Europa

It’s 6pm on an unremarkable Tuesday. You’re on your way home from a hard day at the office when the phone rings. The husky voice on the other end demands that you bring specific items to a neutral location in ten minutes or you’ll never see your family again. The kidnapper with the muffled Eastern-European accent requests:

• 4 cans of Norwegian Cod Liver
• 2 boxes of Italian Polenta
• Polish Krupnik Soup – with mushroom and barley flavor
• Amish Cheese
• 7 links of Nuernberger Bratwurst
• 3 Italian Silk Ties
• And a Muffuletta Sandwich

What do you do?

Start writing a eulogy. There’s no way that you’ll get to Europa to snag these items in ten minutes with Stone Oak’s traffic.

But you should probably head there anyway for a comforting Prosciutto sandwich to help you mourn your loss. Chicago Bar is conveniently next door in case you feel up to finding a replacement spouse after filing the police report.

We made a precautionary trial run on Monday afternoon at Rich’s recommendation. After all - you never know when a kidnapper is going to abduct your family (highly unlikely) and request obscure European grocery items (absurdly improbable).

After walking in the front door you are immediately struck by the schizophrenic nature of this store. On one hand the dispassionately sterile, characterless edifice leads you to expect Wal-Mart shelving with neatly displayed Proctor & Gamble goods. On closer inspection you’ll find the well-organized displays are not filled with the trappings of suburbia but rather with foreign cooking items sitting awkwardly next to one another like a United Nations of pedestrian food.

I asked a pleasant Italian woman (the owner) for her suggestion. Her response:

“I’m around this stuff all day so, truthfully, I’m sick of all of them.”

Less than comforting, but I appreciate the honesty. She went on to mention that the Muffuletta was available although not shown on the menu. Mey was sold on the olive-filled Muffuletta and I went with a more conservative Serrano Ham sandwich. Some artichoke dip held us over while the cashier/hostess/chef/butcher/owner gradually attended to the two other customers on this lazy Monday.

The fruits of her labor were two flavorful sandwiches with distinctly different characters.

I would liken the muffuletta to a slender bra-less Greek woman with the self-confidence of an investment banker and a nose large enough to detect her own mildly intrusive body odor. Overwhelming yet delicious, olive dominates this sandwich and sears the salami flavor in your mind making a concoction seemingly too grandiose for a deli counter. If it hadn’t been served on mediocre bread next to a pickle spear it could easily be mistaken for more elevated cuisine.


My Serrano ham sandwich was good, but was more similar to a Volkswagen Golf than a bra-less Greek woman. Certainly not without flavor or utility, it was comprised more of well-executed familiarity and less of intriguing individuality.

As we watched the jovial Italian owner tally our diminutive $20 tab using the same cash register often seen at Southside taquerias, it made me wonder if there is room in Stone Oak for a Deli like this. Sharing a shopping center with a Wine Bar and a 24-hour childcare center paints a picture of a neighborhood more suited for a drive-thru mass-produced Quiznos (literally right across the street) than a unique offering like Europa.

I hope I’m wrong on that one.

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

Overall:
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Are you dating a shy eastern european woman who's not yet sure if you're a predator? Take her on a nice casual lunch date to this place.

I'd like to give a shout out to Rich and Caroline for turning us to this place.   He also wrote an excellent review with more pictures that can be found here.

Oloroso

I like Southtown. If property values are any indication, I’m not alone.

As a pseudo-yuppie, you would think that I would be at odds with hippie/artsy Southtown, but it’s actually a symbiotic relationship. Without these cultured artists, yuppies wouldn’t have:

• Stuff to hang on the white walls of our minimalist suburban houses


• Folksy music to listen to while driving our European cars


• Sad monochromatic cinema


• Meaningful poetry to pare down to meaningless motivational posters


• Desirable gentrified neighborhoods with character like Southtown

On the other hand, if it weren’t for yuppies, the artists wouldn’t have:

• Rent Money


• Gas Money


• Grocery Money


• Money for mind-altering pharmaceuticals

So it’s a win-win situation. It seems that out of this equation came my favorite coffee shop (Casa Chiapas) and several unique restaurants including a relatively new venture called “Oloroso”.

Oloroso boasts on its website that their menu is “structured to use seasonal produce from sustainable south and central Texas farms”.

Wow.

I almost feel bad that our table of six people valet parked four cars – three of which were built outside the US and shipped here*. Good thing I’m not a hippie; I don’t think I could squeeze my carbon footprint into a pair of woven hemp Birkenstocks.

The menu had a lot of interesting choices ranging from Scallops (locally sourced?) to Rabbit. Our waitress was very nice and capable, but the service felt like a good high school play. The motions were correct (Glasses were full, crumbs were cleared, etc), but the confidence and nuance were lacking (“I just learned how to pronounce Charcutiere!”). It was charming in its candor, but not what I expected.

I started with the “Grilled Marinated Quail with spicy Herb Salad, grilled Piquillo Peppers and Sherry Onion Relish” as an appetizer and it was good stuff. A quail egg was served on top and proved to be the most flavorful egg I’ve ever had despite its diminutive size. The quail was quite good and the gamey taste went well with the onion relish.

Next up was the “Seared Diver Scallops on top of Parsley Root Puree, roasted Kohlrabi and Wild Mushrooms finished with a Sherry Reduction and Prosciutto”. Quite a mouthful.

It looked impressive with the large scallops spaced horizontally across the oblong plate and artfully dressed with Prosciutto. The flavor was good too, but it didn’t knock my socks the way my eyes told my mouth it would. Perhaps my expectations were a little high, but after sampling Mey’s decidedly average Roasted Pork Loin, I couldn’t in good conscience give exemplary cuy marks to the food.

The Chocolate Pots du Crème (Chocolate Mousse as far as I can tell) was an excellent finish to the meal, with a rich flavor complemented by fruits and nuts. The portions were proper and had me rubbing my belly with gluttonous glee as the meal came to an end.

While waiting for the check we watched the energetic valet positioning our cars as though they were F-14 Tomcats on the flight deck. The result was an impressive sight; the four cars were stacked in formation with each driver’s door propped open as if to say “I missed you – come drive me”. A most impressive valet.

I recommend this place. The food is good, the atmosphere is pleasant, and it’ll make you feel like one of those hip art-patronizing yuppies that’s “in the know”.

Food: 4 Cuys
Ambiance: 4.5 Cuys
Service: 3.5 Cuys
Value: 3.5 Cuys

Overall:

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Dating a woman who pulls her American Express from a Prada purse to buy a Carbon Offset? If she also listens to world music from artists you've never heard of, then this might be a good place for the two of you.

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*Extra points to anyone who can guess which one of our four cars was built in the heartland of America (in my birth-state). Please post your answer in the comments section. Note that only one of these vehicles was built in a place where English is the primary language:

Honda S2000
Acura TL
Mazda RX8
Pontiac Trans-Am WS6

The Grill at Leon Springs - Sunday Brunch Buffet

Ah yes….brunch.

I’ve always thought of brunch as a culinary peculiarity capitalizing primarily on three demographics: church-goers, the elderly, and yuppie married couples. Basically, the people wearing slacks on a Sunday.

But I hold a special place in my heart for whoever made it socially acceptable to drink booze before noon on the “Lord’s day”. Remember - you’re not an alcoholic as long as it’s mixed with juice and served in a champagne glass….

As a side note, Mey giggles a bit every time she orders a Champagne and OJ cocktail. It seems that “Mimosa” is a common brand of feminine sanitary napkin in Peru.

On to the review…
After a spirited top-down drive down through the hill country in Mey’s car, we found ourselves in Leon Springs with a hankerin’ for some breakfast. We walked into a rather empty restaurant at about 11:45, ordered some cranberry juice and made our way to the buffet.

Since everyone has the attention span of a gnat these days (myself included), here’s the lowdown on The Grill via PowerPoint. Click on the drop down arrow to zoom in if you'd like. Or click on the link to go to a bigger view.

The Grill

Publish at Scribd or explore others:

I feel a little un-American saying this, but…..the portions were too big. I know, I know… I might as well confess that I think monster trucks are vulgar and that Pamela Anderson is excessively endowed. So what's the problem with large portions? I ended up feeling like an overindulgent slob for not cleaning my plate, and I didn't get to taste a bit of everything. My tastebuds are promiscuous.

I feel it was a bit overpriced. In today rough economic times, a $19/person brunch buffet should include coffee and juice. It didn’t. Total bill (including tip) came to about $60.

I suppose nobody told Chef Thierry that we’ve had two consecutive quarters of contracting GDP. I don't think he's worried as it seems he has enough coin to spring for a slick new website.

This isn't really a full review, so I'll forgo the detailed Cuy breakdown and just stick to the overall score. Drumroll please........

Overall:




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Did you just roll out of a Cougar's bed in the Dominion? Get her to take you here in the morning. Don't spend your hard earned coin and it'll be a lot more enjoyable.

If anyone knows of a better way to upload and link to a ppt file, please feel free to leave a comment for me with instructions. Thanks!

Frederick’s Bistro

A member of our group presented an interesting question at dinner on Friday:

When did you know that you were an adult?

It’s not exact, but one Friday evening you look up from your veal and find the conversation ranging from NPR announcers to dishwasher cleansers. Cabernets and Chardonnays pepper the table linens and you notice that your friends are nonchalantly wearing sport coats. Sport Coats? Just a few short years ago, the guy in a sport coat would immediately be written off as “trying too hard”, and comments would be made. Now we’re comparing brands and sizes.

But as it turns out, I was really enjoying myself.

Now that I’m decidedly an adult, I’m thankful for places like Frederick’s Bistro. Frederick Costa’s newest restaurant now joins his Broadway location succinctly known as “Frederick’s”.

Mr. Costa is a most gracious host. Reservations were no problem and he greeted us at the door to take us to a private table for eight. The wait staff was professional throughout the evening, with the owner even being kind enough to catch Rich in the parking lot and reunite him with his long-lost leftover sunfish. This attention to detail continued from the perpetually topped-off water glasses to the waitress’s delightfully nervous laugh at all of Joseph’s “jokes”.

Great! So how’s the food?

Sadly it’s hit and miss. The potato soup and the desserts were good, and the escargot wasn’t bad. The main courses all had grand presentation, but my high hopes weren’t met. It made me feel a bit like a boy at Christmas who asks Santa for Optimus Prime but ends up with "Eject" the cassette-shaped Autobot instead.

Much like our friend “Eject”, the veal ended up transforming from a highly anticipated visual masterpiece into a forgettable mundane object once my knife made its first cut.
That’s not to say it was bad. The veal was properly cooked and had a good smoky flavor, but the mushrooms seemed like an afterthought that weren’t integrated with the main dish.

Why would an annoying little kid like me even be expecting the metaphorical Optimus Prime for Christmas?

High menu prices. Most entrees lingered in the high $20 range, which puts Frederick’s Bistro against some hefty competitors for my dining dollars.

The ambiance is of a higher caliber than the last tenant (the short-lived Eclipse Café), further elevating my expectations. I’m always pleasantly amazed when a restaurant is able to carve an upscale nook out of a spiritually bereft strip center. I guess interior design majors aren’t useless after all. Who knew?

The waitress didn’t automatically add the tip which I found to be refreshingly unusual for such a large group. The total bill came out to nearly $150 for appetizers, soup, entrees and wine for two. That puts this Bistro in for some hefty competition….

Food: 3.5 Cuy
Service: 4 Cuy
Ambiance: 4 Cuy
Value: 2.5 Cuy

Overall:

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Are you dating someone who enjoys The Grill and Le Toile, but has been court-ordered to avoid the cities of Alamo Heights and Leon Springs? Or maybe you’re just looking for nice ambiance with good service and decent food. If so, this place might be for you and your classy jailbird girlfriend.


*In the interest of increasing reader participation I will award one American dollar (or one share of General Motors' stock) to the first person who can answer this question:

Why did the farmer feed his cow money?

Or just be the first to recommend a new restaurant for Friday dinner on December 5th.

2008 San Antonio New World Wine and Food Festival

Tasty Marketing.


That’s how I would review the 2008 San Antonio NWWFF if I only had two words to do so. Thankfully I have as much space as Blogger allows, which affords me enough room to do as I please. Check out my poem* to American electronic excess:

Wasted space to use

Endless Gigabytes of room

Must use it now

*snaps* Thank you! Thank you….you’re too kind. *snaps*

Two words aren’t enough to review a tasting event and two bites aren’t enough to review a restaurant. I really feel for the chefs that were tasked with creating a single appetizer to be indicative of their restaurants’ entire dining experience. Especially since they were limited to the type of cooking utensils permitted in a college dormitory.

With a mix of caterers, hotel restaurants, and stand-alone establishments, the clear advantage is to the caterers. They were much better prepared for serving large quantities of patrons from behind a folding table. I should hope that would be the case, as this is their (excuse the pun) bread and butter. Most of their names were forgettable, especially since I’m not currently seeking a chef for a bar mitzvah.

I didn’t really know what to expect from the “Grand Tasting”, so I thought it might be a nice public service to share my experience for all of those who might find themselves in my “newbie” position.

After locating the “Grotto” of the Henry B Gonzales convention center, we walked up to a table of chipper, multicultural Stepford wives who were able to collect money (or tickets – HEB has them cheaper) and dispense wristbands. A simple question like “So how does this work?” was greeted with a blank facial expression that told me “You just eat and drink stuff you moron!”

And it really is that simple. I quickly discovered that the proper etiquette is to feign interest in the purveyor’s offerings just long enough to not seem like a worthless freeloader. On the other hand, we paid $80 each for our wristbands and wine glasses, so my inner cheapness wanted to down shots of Merlot like a frat boy in Cabo. I suppose that the extra level of courtesy (and the entry fee) ensures the event stays classy, which is a laudable goal. And most people seemed to be dressed appropriately, despite the oxymoronic request of “dressy casual” found on their website. Emily Post must be rolling in her grave.

On to the food:

Pesca brought some delightful fried oysters that made me add it to the list of restaurants that I would like to try.

Francesca’s was trying too hard to cram too many flavors into their salmon-topped stuffed pita morsel.

Grey Moss Inn felt uninspired with their steak/crab/gorgonzola appetizer. Sounds great, tastes mediocre.


Achiote kept it simple and tasty with Peruvian sweet potatoes with great presentation.

Paloma Blanca had a very generic dish of chicken and rice. Despite being one of my favorite Mexican restaurants in town, you would never guess it from this event.

The St Anthony Hotel did a great job by combining a small portion of ceviche with a tequila chaser. The overall effect was memorable.

The Cypress Grill from Boerne caught my attention with a memorable ice cream cone stuffed with tuna and wasabi.

The Grill and Le Toile shared an unimpressive booth with a bland pasta dish, proving to be yet another good restaurant that missed the mark at the tasting.

The Jason Dady trio (The Lodge, Bin 555, and Tre Trattoria) came well prepared with a taste of each restaurant. The dense chocolate cake from Bin 555 was my favorite of the three. I’ve got to be nice because Chef Dady says that he keeps up with this blog ever since I reviewed Tre Trattoria.


And the wine:

It was all free, and all good. I’m easy when it comes to wine. Mey enjoyed the 2006 Virtu Meritage, but many decent wines passed through my wine glass that evening with little notice. Just in case you didn’t know, the unmarked pitchers of wine are spittoons and are NOT intended for your pouring convenience. Just trying to watch your back…


Food: 3 Cuy (on average)
Ambiance: 4 Cuy (The Grotto) 2 Cuy (Inside)
Service: 1 Cuy
Value: 2 Cuy

Overall:
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I’m glad I tried it, but unless you're dating this person I would recommend you spend your money on a nice meal that doesn't require juggling a styrofoam plate, a spork, and a glass of wine.

*I have had several requests to remove my original three-verse poem "Wasted Space" for the sake of brevity, clarity, and humor.  I have instead chosen to replace it with a new original work entitled "Wasted Space".  Sadly I used all of my creativity on the poem and had none left for the title.  I realize that this is perhaps not my best blog entry, but it's been more than three weeks since I last made an entry....so there you go.  Enjoy.  And be sure to tell me you like it.  Or don't.  Your approval means nothing to me.

La Focaccia

You know that “friend” that you keep calling whenever you get lonely? The adjectives you use to describe her could just as easily be used on your Grandmother’s Buick Roadmaster: Reliable. Comfortable. A bit heavy. Excessively Beige.

It’s easy to start every time and no matter how inattentive you are to maintenance, she’ll be there.

Calling at 1:17 pm on a random Tuesday from a prison in Montana? She’ll be there with bail.

Texting “what r u doing 2nite” at 1:59 AM from a “Gentleman’s” club? She’ll give you a ride home with a smile.

It’s kind of sad and great at the same time.

La Foccacia is that girlfriend.

After going through grueling lengths trying to get a table at La Frite (see below), followed by “just 5 more minutes” for an hour at Azuca, dependability becomes paramount. We were seated immediately at one of the several vacant tables.

The restaurant has a certain “church community center” feel to it with the rectangular tables and generic chairs arranged in a reassuring grid. On Fridays you get the extra treat of live music. By live music, of course I mean that there’s an antediluvian senior playing muzac on a synthesizer. It sounds about how a church organ would sound if Jeff Bridges were using it to play Celine Dion cover songs in Tron.

The waitress sensed our urgency (dinner was at 10pm) and quickly presented their namesake focaccia bread, which we hoovered like Monica Lewinsky. I don’t think any of the bread actually contacted my taste buds on the way down, but I recall from past meals that it is quite good, making overindulgence inevitable. The waitress promptly requested our orders with the soothing reassurance of a 1950s telephone operator. I selected the “Medallions of Tenderloin in Burgundy Wine with Mushrooms”. The tenderloin wasn’t exactly tender, and I’m sure the musician would’ve lost his dentures on this one. Not really the melt-in-your-mouth flavor that I was hoping for from an $18 dish. The wine sauce was ok, so overall it was an average dish.


My eighteen Washingtons also got me a small salad and a side order of spaghetti in a garlic butter sauce. Meh. I suppose I’ll be generous and say that it tasted like it was made with love. And isn’t that what we expect from “old reliable”?

Food: 2.5 Cuy
Service: 4 Cuy
Ambiance: 3.5 Geriatric Cuy
Value: 2 Cuy

Overall:

La Focaccia's website

Taking your dependable "friend" out for dinner? Not a bad place, but doesn't she deserve better after all that she's done for you?

La Frite

This Belgian restaurant left me with a bad taste in my mouth. And I wish I was referring to the food. We weren’t so lucky.

So… They don’t take reservations.

Ok, no worries. So we showed up and tried our luck at the usual time on a Friday evening. It wasn’t a First Friday, so how busy could it be? Well, quite busy actually.

There’s no hostess stand (or hostess), so you just have to mill around with waiters flying about like human Messerschmitts until someone feels like acknowledging that you aren’t a spectator.

Eventually we told the gentleman that we were a party of seven for dinner, to which he looked at us incredulously and said “it will be a loooooong wait” and then walked off. No name taken and no timeframe.

Several minutes passed and I began eyeing the tables like a vulture. Drink quickly people! Life’s short!

It wasn’t the fault of the other patrons that we had to wait. I can understand a restaurant being busy. The guests should feel comfortable to eat at whatever pace they would like. But the inexact host prompted me to scan the tables like a gold digger at the Republican national convention.

I inquired again for more specifics, as I could see that members of the party were not weathering the wait well. The response was a sarcastic “For a party of seven? Hmmph” as though we were imposing on him for requesting to dine in his restaurant.

I can respect that a restaurant would have a hard time accommodating a group of seven for dinner on a Friday night. I can respect that there might be a long wait for a nice restaurant in the gentrified Southtown neighborhood. But there are better ways to manage your customers.

Perhaps my cooler headed friends will prevail and we will attempt to dine at Le Frite another time. It will be a looooooong time from now.

Are you looking for a place to use the line "I'm sorry honey; why don't we go back to my place and we'll cook something?" You've found just the place!