to it.
Lobster fried rice is actually kind of tasteless. I realize fried rice is basically fried leftovers, but I thought what the hell? I guess the kitchen thought the lobster would carry the dish. Guess what? Not so much. They needed to add some fresh garlic and onion sauteed in the pan before adding the rice, not just toss the rice in and tap on some salt; or if they did it, they needed to stop cooking it before turning it into gravel.
How the hell are those people getting so drunk??
Well, with the above dishes and 4 drinks, the tab is $212. Our server briskly hands me the bill and asks if I could clear that up "as quickly as possible." I translate this into internet restaurant lingo as GTFO. I also like to think of it as: "Tip? Think not."
Last time I recommended the place for drinks. Since I pretty much went sub Sahara style on this visit, I have to retract that one. If you go, maybe you should take your own booze.
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1 year, 10 months ago
DC's review for:
Sushi Japan
Much like Sushiyama, it's been a while, but after a recent visit, I think that it's about time to pay some respects to Sushi Japan.
Admittedly, I'm basically never there during the day, so perhaps they have some huge lunch crowd. However, every evening we've been there it's been no more than three other patrons. Sad commentary, Dallas.
The entrance has to be one of the worst ever. In the building under 24 hour fitness sits Sushi Japan. It's beside a Quiznos and some other faceless chain restaurants that are closed at night anyway. You have to go behind the 24 hour fitness elevator to see or get into SJ. Terrible.
At night, expect to find the chef watching Japanese TV on his laptop since nothing else will be going on. However, you will be warmly welcomed and have your choice of seats.
There are a variety of strange bas-relief style paintings on the wall. A couple of TVs are usually tuned to either CNN, karaoke or both.
The menu isn't stupid huge, but there's enough variety to satisfy you. Prices: excellent. Every night sake and Kirin are a dollar. No, they don't have the sake selection of some Japanese places in town, but hey, at least they aren't trying to do the 300% mark up on Momokawa like some friends of ours south of 30.
There's a long list of rolls available down to the actually hot, not pathetic, 911 roll with fresh japapenos.
Is there decent value here? Tuna sashimi runs about 8-9 dollars, but at a good sized size over 8-10 pieces. It's well prepared, presented nicely and ready in a minute.
The soft shell crabs are a crunchy bit of saltiness just right for snacking and the house salads come with a fresh snappy ginger sauce.
Of course you could order a great number of boats and combination orders but so boring.
With plenty of parking, decent hours and great prices, why is this place dead at night? I suppose if noone lives right nearby and Dallasites are in love with the puny and suspect sushi of a majority of our Japanese houses around here it will be quiet.
Shame.
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1 year, 11 months ago
DC's review for:
Grill 400 (Closed)
Long sigh... This is a convenient corner in the Bishop Arts district, with reasonable street and lot parking, no valet and a friendly staff. However, I fear for its' long term viability.
Considering the proximity and reasonable cost, we've been a few times. The staff never seem hurried nor bothered. Sometimes, though, it's hard to tell the kitchen staff apart from the wait staff. Maybe they even switch, I don't know.
The place itself is relatively comfortable. For some reason, there is a large floor to ceiling divider right inside the entrance, making it a little awkward to know where to go for service, but it's not a big deal.
The drinks and cocktail selections are reasonable. However, on one time, one of our guests ends up with a martini and a half shaker. Although not one to turn down the drink, it says more 'we don't really know what we're doing here' than it does ' have a free drink.'
The menu covers a medium amount of terrain. On the first visit, I go for an 8oz filet. It's extremely well prepared: pink, no blood, with a side of wasabi potato and fresh steamed vegetables. It's as good a steak as any place.
In a follow up visit, I try the pork noodle dish. This has to get cut from the menu. Black bean sauce is not for one of heavy hand considering the amount of garlic and salt it has. This dish is swimming in it. Fail.
She has a snapper plate, which is overall decent: the fish isn't overpowering and it's prepared well: flakes nicely, no overpowering bone. She's happy, so we survive.
Coming back, I go for the Bourbon Street pasta. It's a deepish bowl with a spicy creme sauce. It really is such in that the creme and texture take over from the spices. One of our companions goes for the meatloaf. It's a tasty dish, but it's ACME brick size. He feels ill trying to finish.
Regrettably, this seems to permeate through some of the menu. It's a grill place, but they've got a totally random menu from pasta to fakie asian dishes. The salads and a few other plates are too damn big to finish or presumably make a profit on.
Hopefully they can clean it up, refine the menu and the portions and improve.
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1 year, 11 months ago
DC's review for:
Sushi Yama
Solid old Sushi Yama. We recently took the trip out here and I realized I have never really related our food experiences at this place.
Of course, I'll have to start with the disclaimers. First, you know if I am willing to drive to somewhere close to 635 I'm probably going to like it. Secondly, my schedule is a less than predictable one. As a result, anyplace open past midnight is going to get some props.
This venue is tucked into an unassuming strip mall, right beside what appears to be a rather obnoxious bar called something like O RLYs. Other than the awning and the wooden ashtray outside there is little to distinguish it from the income tax places and other strip mall inhabitants.
There is no shortage of reading inside. The menu is extensive and large portions of it are recreated in Sharpie on large construction paper sheets on the wall. Some of it is also in Kanji, so unless you are very good with your characters, I'd suggest occasionally ordering something simply by pointing at a character you like and see what you get.
Tuesdays are dollar sushi nights, which come with a 10 piece minimum proviso and Wednesdays are the infamous bento box nights. The bento box special is a real crowd pleaser. Typically, the place is packed, the servers are grouchy and the food is not really the best they can offer.
Thinking over the visits we've had here, I would say that I am less impressed with the special nights. The sushi, even, is very good, don't get me wrong. Everything is fresh and nicely prepared. However, what sets the dishes apart here are the offerings not well done in many other Dallas Japanese restaurants.
In one of my other reviews, I lamented the lack of a decent noodle shop around. I should have qualified that by saying that there are decent bowls of ramen, udon and soba to be had at Sushi Yama, it's just that the drive from downtown is coma inducing. Transplant those dishes someplace in proximity to the nightlife and this will further add to my sleep disorders.
Other than the noodles, there are always daily specials and the odd crazy plate. I suggest you take some of your more squeamish friends and ask for a yaki plate with the shaved bonito flakes. You might think this is akin to a yakitori, however, this is more of a cross between a pancake and a pizza served with a mayo based dipping sauce. The shaved bonito flakes are think enough to move from the heat of the plate, giving it the appearance of being alive. Cool.
The crowd varies from asian families, men reading Sabra and total nerds presumably from TI. You know, the unshaven types who knit up the middle of their eyebrows trying to look eriudite despite the fact that they're playing air drums with their chopsticks much to the chagrin of their japanese hosts.
We have been there when the stars and stripes karaoke machine has been on. It's more Tara Reid than it is Scarlett Johansson quality, but perhaps I've never been in the right state for it.
Drink selection is serviceable if not stupendous. Somehow I think they're holding out on me.
Insert comfortable cliche here: old jeans, shoes, shirt and combine with simile. Conclude review...
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1 year, 11 months ago
DC's review for:
Kenichi
We decide to make it a Sunday evening event. Thanks to some unforeseen travel issues, we are free of some house guests. We call on our comrades from the Teppo mission to join us on the attack on Kenichi. Admittedly, the last time we attempted this, there was no environmental control and no sake. As such, it was aborted early. This time, they were a little better prepared. 8:15 reservations. Arriving essentially exactly on time, we still got the have a seat at the bar routine. I describe the hostess as “cranky looking philipina.” The restaurant is divided into roughly three sections. On the main floor the entry is bar style with the obligatory big screens and a variety of low tables. The rear of the room is the dining space and behind a screen of grass you can find the sushi bar. Upstairs is more bar situation. I’m a little nervous considering the back stage the actual sushi and chef has in comparison to, well, everything else in the place, but for Victory, it’s about what I would expect.
Once we’re seated, out frosty tipped server offers us the obligatory edemame option – well, you can forget that, bean boy! HA! Not happening. The sake menu is extensive varying in all decent grades and choices. In some ways I might think it is almost too much. If you weren’t familiar, there’s no where to start. We go for a Dragon Slayer and Drunken Heart. Why not the Divine Droplets, you say? Well, they have it, but just the previous night we had Hawk in the Heavens, White Deer and Divine Droplets, so I’m interested in the mid – range on this particular evening. She takes a glass, I ask for the masu. The glass is fine, but the masu is debatable. I think I fall into most modern sake fans who appreciate the woodwork of the cup, but unless it is lacquered, the wood can leech into the sake after a couple of minutes. As such, I would expect at least the option to have the masu packed with ice and the glass cradled in there. Unfortunately, it’s not the case tonight and I get it in unpacked wood. Since we’re dining with the same pair that we have our no herpes death pact with we are starting with the hot rock plate. The chef’s choice platter has three each of beef, sh!ttake, scallop and tuna, undoubedtly all kobe style, even the mushroom. The server starts by basically cooking one of each. I try to tell him to get lost since if we’re going to cook it ourselves we’re actually going to cook it ourselves, but he’s gone. Each piece is excellent, especially the tuna. However, there is no utensil for cooking, nor applying the spices, so your chopsticks are covered in them. Also, about two thirds of the way through the dish, the rock is basically cold. We find this out as a slab of beef is just sitting there waiting against hope to be put out of its’ misery. We flag down our server who brings us another rock. This one is about twice as hot as the first and nearly burns everything. I half expected at least another slab or two of beef since we basically ruined one in the half cooking ordeal. No such luck. Also, with the second bastardly hot rock, our table is heavily smoked, Korean barbeque style.
Next up we go for a couple of rolls. One rainbow as the standard and one bonsai for the house specialty. Either one is reasonable. The bonsai roll has a strawberry on it for extra awesomeness, I guess. There’s also what appears to be an oyster sauce style dip for the bonsai roll. However, with only one dish of it, we have to rotate it around the table.
More sake! (Glasses this time).
To follow up from this one, we move into the entrees, or at least try to. They are apparently out of the oysters and also out of the ono. This elminates half the choices from the table. On a second shot we go for scallops, venison, cod, and tuna.
In the meantime, one of the chefs surprises us with a poke platter. There are three small dishes presented in order with an excellent progression in heat and texture. This is really an excellent dish, if somewhat difficult for sharing. One of the servers stops by and I have to ask for new plates since ours have been through a few courses. Much eye rolling ensues. The scallops and tuna are presented with a variety of greens and both are very good. The tuna is just barely grey to the outside and what appears to be a ponzu base is a nice balance to slight saltiness of the fish. I would say both of these were good.
The cod itself is nicely done. It flakes with just a nudge. However, it is served on a couple of crusty tofu looking logs. I presume they are to keep it out of the sauce which is a heavy sweet moat. Probably a quarter of the sauce volume would have been fine. The venison I ordered pink, no blood. Like most game the reduced fat content means be careful vs beef. In this case, it’s borderline. Certainly it’s on the over done side, with the sauce carefully covering some of the more well done slices. However, it hasn’t completely killed the slight bitterness of the wild side of the meat. Overall, good.
At about this time, our server tells us that he has to leave us to go set up his equipment to start as the DJ upstairs. Well, excuse us, Mark Farina. He hands us off to someone else who tells us the kitchen will be closing, something something, I think in internet lingo this is called GTFO. The front and upstairs is filling up with the sorts of people who wear brand new Yankees baseball caps jauntily sideways. Somehow, I don’t think that they are all tragically ironic. Yes, it smells like douche and as the curtain is drawn on the sushi chefs, the true nature of Kenichi is revealed. Damages? About 60-75 a person including drinks. So, we conclude the meal and bid goodnight to our friends until the New Year. And now, the tale of the battle. Clearly, this one is going to be a Kenichi Teppo showdown for supremacy. Let’s break it down: Round one: sake: Kenichi undoubtedly has a larger menu. However, I wouldn’t say the quality varied much. Presentation and price, edge to Teppo. Round one: Teppo Round two: menu variety: Kenichi certainly has a greater entrée selection, but the actual sushi selections, robata items and plate size don’t compare. Round two: Teppo Round three: service. Ouch – this one almost put Kenichi down for the count. The mediocre interest our server had for us, including the ongoing issue with the dirty plates and not being able to finish the service because he had to tune the stereo to XM 857, would have been about what I expect from Victory. However, when compared with the updated actually friendly (if at least appearing) service we had at Teppo, Kenichi is bleeding badly above the eye in this one and the fight doctor might have to stop the match.
Round four: price and after effects. We spent basically exactly the same amount on these two dinners. More food and more drinks means more happy. We got this at Teppo. We left Kenichi feeling like we were stupid for going there to eat instead of just having a single roll and 4 $13 dollar sake-tinis – yeowch. It was decided on the street outside Kenichi got K-O to the D in this one.
It’s not a terrible choice, but it’s not quite enough for the crown.
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2 years ago
DC's review for:
Teppo Yakitori and Sushi Bar
I hate Cowboy Cab. I hate Yellow Cab. I hate all their ilk. As you know, taking in a few drinks is all part of the night. We're shooting for 8 at Teppo. Call the cab 7:15 "Be there in 5 to 10." Liars. Hell, even when they do come the assorted rip off fees (also known as 'I'm lost') are enough to trigger the violent rage. We've got some history in that my partner was almost killed by a drunk driver a few years ago and have lived while accustomed to decent cab service. Dallas: you lose in this category.
7:40, 7:50, 8. Screw it. We get in the car and 10 minutes later we're looking for parking in lower Greenville. We slide into a stall behind Teppo and the attendant tells us we can leave the car for the night should need be.
We're meeting another couple of the interesting variety. She apparently turned her back on total nerd fame after voicing some character in World of Warcraft. This I think sounds more like it.
They don't take reservations after 7, so we're waiting about 10 minutes before we're seated inside. Our server is a cute, some would say bubbly young asian woman without cringing. Those of you familiar with my work will say this introduces a significant bias into the review. However, considering the pseudoscientific stuff that gets thrown around here (hello, twin studies guy!) at least I can recognize this systematic error at the beginning of the study and try to control for it. We hear the owner is opening a soba shop at One Arts Plaza. I hope I'm not wrong in feeling a little nervous as the subtle flavors of soba may be a little understated for that scene. Well, that's for another time.
We start out with sake - yes, sake of the month. I order up a glass of minowa-mon. Shortly therafter we see sake served right: a large wooden masa packed with crushed ice cradling a decent sized cup of a good 6oz slice of delicious rice wine. It's good with extra os. It's moderately acidic, fruity and aromatic.
We see another table with whole shrimp on skewers, so we start there along with duck breast and beef yakitori. What can I say, it was a little cool outside.
We have a variety of plates as well as a container for the skewers. They're served with a spiced salt as well as a small serving of mustard. This is totally what I'm talking about. The whole shrimp are lightly salted and if you notice, they are all arranged identically. Head first it's a crunchy if mild delight. The middle sections are sweet and have a short juicy punch from the meat. The flukes on the end finish again with some salty crunch.
The beef is fantastic. It's not necessarily the best slice of beef I've ever seen, but it's sliced thinly and cooked perfectly so that the meat is enhanced by the smoke and garlic.
The duck breast has a small slab of skin on each piece. The skin is a fantastic counter to the moderately chewy meat.
So far, what I'm saying is: did anyone see that? That's yakitori - small dishes I can eat without straining to shove them past my teeth. I can pick up the piece, bite it, and even wave it around as a prop for a humorous anecdote about a door I once found in a dumpster.
Next: octopus carpaccio. It's not too bad. Pretty much standard carpaccio: thinly sliced meat and ponzu. I mean, it's nice that they actually cut out the suckers so you can pop them into your mouth for a little zing, but I was kind of hoping it was still going to be moving. Maybe there is some kind of code against that sort of thing here.
We decide to move further into sushi with a rainbow roll and some red tuna sashimi. Both are excellent. The sashimi order is perhaps 6 pieces. Not much volume, but it is presented well in a deep dish on a single green and crushed ice.
By this time we've been through a bottle of Kurosawa, so we get to hear the story of our dining parter ending up as some gamer's ringtone before she left the industry.
After that, we order up a chicken leg. Why the hell not? It's basically a medium sized chicken wing. It's fine if not particularly interesting.
Back to the menu and this round we go for snapper head. The consensus is that we go for sake steamed instead of fried.
Now then, despite the amount of asian food I eat, I do have a social phobia about shared plates. I just can't handle seeing people using the business ends of their chopsticks to separate out the shumai while eating dim sum.
So, before starting on this dish, we make a four way death pact denying any history of clinical symptoms of herpes simplex virus 1 (and 2 as a side note).
As soon as the dish arrives, I use my utterly fast chopstick skills to score the eye. It's like an extremely small egg with a very hard yolk. Really, it's a treat when it's nicely prepared. There are soft, almost melting treasures of meat all over the head, making it one of the foods I can actually say is fun to eat. I turn over the jaw for one final morsel.
For some reason we decide to order a miso rice ball. We see the cook turn it on the grill very slightly and for some reason this strikes us all as rather hilarious. It's a nice snack with a crunchy outer shell and a sticky innard. The miso almost leaves it dry, perfect to wash down with the rest of the sake.
By now, it's almost time to wrap up shop and move on. We're too full to order dessert, so we start concluding.
Oh, hey, did anyone notice I wasn't complaining about the plates and utensils? That's right, I wasn't while we were there, either. When we ordered sushi, we got sushi plates and soy plates. Yakitori came with slender flatware perfect for the skewers.
I'll admit our server asked us if everything was ok about 9000 times, but who could complain? It wasn't obtrusive nor forced despite the fact that the restaurant was basically packed.
Damages? For 4 with drinks, about 60 - 70 a person. Admittedly about half of that was sake, so it wouldn't be necessary to go that far every time. Even so, there are other good, less expensive sake on the menu, too. Some of the skewers are a little expensive considering what you could buy the ingredients for.
However, as we started to move on I didn't feel like I got totally ripped off, nor did I feel like I was a burden to the server or chef.
So, with that, I declare a new favorite.
Nobu, I served you with notice after that omakase disappointment at your book signing.
Blue Fish, you had your chance with that Ahi Tower thing you insist on smashing into pulp.
Reikyu, I just don't see it happening.
Zen Sushi, I'm trying to give you every benefit of the doubt, but it was exactly one week to the day between these meals and I'm hoping you can get into training to become a contender because this round was a KO.
Oishii: you've got a good thing going there and I love you, but we're really better off as friends.
Sushi Zushi: sorry, but volume doesn't cover up your ingredients and service.
Sushi Japan: you're great for a cheap night, but we're not quite on the same level here.
Sure, there are others to be seen, but for now:
Teppo, you've got the belt. Go forth as an example for us all.
In the end, we found the car later in the weekend and as far as I can tell noone urinated on it, had their dog defecate on it, nor did anyone use it as a video tripod. Hell, it wasn't a bad night overall. Maybe one day we can get a decent ramen shop in this town.
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2 years ago
DC's review for:
Oishii
This evening starts out with some strange art show in an apartment building somewhere around Bryan street. I absolutely refuse to call this neighborhood the Upper East Side because that's stupid.
We decide it's going to be asian and now. Despite the proximity of Vietnam, Oishii wins out for the length of time since the last visit.
We're seated promptly for 6 and enthusiasitcally greeted by the sushi chef. Drinks to start!
I'm thinking I want some nigori. I am pleasantly not insulted by the staff neither telling me they don't have any nor if I want it served hot.
We start with eel, chop chop, spicy tuna, rainbow and spider rolls. Every bit is fresh and without an overpowering slob of wasabi (Sushi Zushi I'm looking at you!).
After this, a few Kirin Ichibans for the table as we're going to move into the salty realm: a) whole duck b) whole soft shell crab
Salty, crispy delicious good. Crunchy without being greasy on either dish. The crab has a fantastic hint of dried chili without seeds.
The duck is fantastic - bones, skin, absolutely just what I was looking for.
As usual, they are playing some of the best downtempo electronica in the city.
Really, if they painted the place black, put up some paintings of people crying, laquered the furniture and only turned on one in every four light bulbs, they could probably charge 4 times the current menu prices. I'm not hoping this ever happens to this place, as it's currently one of my favorites.
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2 years ago
DC's review for:
Kavala Mediterranean Grill
Somehow this turned into Bizarro Kavala night. Much like the last episode, the evening started with drinks at the Belmont just with a different cast. Then, after a game of "I don't know, where do you want to go" that was settled with a PRS tournament we decided on Kavala.
Called ahead for 6 - reportedly a table would be ready in about 20 minutes. Like Han, I had a bad feeling about that.
So, after settling our tab and heading over to the restaurant we managed to sit in the supposed lounge for about 40 minutes. Overall, I would say we were about an hour from my original call. If the place was full, sure, I'll take it, but there were several 4s / 2s that could have accommodated.
Once seated outside our server took our drink orders, or rather I should say ran away for about 20 minutes when I asked if they still had any Bocage. Meanwhile we poured ourselves some water.
Later we ordered a few smallish plates to start. The thyme pie is a minisculine dish reminiscent of a snack you might think up with leftovers that turns out not too badly. Typically, I would expect this dish hot with some cucumber or yogurt dipping, but instead it's cold and alone. Too bad.
The chicken livers deliver again! Highly recommended!
Calamari, not so much. Again, I would classify this dish as cold on a scale from rigor to absolulte.
Last time, I took the gyro recommendation. This time, I take the shrimp pizza recommendation. She goes for the seafood soup. A couple others go for the gyros.
It's about 30 minutes before the main dishes arrive. We just take them and rearrange them ourselves since it seems easier than reporting to the staff who ordered what.
Well, Coal Vines doesn't have much to worry about. If lifeless dishrags are the new Dallas standard in pizza crusts, Kavala and CV have both done well. I'm not even sure at times why I am eating what I can only imagine hours before was something corrugated before being soaked.
That being said, the seafood soup was excellent. Served in a deep square bowl that belied it's volume were stacks of moderately fresh and freshly defrosted seafood in a very pleasing, aromatic broth. Really, a very well done dish.
For gyro comments, see below. At least they are consistent.
We pass on dessert as once again it's several hours on.
Would I go back? I suppose so. Do I really crave and look forward to the opportunity? Not so much. I certainly wouldn't drop in for a quick bite. Overall, a step above casual but not quite there. Keep working.
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2 years, 3 months ago
DC's review for:
Coal Vines
It's hot. We're in Uptown. I need a quick bite before getting some more work done later.
Coal Vines? Sure, why not? We walk over from Fairmount past the dreaded Old Warsaw and lead ourselves up to the entrance. One of the red + black dressed hostesses offers us a table inside or outside. Except there are no tables inside. Outside it is.
It's still pretty damn hot. The fans help and we're too hungry to move on.
Since it's a working night, not really drinking. Maybe it would have helped. We're looking for something satisfying but not too heavy. We decide on a baby spinach salad, caesar salad and a veal calzone. One tea and one coke, please.
The cola comes in a bottle. Very nice. Charge it up for the refills. We're not offered bottled water, which, of course, I appreciate.
The spinach salad is not too bad, although it is drenched with dressing. Probably they could have saved about 2/3 of it and it would have been just as good.
With the caesar, at least they could have hit it with a hammer or something so the thought that it wasn't salad in a bag would have crossed my mind. Strictly Albertson's grade.
Sitting here for a while, you'll see a pattern. The manager or owner or whomeever he is will come to greet you if you are leaving your Maserati with the valet. Ford Taurus or walk ups? Not worth the trouble.
Waiting for the calzone, I have to wonder: has noone here ever heard of sunblock? I mean, if someone's driving a hundred thousand dollar car, shouldn't a $5 investment be worthwhile in preventing some liver spots? Apparently not, as there are guys driving Bentleys wearing Citizens accompanied by the leathery and eating disordered everywhere.
The calzone is kind of like a wet slab of cardboard wrapped around some neutral veal. It's not offensive, but it basically tastes like nothing. The side dipping sauce achieves the same effect.
In all fairness, the brunch menu does look interesting, and sure, I'd try it. I also didn't really dive into their wines, so that probably would have helped. Also, our server was a very nice young woman who seemed somewhat oblivious to her surroundings.
Overall, the food was pretty terrible on this visit and the vibe made me go straight home to read an issue of both Giant Robot and Juxtapoz before getting that work done.
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2 years, 3 months ago
DC's review for:
Nobu
Why, oh why did you have to do this to me?
We realized it had been a few months since our last visit to Nobu, and with the man himself there for some book signing, what the hell. The Chinese girl wants the front seat relegating the Philipino and Japanese girls to the back. A few minutes later, the Crescent!
We drop with the valet and are promptly seated by our friendly hostess. For 8 on a Friday, it really doesn't seem too busy.
In any case, our server drops in and tells us about a special sh!sh!to (again with the stupid Pegasus News 'watch your mouth...' thing) pepper starter they're offering tonight. Naturally, it is on the menu for $8 anyway. He also speaks absolultely no Japanese. Hey, it was worth a try. We let him struggle around to try and find an accent.
We take a minute to consider our sake selections while he brings the dish. I all ready know it's going to be followed rock shrimp tempura and omakase. No point in worrying over the menu, let them do it for you, here, I think.
The peppers are an unexceptional dish, smallish peppers in a sweet, sticky sauce. Think peppercornicis without any bite. I could go either way with it.
The rock shrimp tempura is usually one of my favorite snacks - crunchy yet saucy and spicy. However, tonight, there seems to be a problem. The crunch got lost somewhere and instead of a balance of garlic, chile and citrus, it's just kind of sour...
Whatever, whatever, so let's move on.
Mixed seafood ceviche comes served in a martini glass - ask yourself cool or lazy? It's a fine ceviche, I suppose. The variety of fishes do not seem to have been steeped in citrus for too long (unlike the rock shrimp) and maintain some meatiness to them. More sake!
There are a few more patrons in the place by now. Once again, I confirm that one would never fall asleep and wake up here thinking you're in Miami. The table directly behind us looks like a family of these guys:
http://images.southparkstudios.com/me...
Next we enjoy a delightful salad dish. It's salad because it is cold, there are vegetables and sauce. I know this because of my extensive eating experience, not because the servers had time to tell us anything about it.
Now a sushi plate! Our server leaves us each with an oblong plate of nicely prepared sushi and sashimi and walks off. I mean, how about a little flourish, here? No walk through? We have to flag someone else down for soy plates. We're also running low on sake.
The sushi was great, undoubtedly, but I am still looking for the crazy. We're also kind of wondering where that sake is.
The next dish up is a white truffle miso. Now we're getting somewhere! It's a real insult to the dish to serve it with a spoon considering the size of the bowl and the fantastic fragrance of the soup. Really, this is a winner.
I think we're just getting started here, so I ask our server what's next, maybe some whole shrimp flash frozen with liquid nitrogen served over an autoclaved silver dollar, or maybe some sun dried hawaiian opa chips with some high altitude copper free yak steak medallions??
By this time, the table of the Hardly Boys has been joined by an aquaintence of the step or father of the boys. This is a rather obese, intoxicated, spilly type. I'm not saying we haven't had some sake by now, but come on.
So, for the next course --- dessert! What?!
I'm told that was the end of our omakase. I'm so disappointed that I barely remember whatever some oreo cookie thing was that I had for dessert. One of them drops the check at the table.
Regardless, we have some tea and are having a friendly chat. The drunk and slobbery behind us are getting worse. The Chinese girl in the green dress on my left dodges half a martini. The staff couldn't care less. I tell this individual to move over myself. I also offer some helpful suggestions regarding personal hygeine.
The staff come about once every thirty seconds to see if we've paid the bill yet. I think at this point, they pretty much can get the hell lost. If they were so worried about their tips, maybe we could have had some of that kind of attention while we were actually eating?!
The night is still fairly early, so we're going to catch up with a few more people and add to the party.
Damages? For myself and three small asain girls before drinks ~ $450, after ~ $600 - $700.
To top it off, the valet wants $4 to get the car.
Conclusions:
The food: flashes of brilliance, albeit brief.
The service: a notch below Furr's.
The crowd: money doesn't make you pretty, but it can get you really drunk.
The search for a new overall favorite begins....
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2 years, 5 months ago
DC's review for:
Ivy
Stage setting: Saturday evening. A group of young men and women in their late twenties and early thirties are looking for after dinner cocktails. They are speaking a mix of English and Japanese. Partly cloudy. Exterior: deserted street corner of Field and Main. Five women lead to enter building. Doorman pulls rope in front of five men.
1: "Excuse me, but we were going to go for drinks."
Doorman:"Are you on the list?"
1:"List? What list? There's noone here."
Doorman: "You need to be on the list."
2:(slightly agitated) "Those girls who just went into the place are our wives and girlfriends."
Doorman: (sarcastically, eyes rolling): "Oh, really, with you"
1:"No, really, we were following in the group with the three asian girls and"
Doorman: (interrupting) "Oh, who isn't?"
3:"Ok, listen, androgeny"
Doorman:(interrupting again)"It's going to be a whole lot easier for a group of girls to get in here instead of you guys."
1:(mildly irritated) "Considering there doesn't really seem to be a mad rush to get in here, (Gestures to empty valet stand) and we are with those girls"
Doorman:"Pretend like it's Vegas and give me your best pitch."(reads through clipboard)
4: (starts dialing on cel phone)
1: "Why are we even having this conversation?"
From stage rear, the five women exit bar.
Woman 1: (to doorman) "What the hell is your problem, eyeliner?"
Doorman: (ignores, continues to leaf through empty sheets on clipboard)
Group of men and women exit right. Doorman remains at empty bar front.
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2 years, 6 months ago
DC's review for:
State & Allen Lounge
Another pleasant spring morning, afternoon, whatever, if I don't feel like getting out of bed before 11 on a Saturday, so what?
There's parking right outside. The liquor store has temporary 15 minute parking signs outside. Whatever, not like they make the bylaws in this city.
There's a large patio and we tie up the Tosa Inu to the fence. The staff love her and she's taking up the scratches with aplomb.
It was sort of a late night, we we're sticking with waters - tap, naturally.
I start with the chicken soup. I'll have to say, it's delicious, with a salty but not overpowering start followed with a punch of cilantro and ginger and finishing with a hint of garlic. I'm into it.
I need a strange sensory stimulation. I want to order off the savory menu, but it's not until later. Instead, I order a buffalo chicken sandwich, yeah, with fries - I am out of control. She goes for the portabello sandwich.
It's really a great setting. Shade, light breeze, friendly staff and patrons. It feeds right into Dallas' New York inferiority complex!
Anyway, the fries are fine. They're dusted with coarse salt, which helps. The sandwich is pretty much breaded chicken with sweet chili sauce. I know, you're thinking, hey, it's just a buffalo chicken sandwich. Look, I wanted to have the sandwich kick my face. This sandwich stopped by, said hi and kept on going.
The portabello sandwich is disappointingly tasteless. I think portabello should be the steak of fungus, but this sandwich was about as robust as the Easter Bunny. The pesto was also tasteless and the vinagrette on the salad had no punch whatsoever.
I really wish the food had been better. I enjoyed my time watching the America's cup with good company. Realistically, we'll be back with expectations and I hope they pull it that time. See you then.
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2 years, 6 months ago
DC's review for:
The Cape (Closed)
Sunday brunch.
Why are there all those people at Wich Which or however you spell it? Yes, it's the soul-less.
It's a bright post monsoon morning. I'm sure a third of the country's worst big city infrastructure has flooded and who cares?
The place really does feel like the eastern seaboard with it's rope lines and "weathered" wood. Some teenage goths are submitting themselves to playing jazz for brunch.
With a seat outside, we overlook a white SUV that has locked their dog inside. I call the SPCA, but it leaves before they arrive. I don't really think anyone would care if they just tied pooch up to the patio, but maybe next time.
Coffee is really nice, not bitter, and served in a pleasing large cup. It's hot but not scalding.
Wood roasted chicken comes with grilled vegetables and basted and roasted potatoes. It's all really nicely prepared. The vegetables are cooked without being limp. The chicken is rather juicy without being undercooked. It's good, but it's not explosively delicious. I can't complain, but somehow I want something more.
The ahi sandwich is a great dish. A large filet is served rare on whole bread with a great pesto. For a side, greens and fruit.
I'm really actually impressed with this dish. I would probably have cooked then cut the fish so it filled the sandwich better, but still, I'm in a good place here.
It's brunch, so we pass on dessert.
$35 before tip. Not the cheapest place I've ever seen, but then again, I didn't wait for an hour to pay the same price for eggs.
We'll be back.
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2 years, 6 months ago
DC's review for:
House of Blues
Ok, so let's preface this. I'm talking about a random Friday night where she says, do you want to go to the House of Blues tonight and I say sure. We're not paying, so here we go.
We drop the car with the valet (who killed the battery on the car) $12. Seriously.
Yes, we say high to Maurice en route up to the Foundation Room. A short elevator ride later and here we are, lounge to the right, dining to the left. Briefly later, we're at our table. It's almost looking over the dining room, but still somewhat quiet.
The walls are a mix of silks and embroidery. The whole place follows an Indian theme. The patrons are moderately overweight, but surprisingly, no one is yelling nor spilling things.
We order. To start, tartar: steak since no tuna on this night, oysters, salads. The chef sends out a small cup of asparagus soup with a single bite of catfish. It's a dlightful blend of salty and cool. The tartar is a little on the salty side, but it makes up for it in substance (hello - Nobu). Oysters Rockefeller are well played, right heat great sauce.
Entrees? Filet mignon and salmon. Both - well, great. No, really. The last time I lowered myself to restuarant steak was at Bob's. I was rewarded with a huge tendinous vein of cartilage bisecting my filet. This, not so much. Exactly as ordered, pink, no blood, served on tofu fries with beans and asparagus. The salmon flakes without force, melts quickly and leaves the palate wanting more.
Desserts include another course of in house made ice creme and cookies along with an order of bread pudding. The cookie is a little hard for the dish, but not so big that it is unreasonable.
Again, it's not like we're here as "anonymous", so a higher level of service might be expected. However, this isn't the first time we've been out together, and I'll have to say that the staff were exceptionally friendly without being disingenuous snots.
Yes, afterwards we went to check out the performing space, and it's great. The floor space offers a good party space and all the seating upstairs has an excellent view. Oh yeah, no one is smoking in your face, either.
Ok, here it is.
Yeah, this whole House of Blues thing is all right. As much as I try to continue to push through every busted sidewalk, smoky, urine filled establishment in downtown, I am pretty much ready to say that going here is like driving a faster car, using a newer computer or having sex with well, whatever your favorite fantasy is. It's different and it's better and it's time to accept it.
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2 years, 6 months ago
DC's review for:
NOVE Italiano (Closed)
After the Kenichi fiasco, we decide to make a stand - for Victory! So, we wander our way north into N9NE - one of the most improbable words to type. Regardless, the AC works and I approach the hostess.
No reservations? Well, you can have a seat at the lounge or at the bar.
We take a look around and see that the tables are at about ankle level, meaning that staying here will involve eating forty dollar steaks while conversing with a table full of crotch. As well, the circular bar appears to be pretty much the worst idea ever to actually talk to anyone.
Another pass.
Over at NOVE, we're greeted by the infamous corset girls. I feel sorry for them, with their baked potato complexions and tortured physiques.
We actually get a table and almost relax.
Almost. Chet - or whatever his name is, (Duuude, who like totally like does your like highlights?) quickly breaks into our discussion to show us the cocktail menu. Sure, whatever, we go for a couple.
Then, immediately, someone else, let's call him Eugene, asks if we need help with the menu. What we really need is the menu. Maybe he is the sommelier.
Someone else, Sharon perhaps, asks us for waters. I'm a tap snob and apparently that doesn't fly. Whatever. I really am not into stupid still water and as long as anyone thinks the fecal content in some cities adds to the flavour, I'm vindicated. (Don't even start on the Royal York...)
For an opener, we order the salumi. It's actually pretty decent. There are five meats, from a fun prosciutto de Parma to a variety of breads, this is a great snack. Apparently the kitchen is not responsible for anything but the cutting, but I suppose like marrying well, if it works...
On a recommendation, I order the Sunday Gravy. Yes, it's a typical Italian dish, a penne style pasta and tomato sauce with as many red meats as you can imagine brioche, meatballs and sausage as you can imagine. The brioche may be foretelling you something, though, what with it's counterclockwise rotation and all.
Carbonara is, well, carbonara, with an exceptionally (un) healthy dollop of salt. Borat nice. It's not bad, but I'm not excited about it, especially with the shortage of tap water.
What happened to Sarah, Brad and the rest of the seating assault? It's a little difficult having the wine delivered before we're most of the way through the dish.
By now, the Vegas comparisons are ad nauseum, I know, so I'll limit my comments to the bar. What's the point in having a television in this place? It's poorly located so noone can really see it and falls completely out of place. I don't really think seeing Frinfrock rounds out the Vegas theme.
By this time, I am having the meat shakes, so I could pass on dessert. She orders the cannoli and seems reasonably pleased with the whole thing.
Damages? For two, not including wine, with a cocktail, two entrees and a split salumi, $125 before tip.
I ask, how did this happen? The food was no better than Campisi's or Porta di Roma, but it was 4 times the price. Is it to support the hostess' time at Darque? Is is for the LED wine thing? Again, I didn't feel like I fell asleep and woke up in Miami.
Well, another Friday night in the books. Will we check it all out again? Undoubtedly - probably next time on the expense account, though. Not going to be taking pictures of the food anytime soon, though. I do actually enjoy this stuff.
Until the next episode...
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2 years, 7 months ago
DC's review for:
Steel Restaurant and Lounge
As far as the "pretty" people comments go, if you wake up at Steel, you probably won't somehow think you're in Miami or New York.
Whatever. The valet guy takes his turn on the drivetrain. Of course the table isn't ready, so they shovel us into the bar.
Presumably, this is a sushi bar. Place an order of chop chop. The guy behind the bar has no idea what that is. You know, hotate? No clue. The server tries to describe it - scallop, really? It somes with some huge roe on it.
Finally wedged into a too small table. It's important to hear how important everyone else is around you apparently.
A few dishes come and go. Poke is swimming in sauce. A little gross. Lobster is nicely done with sea salt. However, the server tries to sell me on an "exotic, exclusive to Steel asian garlic spice sauce." It's sriracha.
The sea bass is really a nice dish, and it should be considering how many years it's been on the menus around town. She orders mashed instead of baked potato. No one mentions it's an extra 3 dollars until the bill comes. It's worth commenting that all that's on the 28 dollar plate is fish, potato and carrot greens.
Drinks are ok, if a little slow.
It's getting late, and our server asks us to settle up his tab. I guess there are better things to do than work. It's the fastest anyone moved all night. It's also called how to work one's self out of a decent tip.
Go, drink, wear as little as possible, and mention as frequently as possible words like margin, Benz or huge settlement and you'll be fine!
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Henry S. Miller, Jr. dies at age 95
Sorry of his passing My thoughts are with his family