Category: Houston (Page 3 of 3)

Saturday’s Breakfast, and a Great One at That

A sign for the times. (Photo by James Brock)

A sign for the times. (Photos by James Brock)

One of the pleasures of moving to a new city is that everything is just that, new. That means new people and new restaurants, and I have encountered many of both since I’ve arrived. (It seems that at least five times a day I add another restaurant to the “must-visit” list I maintain in the Notes app on my iPhone, recommendations from nearly everyone I meet.) This past Saturday I met a new friend at a new (for me) restaurant for breakfast, a place he had told me about a few weeks earlier. We were going to Gerardo’s, and I was hungry.

It’s been open since 1977, and is a family affair, father and son, and that shows in the attention paid to the food and the customers. When I arrived at 609 Patton Street, the small space’s tables were almost completely full, couples and families enjoying barbacoa and carnitas. Chris was there when I walked in the door — I was thinking a beer would go well with the food, but while one can buy beer at Gerardo’s to take away, its license does not allow one to drink it on the premises, so I opted for a Topo Chico.

Some of the best Barbacoa – if not the best – in Houston.

Some of the best Barbacoa – if not the best – in Houston.

Sweetbreads and peppers.

Sweetbreads and peppers.

Chorizo with eggs – a great way to start the day.

Chorizo with eggs – a great way to start the day.

Jose Luis Lopez and his son Gerardo are the men behind this food, and the elder Mr. Lopez has been in the kitchen processing pounds and pounds of cow heads and pork and other meats for nearly four decades. Gerardo greeted us at the table and asked what we were hungry for; a few minutes later he brought over three or four small containers of hot goodness, including chorizo and eggs, babacoa and fried tripe. And foil-wrapped warm tortillas, of course.

“I remember coming here after school when I was 6 or so and taking a nap right there, behind the counter,” Gerardo told us, pointing to the floor. “I started helping out in the kitchen a few years later, and have been here ever since.”

Chris and I began with the chorizo, and the rest of the meal was a whirlwind of flavors and spices and textures and sighs. The barbacoa, which is famous and loved – rightfully so – was moist and rich and deep in flavor. Mr. Lopez told me that he goes through on average 160 cow heads a week, and the long process of cooking them results in this amazing dish.

They come from Dallas ...

They come from Dallas …

and become some great barbacoa.

and become some great barbacoa.

I love sweetbreads, and the ones at Gerardo’s are good, cut into small pieces and sautéed along with peppers and onions. The carnitas was a highlight, coming in, in my opinion, second only to the barbacoa, and if the carnitas had been my only dish that morning I would have been more than happy.

Family, tradition, attention to product: Gerardo’s has been around since 1977 for these reasons, and I am confident that if I return there 20 years from now a Lopez will be manning the kitchen and I will sit and eat like a king.

Jose Luiz Lopez, the man of the house.

Jose Luiz Lopez, the man of the house.

Standing behind his products.

Standing behind his products.

Provisions, I Hardly Knew Ye

A fine pizza, from December 2013, when Provisions was my favorite restaurant in Houston. (Photo by James Brock)

A fine pizza, from December 2013, when Provisions was my favorite restaurant in Houston. (Photo by James Brock)

I am sad today. You see, I once had a favorite restaurant in Houston, the restaurant to which I returned many times, so often that Angela refused, at some point, to ever go with me again. I, however, loved it. I have dined there perhaps 10 or 12 times, alone and with others. I have introduced a number of people to the place and its food. I have spent an evening at its “sister” restaurant, The Pass. Indeed, I have spent more time at Provisions than at any other restaurant in Houston. And all was good, at least for a few months.

Something has happened to Provisions, my go-to restaurant. I first noticed things were amiss about two months ago, when I ordered a pizza (Mushroom-Truffle Pizza/Black Trumpet Mushrooms, $18), which at the time was my favorite pizza in Houston. This pie, however, was soggy. I picked up the first slice and it was limp. It drooped down toward my plate, and when I bit into it the usually crisp crust was wet and sticky in my mouth. I asked a cook about it, and he told me they were having problems with the oven that night, something about maintaining proper temperature. Okay, I said, good to know, because I love that pizza.

The next week I was back, at the bar at the rear of the restaurant, a great little perch that seats two guests and affords a view of the kitchen and the dining room. I ordered the duck confit pizza. And again, limp crust, from the first piece. What was going on, I thought. The oven, which is very near my seat, looks impressive, and I know it can make great pies. But two in a row?

Until this past Thursday night, I had not been back to Provisions since the second poor pizza. I will estimate that a month or so had elapsed. I made plans to have dinner with a friend, and he recommended Provisions, then our party of two grew into a group of four, all good eaters whose palates I trust. Three of us arrived at about the same time, and while we awaited the fourth we shared a bottle of a very good South African red (AA Badenhorst, “Secateurs,” Coastal Region, 2010), a shiraz. And a good value at $36.

Roasted Shishito Peppers, most of which remained uneaten. (Photo by James Brock)

Roasted Shishito Peppers, most of which remained uneaten. (Photo by James Brock)

And here is where the sadness began to set in. We also shared some roasted shishito peppers. They are described thusly on the menu: Roasted Shishito Peppers/Cotija/Cilantro/Corn/Yuzukoshu. They cost $14. I love shishito peppers, had some really good ones at Caracol recently. But the peppers that night were barely roasted, and entirely devoid of salt, which we all agreed was needed. In fact, the best component of the dish was the onions. Where was the acid? Where was the delicious char?

Our fourth, Ms. S., arrived, and we ordered. I chose the sweetbreads (Crispy Veal Sweetbreads/Pickled Root Vegetables $18), because I eat sweetbreads as often as I find them. The other dishes? Lamb Merguez Pate en Croute/Yogurt/Cashew/Citrus $16; Broccoli Strozzapreti/Fennel Sausage/Tomato/Parmesan $13/22; and Uni Fettucini/Guanciale. All, in my opinion, mediocre at best. Seriously. Let me explain.

As I wrote, I love sweetbreads. But this dish, with one medium-sized sweetbread on it, was not good at all. The main problem: The sweetbread was overcooked. In fact, the exterior “crisp” of the breading obliterated any taste of the delicate organ. What I put in my mouth tasted as if it could have come from the fry basket at a fast-food joint. (The pickled vegetables were fine, and I enjoyed them. But the star of the plate was a waste of a sweetbread.)

It was a sin, to waste such a beautiful organ.

It was a sin, to waste such a beautiful organ. (Photo by James Brock)

As I was making the first cut into the sweetbread, across the table one of my dining companions, Ms. B., was putting the first bite of the uni pasta into her mouth. Then this came out of her mouth: “Where is the uni?” There was absolutely no taste of the uni in the dish. All one detected, and it was not a bad taste at all, was the guanciale. She asked the waiter about the dish, and was told that the uni was used to prepare the pasta. She later said, forlornly, “I tried to pay attention to the taste of the noodles themselves, and did not get any earthy, uni ‘funk'”. We left it at that. I did not have the heart to tell her about the uni pasta I had earlier in Dallas this year at Spoon Bar & Kitchen, but here are a few photos of it. It was a very good bowl, and John Tesar has a great thing going there. I am already planning a return visit.

image 2

Spoon Bar & Kitchen's uni with trofie (Photo by Surya Bhattacharya)

Spoon Bar & Kitchen’s uni with trofie (Photos by Surya Bhattacharya)

And the Broccoli Strozzapreti? It came to the table lukewarm at best, to begin. Ms. S. told the waiter that it was not warm enough, so he took it back. Meanwhile, Mr. R. was tucking into his Merguez en Croute, and he said he liked it, adding that perhaps it was a bit too salty. I tried a bite, and concurred. I also thought that it was a bit too dry.

At about that time we ordered another bottle of the Shiraz, and when the waiter brought it to the table he opened it and proceeded to pour from the bottle into my glass, which still contained an ample amount of wine from the previous bottle. We did not bother telling him that it might have been more proper for him to have brought a clean glass to the table so that we could taste the new bottle before he poured from it. Neither did we remind him that it would have been best to serve the women first.

We did not order dessert. The uni was not finished; the strozzapreti languished in the bowl.  Ms. S.’s comment? Bland and overcooked pasta. My sweetbread was gone, as Mr. R. had taken a bite of it, agreeing with my assessment.

So, what is going on at Provisions? I don’t really have an answer. I am well aware that things can from time to time become chaotic. Even the best restaurant can, on occasion, send out a dish that is not as it should be. But two limp pizzas – after five or six perfect ones – and then a table full of mediocrity a month later? I am at a loss. And I write this as someone who has extolled the virtues of the food at Provisions, someone who has dined at The Pass and found it quite good. I am sad about the goings-on (at least as far as my past several experiences are concerned) at the restaurant that once was my favorite in Houston. And I so want to be happy again.

Roost Has Hooked Me

This is one of the best things I have put in my mouth in a long time.

This is one of the best things I have put in my mouth in a long time.

There’s a Notes list on my iPhone that grows larger daily. It’s a list of restaurants in Houston I plan to visit. Last night I crossed one off of the roster, a restaurant about which I have heard a lot, good things. It’s called Roost.

I have been looking for a restaurant here with “personality,” which in my book means, loosely, “not slick and shiny, not a place that looks as if it belongs in a hotel lobby or was designed with ‘wow’ in mind.” Too often, I have found lately, more attention is devoted to wall hangings and shiny displays than it is to the food. Roost, however, has the type of personality I want. Small space, a bar at which two people can sit, lots of wood, simple tables and chairs, eclectic decoration on the walls. It’s in a house on a fairly quiet street in a residential area of Houston, and my dinner there was one of the most enjoyable evenings I’ve spent dining in this city thus far.

I arrived a little after 6 and waited for Angela at the bar, which overlooks a small room that has a pass-through to the kitchen. A Sixpoint (in a can, a tallboy) was my order, and I sat and drank and watched the activity as diners began walking in. Roost does not take reservations for parties of fewer than six, but outside the restaurant picnic benches provide perfect seats in which to wait for your table. The chef and owner, Kevin Naderi, was out out at those tables lighting the heat lamps.

Angela arrived, and we took our seat at a table along the back wall that gave us a perfect view of the dining room, which by that time was filling quickly, mostly parties of four, with a few couples mixed in. The menu at Roost has just been changed, and I was impressed: highlights to my eye were hanger steak, mussels in a red curry, an oyster stack, an off-menu special of redfish. And the “famous” cauliflower.

An oyster stack at Roost is a good thing.

An oyster stack at Roost is a good thing.

We ordered the cauliflower, the oyster stack, an order of the mussels, and the hanger steak, with a bottle of Hahn pinot noir. In short, every dish was very good, especially the fried cauliflower, with its sauce and pignoli and onions. (It is usually served with bonito flakes, but we asked from them on the side, though I later nestled them on top of each floret.)

Hanger steak done with class.

Hanger steak done with class.

The fried oysters were breaded perfectly, and the sautéed spinach under them was a great touch. The mussels were cooked well, full of flavor, which the curry (tomato-based) complemented ideally. Hanger steak medium rare with kimchi rice (a half order) and a runny egg came to the table with aplomb: nice temperature, fine flavor, though it could have used a bit of salt at the end.

You like crisp-on-the-outside doughnuts? How about coffee ice cream and pistachios? Then get this.

You like crisp-on-the-outside doughnuts? How about coffee ice cream and pistachios? Then get this.

Finally, the beignet-like round donuts and coffee ice cream finished our meal. (And a note about the service: Some of the best I have encountered in Houston. Not obsequious, informed, calm, and each plate came out with perfect timing. We were able to enjoy the meal in a relaxed manner. Someone has conducted great training at Roost.)

A Fat Bao Evening, or, My Kind of Surf and Turf

Houston is delighting me. I have met, in my few months here thus far, some great people in the restaurant and food world, and I’ve been led by them into a diverse and exciting universe. The list in my Notes app that contains places I intend to visit is growing by the day – it now contains 67 restaurants and bars – and I look forward to discovering many more great dishes.

Speaking of which, earlier this week I walked through the doors of Fat Bao, a restaurant that more than a few people had told me I must try and which was at the top of my list. It was a cold night, and I was looking forward to the soft shell crab a colleague had raved about. She was right.

You have pork and soft shell crab. You need nothing else.

You have pork and soft shell crab. You need nothing else. I give you the Pork Katsu Bao, left, and the Crab Daddy Bao.

I waited for a few minutes in line to order my bao, and the staff was courteous and friendly, and efficient. Fat Bao stocks a great selection of beers, including Hitachino Nest, many bottles of which I enjoyed in Hong Kong and Tokyo earlier this year. The menu, written on a blackboard, is a broad one, but I was there for the soft shell crab and the pork, and that is what I chose.

I took a number and a seat, and waited for my food. A few minutes later it arrived. The buns were warm and soft, and the proteins were excellent … and accompanied by crisp cabbage and perfect, slightly spicy, sauces. Freshness, warmth, a little heat. Total satisfaction for 15 minutes.

I will return to Fat Bao, as soon as I reach the end of my list.

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