Insignia

As if I didn’t have enough reasons to want to move downtown.

Jason Dady just added one more: Insignia in the Fairmont Hotel. We were fortunate enough to attend the soft opening thanks to a friend’s close eye on Dady’s Twitter feed, but I’ll keep it short and sweet since it isn’t fair to review the soft opening for two reasons:

1. It was free (except for the booze), and I turn into a sycophantic schoolgirl when there’s free food involved. I’ve even feigned interest in Air Conditioning Engineering for a full 45 minutes just for mediocre free pizza. Never again.
   
2. The soft opening was intended as a rehearsal for everyone involved. I played my part as the well-fed patron.

I felt especially legit because there was an actual, honest-to-god food critic sitting at the bar doing her thing. Check out her review here, and notice the handsome devil slouched over the table in the far right of the picture.

Anyway, I’ll certainly be going back to try it again and let you know, but since we’re on the subject I figure I’d drop this picture from a recent trip to one of Dady's other restaurants (Bin 555).

It was a very tasty foie gras (aka a force-fed duck’s liver) with a blueberry gastrique over a deconstructed blueberry muffin (aka muffin crumbs).

Le Rêve

Every cloud has a silver lining.

World War II brought us nuclear power and the jet engine. The black plague set the stage for the Renaissance. David Hasselhoff created Baywatch.

Le Rêve is closing in eight days and every table is booked solid. Swine flu is spreading across the country at ever-increasing rates. Oh – just in case you forgot – we’re struggling through one of the worst recessions in history. The clouds look ominous today.

As a public service I feel that it's my patriotic duty to illustrate my October 2nd dining experience. Although in light of the impending closure I’ll admit that my review is a bit like describing a bacon cheeseburger to an orthodox Jew – it’s really good and you can’t have it.

Le Rêve is easy to miss, as the most notable feature is an unremarkable valet podium across the street from a Greyhound station. It almost makes you feel special to know that it’s there, like it’s some sort of prohibition era speakeasy serving illicit French cuisine.


Every time I walk through the door I am struck by the tiny size of the restaurant. There are just twelve tables seated with staggered reservations to allow Chef Weissman to keep up in the diminutive kitchen. Don’t worry about lingering too long over your dinner – the table is yours for the evening. That’s a good thing, because you’re in for a 3+ hour affair.

“Affair” is a good word for it. Every time we go there are always exclamations of joy, lustful facial expressions, and anyone dieting will certainly be cheating. If the food was any better Le Rêve would be condemned by the National Organization of Women.

We ordered a four course meal with wine pairings and it was worth every penny of the ~$200 per person ($90 food / $70ish wine / $40ish tip). Don’t skimp on the wine pairings; Le Rêve’s sommelier will make it worth your dough. Not only can he select wines that make love to the paired food, he explains each glass in a way that never feels condescending or patronizing – an impressive feat for such a knowledgeable young man.

The rest of the staff follow suit, and there weren't any prepubescent college kids working the tables. Each team member performed their tasks with the logistical precision of a Navy Seal and the demeanor of a Tibetan monk. There was never any indication of the complex timing and stress inevitably occurring just a few feet away in the kitchen.

This caliber of service was leagues above anything else in San Antonio and will be sorely missed. Little touches made all the difference. A champagne toast started your meal. Tiny ottomans kept the ladies’ (or men’s, if you’re European like that) purses off the floor. A fresh napkin (either white or black – depending on the color of your pants) was placed on your lap each time you sit down. Complimentary tasting samples excited your palate between courses. And the valet placed cookies with a thank-you from the chef in your car. For three hours you felt like Megan Fox at a comic book convention.

The food makes you feel as special as the service.

Exhibit A: An Ice Cream Sandwich

If you are thinking “Big deal. I’ve had an ice cream sandwich before” then you don’t get it. This ice cream sandwich is as much a Blue Bell as a Lotus 25 is a Camaro. It’s bespoke. It’s one man’s vision, and there is no need to compromise anything because it started from scratch. My hat goes off to Colin Chapman and Andrew Weismann. These aren’t men who use axles from trucks or pie crusts from Sara Lee.

I’ve been thinking of ways to describe the food and decided that I can’t do it justice. So I won’t bore you by saying how every flavor is balanced and engaging. And I won’t say that the each bite is as memorable and thought provoking as a trip to the Guggenheim. I’ll save you from page after page of descriptive food porn because, after all, Le Rêve is closing in only eight days. And I wouldn’t want to torture you like that.

So where is the silver lining? Tables are booked, swine flu is looming, and we’re all just a bank failure away from abject poverty. But you never know – there just might be a blue-blood with a Le Rêve reservation contracting swine flu in his foreclosed home at this very moment.

Embrace your schadenfreude and enjoy a wonderful meal.

Food: 5 Cuy

Service: 5 Cuy
Ambiance: 4.5 Cuy
Value: 4.5 Cuy

Overall:

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Have you found the perfect woman? You know...the one with the smokin' hot body, a great personality and the impossible-to-get reservations for Le Reve?

Marry her. Now.

Bin 555

“It’s small.”

“How small?”

“Tiny. I mean comically tiny. So tiny that I had the urge to take a picture of it next to quarter for scale.”

“Really?! And you just popped it in your mouth?”

“I was dying to. It was just so...cute.”

“How was it?”

“It was over too quickly and made a mess. But those fleeting moments. Oh. My. God.”

“Wow. So is it true – ya know – that it’s not the size of the mini-slider that counts? Is it really ‘the way you mix the sloppy joe’?”

Absolutely – and Bin 555 knows how to mix a sloppy joe. Don’t be discouraged by the diminutive size, as it was merely an inexpensive ($4) prelude to bigger things. Oh, and get your mind out of the gutter.

Bin 555 is in Artisan’s Alley on Bitters road, creating a nice ambiance if you’re a voyeur who likes watching talented artsy-types at work. Perhaps you’re looking for a nice Bed, Bath, and Lingerie Boutique (isn’t everyone?) before you grab some dinner. Or maybe you need to buy some jewelry to set the mood first. In either event you’re covered (or uncovered, depending on what you end up buying).

I didn’t need jewelry to set the mood because I started the evening with a rockin’ tomato bisque and a bottle of chardonnay. The bottle was for the table – I swear. This place is great for relaxing with a bottle of wine, with 55 bottles for 55 dollars. Before you get too excited, I should mention that it’s $55 for each bottle, not all 55. I know…just when you think you’ve found a better deal than two buck chuck, I go and pull the rug out from under you. My apologies.

I followed up the soup with the aforementioned sloppy joe sliders, which were spectacular. The bread was a little mundane, but it was only noticeable when juxtaposed against such a splendid filling.

Now I found myself in a tight spot. I had a heavy lunch and thought I wasn’t hungry – so I figured I would keep it light and stick to an appetizer. Big mistake. Thankfully the rest of the table wasn’t so short-sighted and I had the opportunity to try some tasty pizza, a few pommes frites (delicious despite the pretentious name), and a splendid maple-syrup meatball.

I know, I know…maple syrup and meatballs sounds like an odd combo which begs the question: How was such a dish was conceived? I’m glad you asked so that I can segue into my imaginary explanation.

The chef goes on a bender and joins his buddies at IHOP for the ritualistic after-party meal. In a moment of absent mindedness after ordering a plate of spaghetti (it’s my imaginary situation – let the man order spaghetti!), he instinctively reaches for the syrup and makes a serendipitous mistake which can only be likened to the discovery of penicillin. Even in the chef’s drunken haze, he realized the promise of such a dish and made a mental note to improve upon it the following day – and a legend was born.

The result was quite tasty. The following inevitable coffee and Courvoisier (and s'mores!) led to Mr. Burns impressions and the evening was complete.

Who says engineers don’t have imaginations?

Food: 4.5 Cuy
Service: 4 Cuy
Ambiance: 4.5 Cuy
Value: 4 Cuy

Overall:

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Not sure if you’ve got enough conversation to make it past the first course? Try this place and if things go well – or especially if they don’t – you can always order a second (third?) bottle of wine until the kitchen staff kicks the two of you to the curb.

Cascabel

After years of searching, I was finally able to track down the rarest of dining establishments in San Antonio - a Mexican Restaurant.

Located at 1000 S. St Mary's this unusual and delicate beast was found tucked behind a metal gate, presumably to prevent it from unleashing flavorful tortillas on humanity.

But seriously - just type "Mexican Restaurant" into Google maps and you'll get a picture of San Antonio resembling the face of an adolescent band nerd. (And no, you can't see my freshman marching band portrait. Sequins, saxophones, and acne are not a flattering combination. Just ask Kenny G.)

Not that I would criticize San Antonio's overabundance of Mexican Restaurants - I love enchilades verdes as much as the next guy - but it makes you wonder how Cascabel sets itself apart.

I'm glad you asked.

Well, for starters, you can't order a margarita. There's a school across the street (Bonham Elementary) and it seems the legislators are afraid a 9-year-old is going to saunter across S. St Mary's and chug a Corona before recess. It's either that or, more logically, they're trying to keep drunks away from children. So it's BYOB, which means you'll be strolling past the school yard with your "forty" in a brown paper bag.

The patio has the same laid-back atmosphere as a friend's backyard, complete with a skipping CD player repeating the same note from the mariachi's trumpet. I went home with the urge to make a spanish guitar techno remix, but was saddened to discover that someone beat me to it. The ornate cast aluminum tables look nice, but they also turn the simple task of setting down your beer into a sobriety test. Although I paid for parking, I was pleasantly surprised to find that Cascabel wasn't crowded on First Friday.

Mexican restaurants tend to be judged by the quantity and quality of their food, and I was surprised to find Cascabel lacking in the former. It's odd - who's heard of a mexican restaurant with small (and by "small" I mean "appropriately sized for a normal adult") portions? It seems strange, but I enjoyed leaving the table without the post-dinner bloat that follows most of our Friday meals.

The quality was good, and the value was great (nine of us ate for less than a total of $90*). Don't let the swine flu turn you off to their pork dishes, as these guys make a mean pulled-pork torta and a spicy pork chili specialty known as the Puerco Cascabel. Nothing stuck out in my head as being a future craving, but with most dishes priced at $7 you get quite a deal.

So next time I'm in Southtown craving mexican food, I'll do the following:

1. Check my wallet to see if I can afford Azuca
   
2. Damn the current economic climate and mumble about the recession


3. Head toward Rosario's


4. Remember that Cascabel exists (Aha!)


5. Buy a 40 oz bottle of Lone Star at the convenience store


6. Enjoy a nice meal at Cascabel for a reasonable price


7. Offer alcohol to a third grader (I'm joking officer!)
   

And I suggest you do the same! um...well... minus that last part. It turns out you can go to jail for that.

Food: 3.5 Cuy

Ambiance: 3 Cuy

Service: 3.5 Cuy

Value: 4.5 Cuy

Overall:

After six dates she still won't let you get to second base? Save your money for lapdances and go dutch at Cascabel. It's good to know that some things are tasty and a good value. And who knows, she might be impressed by your new casual style and finally let you graze a boob. Whatev.

*Rich - I think I still owe you twenty bucks

The Lodge Restaurant of Castle Hills

Did you ever go to a dinner party with your parents when you were young? Perhaps one at the house of your father’s wealthy friend?

The house might have been in a nice part of town and set back from its wrought iron gate. Perhaps old oak trees peppered the grounds providing celestial lighting over the Mercedes parked nonchalantly alongside the stone edifice.

Remember?

At the age of nine these things go unappreciated. When wearing a clip-on neck tie the only question on your mind is “are there going to be any other kids there?”

The Lodge is that sort of place and, thankfully, there weren’t any kids there.

There were, however, plenty of people enjoying celebratory anniversary dinners, myself included. April 7th must be a popular day to get hitched.

In the celebratory manner of the occasion, we decided to go all out and ordered Chef Dady’s Signature Tasting Menu.

What kind of food is on this tasting menu you ask?

Well, Gayot.com categorizes it as a “contemporary” menu, which makes me think of Biga-esque fusion cuisine consisting of braised antelope gizzards. That doesn’t seem accurate, as most of the dishes are quite traditional.

The Lodge identifies itself as having a “New American menu”, which seems like a good description, although it conjures up images in my naïve head of high-end hot dogs and chicken fried steak.

Fortunately that’s not what you’ll find at the Lodge.

What you will find is a series of familiar, well executed dishes. Beef tenderloin served with carrots and yukon gold potatoes - juicy and large enough to make your palate and stomach feel equally indulged. Fortunately I had a light lunch.

The quail also had a comforting familiarity, but felt like the valedictorian of the culinary academy was turning in another A+ homework assignment. You almost expect the high quality and are left looking for the spark of unique brilliance.

I’m pleased to say that Chef Dady accomplishes this unique brilliance by taking traditional low-brow favorites and adding a twist. Ever had the S’mores at Bin 555? An excellent example that is a throwback to the days of clip-on neckties. The dish that sticks out in my head from The Lodge was the sandwich/salad/soup course which was comprised of a bite-sized grilled goat cheese sandwich, a tiny mixed green salad with candied pecans, and an excellent soup (although the name escapes me). The tiny grilled goat-cheese sandwich had enough of a twist to it to make you think “I wish I had thought of this” without being overly complex. It’s this sort of dish that my inner 9-year-old and outer 27-year-old enjoy equally.

So with its cozy romantic atmosphere (only about 3 tables in each of the bedroom-sized dining rooms), will the Lodge be taking future anniversary reservations away from my paragon of local dining?

Probably not. The service was excellent, but still miles away from a restaurant like Le Reve. Small details were missed (the hostess didn’t pull the chair out for my wife), and although the staff was pleasant and knowledgeable I still found something absent. There’s not the same sense of occasion that I got from Le Reve or Alinea. It’s hard to explain, but spectacular service can build the level of anticipation that is crucial to any lustful endeavor – especially fine dining.

The high expectations and lofty comparisons illustrate the formidable quality of The Lodge. I’ll probably head back to try the next seasonal menu – just look for the smiling guy with a mouthful of peanut butter and a cake-stained clipped-on tie.

Food: 4.5 Cuy
Service: 4 Cuy
Ambiance: 4.5 Cuy
Value: 4 Cuy

Overall:

What?? You've been with the same woman for three hundred and sixty five consecutive days? Count me surprised...I mean...well...ya know....YOU??? Take her to this place to celebrate and she just might reconsider her plan to leave you for the pool boy.

*pardon the crappy cell phone pictures. Romantic lighting = crappy pictures.

Peruvian Food

“So, is it like Mexican food?” seems to be a common question.

My reflex is to say “no”, but if there’s one thing that I learned on my recent trip to Peru is that defining a country’s food by one or two dishes or regions doesn’t do it justice. In Texas the dominance of cheese enchiladas likely isn’t representative of entrees from Mexico’s interior or coastal regions.

That’s my disclaimer. I was only in Peru for two weeks, and spent time in Cusco (touristy area) and my wife’s coastal hometown of Trujillo, so I don’t have the whole picture when it comes to Peruvian cuisine. The upside of travelling with a native is that I got to taste things that I probably wouldn’t otherwise consider. The downside is that I endured 3 days of penance on the porcelain throne for my culinary promiscuity.

But the ceviche was totally worth it.

In Trujillo they take fresh fish and shellfish and soak it in a lime-based sauce. Throw some thinly-sliced onions on the side with a few chunks of yucca and some roasted corn and you’ve got one tasty meal. Be prepared though, as every flavor in Peru punches you in the face as if to question the masculinity of your palate. The Ceviche de Conchas Negras is a prime – and delicious – example.

A ceviche lunch for two people runs about 5 to 10 bucks. That’s only if you’re a big spender. Most restaurants offer a 3 course meal known as menú (not the paper list of food) consisting of an appetizer, an entrée, a dessert and a drink for the reasonable price of $3 to $5. Waiters are all on a salary, so tipping isn’t the norm.

Drink options are as varied as the meals, ranging from Inca Kola (tastes like Big Red but looks like Mountain Dew), to Chicha Morada. If you’re in the mood for an adult beverage, I would highly recommend a Pisco Sour. This social lubricant also had the special ability to improve my Spanish on several occasions (or so I thought).

Guinea pig (cuy) is served in several different ways, but they all involve a plate of tiny claws and ribs, usually with a terrified rodent head looking back at you. This punctuates an interesting difference between Peruvians and Americans: they truly understand where their food came from.
As I ate the cuy it was impossible not to be aware that an animal was killed for my lunch - and I’m okay with that. There’s no way to mitigate it by claiming fractional ownership, or disguise it by forming it in an unnatural shape.

It’s there staring you in the face. Literally.

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Food: 1 Cuy (get it?)

Service: How's your spanish?

Ambiance: Do you like lawn furniture?

Value: Enough to make you feel like you're stealing.

Overall: Highly recommended.

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Are you planning on meeting your mail-order Peruvian bride for the first time? Drink plenty of electrolytes and be sure to try some ceviche while you're there.

Uchi

Imagine if Gisele were a filthy homeless bag lady.

She’s won the genetic lottery and probably exercises twenty hours a day, but without makeup and a miniskirt she’d just be an abnormally tall vagrant pushing a lopsided grocery cart.

It would be difficult to watch. You’d probably want to yell something like “Take a shower and get on the runway!”

Uchi evokes the same frustration.

The food was phenomenal. The head chef must be quite gifted to create dishes that combine flavors so unusual yet perfectly matched. Sautéed scallops with peaches? A tiny masterpiece.

We splurged and went with the Omakase, a ten course tasting dish for two and all ten courses were spectacular. Don’t ask me to name them all, as the pronunciation alone would have my tongue in knots, but the $200 cost that initially had me speechless was justified by the quality of the food.
Another memorable favorite was the Wagyu ribeye, which was perfectly cooked and sliced down to chop-stick friendly pieces. Each bite had a brilliant oak flavor on the outside which transitioned to a wonderfully barbaric raw beef flavor in the middle.

Ohh…and the moonfish served on a brick of frozen salt turned out to be an intriguing way to play with the temperature and salinity of the dish while dining.

I could go on.

But by now you’re probably waiting for the other shoe to drop. Why the frustration?

Two reasons – ambiance and service.

Let’s start with the ambiance. I realize that everyone wants to “Keep Austin Weird”, but if that means not knowing when formality is required then I’d rather be normal. The dress code was non-existent with patrons wearing everything from suits to t-shirts. This lack of an attire preference leads to an identity crisis for the restaurant. Is it a hip sushi bar for UT students or a posh altar of fine dining? If you have a $200 tasting menu you should request jackets and be done with it.

It seems the restaurant decided to squeeze in as many tables as possible. Our booth was too cozy for my taste so I was inadvertently playing footsie all evening (sorry Joseph!). Claustrophobia set in around the fourth course.

Now on to the service. Our waiter’s understanding of the menu was quite impressive and he had an excellent knowledge of each dish. But each course came out at random time intervals, often times stacking on top of one another. I realize that this was likely a logistical problem with the kitchen, but I expect better from a restaurant with this caliber of food. There’s nothing worse than feeling rushed when you’re savoring the flavor of delicate Trout roe.

The check had some questionable issues (one of the ten courses was billed separately), and the overall quoted price of $200 for the Omakase was actually $214.

Rounding isn’t cool.

That sounds like a bad experience, but the food alone was worth the price of admission and they got more things right than wrong.

It’s just difficult to watch a supermodel digging through a dumpster without thinking “if only”. Hopefully the owner of Uchi will see the potential and put on some lipstick.

Food: 5 Cuy
Ambiance: 4 Cuy
Service: 3.5 Cuy
Value: 4 Cuy

Overall:
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Are you dating an Austinite who believes that food shouldn’t be cooked above 115°F? You can bring her here if you’d like, but honestly I’d dump the pretentious girl and find someone who would appreciate the splendid food. Preferably someone with patience.

*By now you've probably noticed that the pictures don't match the text very well and seem to be of low quality. I took a picture of each course, but the lighting was very dim and many of the pictures look like an unrecognizable blob on a plate. So I used the ones that still look like food.

Brasserie Pavil

Imagine for a second that Grand Central Station was dropped in the middle of Paris in 1907. Not literally, as it would crush thousands of Parisians and cause immense damage to New York’s transit system. I mean figuratively…

Are you picturing it?

The men are wearing sleeve garters and enormous decorative clocks are used equally for their form and function. The space is open and light subtly emanates from every surface.

Still with me?

Now shrink the scale so it fits in a suburban development and imagine everything is cleaner and crisper than the technology of 1907 would allow. Now you’ve got my take on Brasserie Pavil.

While waiting at the bar for the rest of the party, I found myself amused with the uniforms of the bar staff. I was particularly baffled by an elastic strap connecting the bartender’s upper shirt sleeve to ….his lower shirt sleeve. Very odd. I’ll buy a drink for anyone who can properly name this peculiar accessory.

The bartender was very professional, making polite sage comments much the way you would expect from an old western saloon. Not to be completely anachronistic, he also reminded us of their regular happy hour and extended evening hours. We are still in suburbia after all.

As the rest of our group arrived, we started with Gruyere Fondue as an appetizer for the table. The cheese was strong but after the initial shock I found it to be interesting and tasty. The bread was intentionally a bit stale (I suppose to keep it from getting soggy as it was dipped in the cheese) and it sat heavily in my stomach after just a couple of cheesy skewers.

Both Mey and I went for the Friday dinner special of Bouillabaisse – a fish stew with lobster, mussels and scallops. My mouth drips with saliva just from typing the ingredients. It also looked great, but the flavor didn’t quite live up to the hype. The stew itself was salty and incorporated the fish’s flavor, but was overall a forgettable liquid. The mussels and scallops were okay (a tad overdone), but the sauce didn’t bring the flavor alive as it should. What resulted was more of a collection of mildly overcooked crustaceans obscured by broth.

A word on the service - top notch. That’s two words, but you get the idea. I was impressed, especially for a restaurant of this size. Making a reservation on Friday afternoon was not a problem and was warmly received. The bartender was polite, prompt and friendly. The waitress knew the menu and was able to make knowledgeable suggestions. The only misstep occurred when she walked off with half a glass of my chardonnay thereby giving me a facial expression generally reserved for children who recently discovered Santa’s identity. Thankfully she returned and apologized so I could continue to get my drink on.

We ordered an expensive appetizer ($20 fondue), but the total damage was higher than I would’ve liked. Despite the excellent service, a bill of $120 will likely keep Brasserie Pavil out of our regular rotation.

The following day the hostess called to ensure that we had a good evening and to wish us an expeditious return.

She must think I’m sexy.

Either that or it pays to take pictures of your food.

Food: 3
Ambiance: 3.5
Service: 4.5
Value: 2.5

Overall:

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Is her closet full of muted earth tones of brown, black, and white? Does she own an antique mirror and look at passionate people with envious disdain? Bring her here.
Then buy her a red dress. Everyone should have a red dress.

Mela Indian Bar and Grill

If you like a chef’s food then it makes sense that you have the same taste, right? I really like the food prepared by Andrew Weisman at Le Rêve, therefore it would make sense that he (like me) enjoys the following things:

• Skyscrapers
• Convertible Sports Cars
• Caribbean Beaches
• NPR
• The look on a child’s face when they lose the National Spelling Bee

Perhaps there is a flaw in my logic, but it’s what led me to try Mela Indian Bar & Grill after reading about it in this article.

The first thing that struck me was how nicely the interior of the building was decorated. Admittedly I wasn’t expecting much, but the light from the intricate glass chandeliers gave a soft glow to the granite bar and the sturdy wooden furniture.


While waiting for a table we chatted up the friendly bartender who offered a few suggestions of his personal favorite menu items. After we were seated our table started with an assortment of appetizers including the Tandoori Mixed Grill (as recommended), the Mixed Appetizers for Two, and some Naan. These were a good source of variety as most were great and none were bad. I probably wouldn’t go for the Mixed Grill again unless you were planning on splitting it with 4 people, as it is larger than many entrees on the menu (and equally as expensive).


One thing that’s worth noting – the portion sizes seem deceptively small on first inspection, but there was always more than enough food to fill you up. This was especially true for my main course of Tandoori Shrimp. The waiter took tedious care to ensure that I knew the shrimp were not served with a sauce. The exchange went about like this:

Me: I’d like the Tandoori Shrimp
Waiter: That’s served without any sauce – is that alright?
Me: That’s fine.
Waiter: Are you sure that you would like it without sauce?
Me: Is it a good dish?
Waiter: It doesn’t come with sauce.
Me: Ok.

I’m paraphrasing a bit, but I couldn’t quite tell if he was trying to steer me away from the shrimp or if it was simple miscommunication. The shrimp was ok, and everyone else at the table had the Chicken Tikka Masala which was served in a bowl with plenty of sauce.

Overall I would say the food was on par or slightly better than India Palace. That’s the problem. The bill was roughly three times what we would pay at India Palace, and while the ambiance was quieter and more extravagant I think I will rarely find myself craving Indian food in a formal setting. Maybe that’s just me.

As I left the restaurant I found myself questioning my theorem. Is it possible that I can like a chef’s food but not share the same taste in other areas? Maybe the big boss from Le Rêve loves SUVs, hates public radio, and dislikes tall buildings.

We’ll never know for sure, but I’ll choose to believe that Andrew Weisman still chuckles while watching a twelve-year-old misspell “prosopopoeia”.



Food: 3.5 Cuy
Ambiance: 4 Cuy
Service: 3 Cuy
Value: 3 Cuy



Overall:




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Are you dating a computer science graduate student who owns her own sari? Take her here for some upscale food from the motherland.

SoGo

Do you remember when the economy was good? Way back in the day (circa 2006) a restaurant called Eclipse Café opened on the corner of Northwest Military and Huebner road. Times were good and this brightly-lit café was an ideal getaway for Shavano Park housewives to “lunch”. The food was fair, but a little pricey for what it was. Since then three dozen banks have failed, the housewives lost some home equity and the space is now used by this place.

Now Eclipse Café has moved to the Stone Oak area under the new name SoGo and has fired the waitstaff in the conversion to a deli-style counter. What’s that you say? SoGo has no relation to Eclipse Café? Surely it must have at least the same busboy as Eclipse…but they don’t. One of the chefs is a high school friend of mine, and he hadn’t even heard of Eclipse.

There are a few touches that differentiate the two. For example, SoGo is aimed more at the Stone-Oaker on the go, including meatloaf and pastrami by the pound and several side dishes.

I ordered some Red Snapper served over risotto with cooked spinach. The fish was covered with a very nice cream sauce and it all combined very well, with the minor criticism of slightly over-salty spinach. Mey’s strawberry salad was decent (the orange bread was squishy and unusual, but in a good way), and I’ll admit that my sweet tooth stole most of her carrot cake.

We sat at the window against a bar in contemporary barstools while facing a massive church, but not because the atmosphere is something to be avoided. The chef told me that they were shooting for a “contemporary general-store feel” which just about covers it. I really dig the furniture, with the dining area looking like a page in a West Elm catalog.

I must say that I regret ordering one of the pricier items on the blackboard. Not that it wasn’t good, but for that kind of coin the lunchtime competition includes seated restaurants like Tre Trattoria. We coughed up about half a Benjamin for lunch including a glass of chardonnay, coffee and a slice of cake. Stick to the sandwiches and you can get out for closer to half that amount.

The couple sitting to my right ordered a pair of spectacular sandwiches, leaving me with something to try for next time. I suspect the sandwiches are SoGo’s forte, so I’ll be back for more.

Service: N/A (Deli Counter)

Ambiance: 4 Cuy

Food: 3.5 Cuy
Value: 3 Cuy

Overall:

Is your date so ugly that you don't want to be seen in public? Get some takeout from this place and take it back to your bachelor pad. I really hope (for your sake) that she has a good personality....

Turquoise Grill

Turquoise Grill seems like an odd name for a restaurant. My mind (and google) immediately conjures up an image like this:

Thankfully their website gives a better explanation: “Turquoise comes from Old French for Turkish”. I learned something new today.

If you are a sandal-wearing, world music lover who boasts about not owning a television then you likely already know what Turkish food is.

Perhaps you are well-traveled Italian and have already encountered Anatolian cuisine in your pursuit for a better trade route to China.

I’m neither of those guys, so it was new to me.

As we walk into the dining room the sitar is pumping over the speakers loudly enough to make me think that I forgot to pay a cover charge. It turns out the reason for the loud, rhythmic tune was that Turquoise Grill brings in a belly dancer to perform on Friday evenings.

It was an odd thing to watch. On one hand it was a brilliant technical display with intricate motions seemingly impossible to anyone with a normal human skeleton. Truly fascinating. On the other hand I was acutely aware that I was essentially watching a scantily clad exotic dancer while sitting next to my wife. Awkward….

A couple of songs later and the show was over, allowing us to carry on a conversation without shouting. The bread was a great start to the meal and when the waitress came by to get our drink order, I felt daring enough to try something called Ayran. The description listed on the menu said “cold yogurt drink” which was brutally accurate. Imagine throwing half a pound of plain yogurt in a blender along with a tiny drop of milk to liquefy the mixture. Every time I took a sip the yogurt would leave a ring of residue around the glass like an old oak tree showing its age. There were many shallow rings on my goblet before I switched to water.* I can’t say that it wasn’t interesting, since it did complement the flavors of the food surprisingly well.

Which isn’t to say the food was bad at all. Quite the contrary. Mey ordered the Doner Kebab and I went with the Lamb Shank a la Turca which were both very good. My dish looked spectacular with the blunt-looking lamb covered with the delicate flavor of an eggplant. If you look back to my review of Shiraz, you’ll find that I ordered a similar entree which was done a little better – albeit at a higher price – at the Olmos Park establishment.

Mey’s dish didn’t look as spectacular, but the flavor of the slow-grilled beef and lamb was phenomenal. It tasted a bit like gyro meat, but juicier.

We sampled some rice pudding and baklava for dessert, but the main course filled me up so that I couldn’t properly appreciate the flaky pastry or the complex pudding. Both were good complements to the after-dinner reappearance of the jolly tambourine-playing owner and the belly dancer.

Ambiance: 3 Cuy (4 Cuy on Friday nights)
Service: 2.5 Cuy
Food: 4 Cuy
Value: 4 Cuy

Overall:

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Dating a down-to-earth girl who can look past the shady shopping center? Bring her here - but not on a Friday.

*But not their fault – I’m just not a fan.