Tuesday, August 10, 2010
1108 Restaurants Open Around Town
Coolinary And Other Special Summer Menus Now In Play
Market Tuesdays At A Mano.
At A Mano, Chef Adolfo Garcia's confusingly-named Italian restaurant in the Warehouse District, they're instituting a new weekly event: Market Night. The chef heads to the weekly farmer's market at Uptown Square this morning, buys what looks good, then begins to assemble a full dinner menu from the bounty. All four courses of that dinner will be served family-style, with big tables and communal seating (sort of like our Eat Club dinners, I imagine). The price is $38, plus tax and tip. You have to be there at seven.
Here's the menu:
Salumi
An assortment of house-cured meats
Antipasti
An assortment, depending on the market's riches
Pasta
The chef says, "Trust me."
Porchetta a la Romana
Roasted free-range pork from Justin Pitt's Farm in Mississippi, carved at the table, skin on, with crispy crackling served with roasted potatoes.
They didn't mention a dessert, but maybe there'll be one. Reservations are limited, and you do need one. If you miss this week's, there will be others.
A Mano. Warehouse District: 870 Tchoupitoulas, 504-208-9280.
All 27 Summer Menus So Far
NOMenu has a page listing not only all the summer specials we know about, but all the menus, too. I'm adding new ones daily. That list is now online here.
Thursday, July 29. On TV In Dallas. To Houston. Quattro. We went to bed last night with a disturbing uncertainty. We didn't know what time I'm supposed to show up for my appearance on Good Morning Texas this morning. Such shows are notorious for requiring guests to be in the studio at 5:30 a.m. We were operating under that painful assumption.
At five a.m., we learned that Good Morning Texas doesn't go on until nine, and that eight-thirty was plenty early enough. We're only five minutes from the station. Yes! Back to sleep.
We awoke with time to have breakfast in the Mansion on Turtle Creek's marvelous dining room. We were the first ones in there. We had a more or less standard breakfast, with fresh juice and caffe latte and fruit around the eggs and bacon. Sixty-two dollars.
Good Morning Texas is not a typical lame morning show--but Dallas is a big market. The hosts--Rob McCollum and Amy Vanderoef--were network-quality sharp and smart. While I began cooking my sweet-heat pork tenderloin on the set, I watched them with the other guests. The most interesting were a half-dozen dancers for the Dallas basketball team. They were in full dance mini-outfits, which yanked the eyes of all the men on the set in their direction. Few things are more alluring than the figure of a dancer.
Also on the show before me were the Girls Scouts with their cookies, a woman who talked about eating healthy, and the Blue Bell Ice Cream guys. Texas is Blue Bell country. They had a couple of new flavors. I asked one of them why they stopped making Garlic Sardine. I think the guy took me seriously for a microsecond.
Then, my turn. Rob came over and volunteered to finish the pan sauce. The pork tenderloin was already seared and cooked. I had to perform the latter task in a microwave oven; there was no other way. While Rob reduced the sauce of apple juice and pepper jelly, he asked all the right questions: about the New Orleans restaurant scene, about the safety of Gulf seafood (he know it was fine, but wanted to make that point again), and about the dancers, who continued to distract us by standing near the stove, bending over and looking at my pan. I persuaded Rob to go along with a dumb skit. He tasted the sauce and said it needed a little Tabasco. I whipped out one of those teeny bottles of the stuff and said, "Well, here's a little Tabasco for you!"
The video of all this is here.
We checked out of the Mansion and left for Houston. We had to take I-45 all the way, to get my radio show on the air. So far, we've driven almost nothing but freeways. This is a far cry from the leisurely wandering I envisioned for this trip. And, so far, more work than work.
Mary Ann is a hamburger hound. She was intrigued by an article in Texas Monthly about the state's best burgers. One of the nominees was a Texas chain called Whataburger. I remember trying one of these on an early trip to Texas in 1976. I didn't think much of it then. But thirty-four years can make a lot of changes. We planned on lunching at a Whataburger en route to Houston, but every location was on the wrong side of the highway and back a few miles. We almost found one in Huntsville (home of Texas's hyperactive Death Row), but road construction separated the restaurant from the exit. No Whataburger today.
The metropolitan area of Houston is now as far north as Conroe. I remember Conroe's being a country town last time I was there (1976). It's unambiguously suburban now, with all the chain malls that implies. We continued into the heart of Houston, and the caliber of business changed. I saw an establishment called "Dago Tattoos" advertising to the I-45 stream.
I stayed at the then-new Four Seasons Hotel in 1984, when it hosted a conference on New Southwestern Cuisine. A terrific event, it turned me on to that exciting cuisine. One evening, the New Orleans contingent had a late-night party in my suite (press weasel perks were common back then), attended by Emeril (who'd just started at Commander's), Gerard Maras (then chef of Mr. B's), Cindy Brennan, Lally Brennan, and a few others. I had a great picture of all of us at that youthful time, but Katrina got it.
The Four Seasons looks dated. It's in good shape, but the style is too old to be hip and not old enough to be retro. Its main advantage is that it's a block or so from the Convention Center. That is on the less glittery side of downtown. Mary Ann wanted to walk the few blocks to Pappas BBQ, but when she asked for directions the concierge warned her the neighborhood wasn't safe, and that she should take the hotel's free shuttle. Mary Ann was not impressed by any of this. But she found the hotel, and cut the two-for-one deal for the room. So she's stuck. As for me, I can stay in any kind of hotel as long as the dataport on the phone works, so I can get my radio show on the air. It did, and I did.
On the way from Dallas, I asked Mary Ann (who let me drive!) to look through the restaurant listings in Texas Monthly for a place for dinner in Houston. She was intrigued by an avant-garde Italian restaurant called Quattro. By marvelous coincidence, Quattro turned out to be right in our hotel! Well, the Four Seasons always did have good restaurants.
We were served by an older waiter, originally from Portugal. I got his attention by ordering a Negroni cocktail. We struck up a conversation about linguiça, comparing and contrasting the Brazilian and Portuguese versions of that sausage. He decided that we were not conventioneers, and gave us great advice on the menu.
Which was, indeed, not just unusual but very good. We began with hand-carved Parma prosciutto, cut off the whole pig leg, right there in the dining room. This was part of what they called an "enoteca" menu--small plates, essentially, matched with wines. We stayed with that for an amazing dish of a long board of eggplant, topped with scoops of burrata. That's an interesting item: it's a not-quite-finished, whole-milk mozzarella, and with a curd-like texture and a creamy milky flavor. The waiter insisted that I try this, and it was as good as advertised.
Then some cavatelli pasta (like tiny canoes) with house-made pork sausage (not linguiça), porcini mushrooms and a light demi-glace-tasting sauce with rosemary.
And wild mushrooms, speck, and a couple of foldover ravioli, in a rich sauce that hit a crescendo with a fluff of foam.
What about this rack of lamb with a coffee glaze, and a crust of ciabatta (gesundheit!) and basil, I asked the waiter. He said there was no need to investigate the menu further: that was the dish for me. He was right about that. Very juicy, and the crust brilliant.
The coffee that glazed the lamb was identified by the menu as being from Illy, the biggest producer of espresso in Italy. (How could anyone note a flavor distinction?) I told the waiter that about twenty years ago I had lunch with Ernesto Illy, who owns the company. He wasn't too impressed. Whoops. I forgot. This is Houston, where everybody has money and a good story to back up his claims to being substantial.
Mary Ann finished with a light enoteca dish made of sheets of phyllo and some kind of filling. This was after I'd had a second Negroni and most of a bottle of Tommasi Amarone. I have no recollection of what it was, but the picture is certainly striking. I must be forgiven for this. It was a long day.
One dessert, as usual: a creme brulee topped with a citrus rind filled with granita, berries, and grapes. Pretty and good. Espresso.
Two hundred thirty-eight dollars, this meal was. No tablecloths. I am becoming more alarmed daily by this trend toward placemats.
Quattro. In the Four Seasons Hotel. Houston: 1300 Lamar Ave. 713-276-4700. Contemporary Italian.
Click here for the Dining Diary entry before the one above.
Click here for an index to the last five years of entries.
Breakfast. Sandwiches. Creole.
Abita Springs: 22132 Level. 985-867-9950. Map.
Breakfast and lunch Tuesday-Sunday. Dinner Friday-Saturday.
Casual.
AE DC DS MC V
WHY IT'S NOTEWORTHY
In small towns all over America, the corner of Main and Main almost always has a little old cafe. If the town is lucky, the place will still be in business, usually serving only breakfast and lunch to the same bunch of people every day, plus a few people who happen to be driving through and who think the place is cute. If the town is really, really lucky, the food will be good. All this describes the form and function of the Abita Springs Cafe, right in the middle of the sleepy town of the same name.
WHY IT'S GOOD
Most regular customers come for breakfast, which is generous and good. The omelettes are especially tasty, and include some unique combinations involving seafood and fresh vegetables. Neither the single pancake nor the biscuit can be finished by a person of normal appetite. At lunch, they shift to burgers, poor boys, and a few plate specials of surprising goodness. The new dinner service features just two or three dishes in each course, and is a lot like dining in someone's home.
BACKSTORY
The old frame building has been a restaurant for at least twenty-five years, under different owners. A former chef from Commander's Palace operated it for a decade, and set a higher standard for the food without making it inappropriately stuffy. Current owner Stephen Herbert--also a veteran in restaurant kitchens--made few changes other than cosmetic ones. Recently, he added dinner on the weekends.
DINING ROOM
The grooved-plank paneling inside, the door that constantly needs to be closed, the tables under ceiling fans on the wrap-around patio. . . it's all the stuff of the ideal small-town cafe. The mayor and the sheriff and the old guys get a table as soon as the doors are unlocked and stay there for hours.
ESSENTIAL DISHES
Abita Star breakfast (eggs, cheese, ham, hash browns, in a stack)
Omelettes, especially spinach and crabmeat.
Basic breakfast combinations
Pancakes
Roast beef poor boy
Jethro poor boy (combo)
Abita burger (Cajun style)
Plate specials, especially grilled fish
FOR BEST RESULTS
Don't hesitate to tell them exactly how you want the omelette--not just what should be in it, but how it should be cooked. You might have to wait for a table on Saturdays and Sundays, especially after services let out at the two churches within a block.
OPPORTUNITIES FOR IMPROVEMENT
A few options for those looking to avoid cholesterol bombs would be helpful. I also wish they served chicory coffee.
FACTORS OTHER THAN FOOD
Up to three points, positive or negative, for these characteristics. Absence of points denotes average performance in the matter.
- Dining Environment
- Consistency +1
- Service +1
- Value +1
- Attitude +2
- Wine and Bar
- Hipness -2
- Local Color +2
SPECIAL ATTRIBUTES
- Sidewalk tables
- Open Sunday lunch
- Unusually large servings
- Quick, good meal
- Good for children
- Easy, nearby parking
- No reservations
ANECDOTES AND ANALYSIS
This is the closest restaurant to where I live. For years, my daughter and I came here every Saturday for breakfast--just the two of us. It's that kind of place.
White Bean & Artichoke Puree
This is an almost absurdly simple, rustic appetizer at Del Porto, one of the area's most sophisticated Italian restaurants. My wife--who holds dips in the highest imaginable regard--thinks this is one of the best she ever had. I like it too. It gets better if you make it a day ahead.
- 2 Tbs. olive oil
- 2 Tbs. chopped garlic
- 1 sprig fresh thyme leaves, chopped
- 3 cups cooked white beans
- 2 whole lemon-braised artichoke hearts with the stems, chopped (or one small jar artichoke hearts packed in oil)
- 1/2 cups artichoke liquid, (can use water)
- 1 Tbs. kosher salt
- 1 tsp. fresh ground black pepper
- 1/3 cup fresh lemon juice
1. Heat the olive oil in a small skillet until it shimmers. Add the garlic. When you can see the first signs of browning, add the thyme and remove the pan from the heat. Spoon the entire contents of the pan into a large bowl to cool.
2. In two or three batches (depending on how big your food processor is), combine all the remaining Ingredients in a food processor. Process until smooth. (A few small solid grains are okay.)Check seasonings and add more salt and pepper, if needed.
3. Combine all the batches in the bowl with the olive oil and garlic. Mix with a rubber spatula until well blended.
4. Garnish with extra-virgin olive oil, olive, capers, caper berries, and fresh chopped parsley. Serve with crusty bread as an appetizer.
Makes about three cups--enough for 12-16.
