Eats: Houston eating

I've been looking through my list of Houston eat-outs this trip and my photos, wondering where to even begin. As I get more under the skin of the city and vice versa, new epicurean ventures open up. Friends, especially friends, now familiar haunts and favourite hangouts, the weather, and of course, being with The Boy - have all helped me warm one more degree to the city. Nowadays, whenever I have to think about where to eat, I am excited with the gastronomical possibilities Houston has to offer. The restaurant scene here may not have the cosmopolitan breadth of NY or London or Sydney, but what it does, it does very well indeed. The Boy and I have ventured further afield this time, become more opinionated about our likes and dislikes. By God's grace, we met on the important things (read: Mexican food), but differed on others (in particular, fav Japanese). For more brutally honest observations and with infinitely more expertise to back it up, these fearless critics give it good. But what transpires herewith is just me.

First stop: Mexican.

Each trip, The Boy picks me at the airport and asks: What do you want for dinner? The answer is always the same: Mexican. Inevitably, we find ourselves driving along 59 until the neon sign that announces Lupe Tortilla looms. The bar is always full, so we wait on the benches outside, watching the children play in the sandpit, me wishing I could sit on one of the fake animals that dot the front of house, people - couples, families, children, friends meeting friends - milling around. It is a happy place. I always order the Tacos Al Carbon - a duo of two tacos - plus guacamole. The fajitas are Lupe's speciality, but I'm lazy to make my own food. Lupe is good, it's familiar, it tells me I'm in Houston at last.

But Houstonites are fiercely divided and loyal to their Mexican, so I'm gonna be fair here and say that I gave Chuy's (the one on West Gray) - the other big contender in this category - a try one night. It's ok, but not in Lupe's league, I'm afraid (although this does not exclude someone else beating Lupe, just that I haven't been). The guacamole was a lot of avocado and little else, and the chicken in my enchilada was tasteless. It was not bad, but it wasn't great either. Berryhill was another one we tried one afternoon after church. It was good - better than Chuy's - but I like still Lupe's best. Lupe has both the food and the atmosphere! Now with a favourite Mexican under my belt, I feel like I can call myself a Houstonite wannabe!


Breakfast. The Boy and I don't think very hard about this. We just go to where we've always gone to. Taco Cabana (the one on Buffalo Speedway) for breakfast tacos in the past. But every Sunday, without fail, to La Mexicana (the one on Montrose) for huevos rancheros (huevos reveultos - scrambled eggs - for me). We bring our Bibles, next time I'm gonna ask for the Sunday paper too. We sit at the table we always sit at, greeted by the same waitress who always welcomes us. The Boy and I have also got into the habit of saying 'no' to taco chips and asking for corn tortillas instead. I take one, roll it with a few spoonfuls of scrambled egg and salsa to make my very own "free-style" enchilada, dip it in some refried beans, chew and swallow with a gulp of black coffee (the coffee here is pretty decent). I really really like it here, but more than anything, I like spending a lazy Sunday morning with The Boy - the good ol' Mexican breakfast is just a bonus. Another happy place.

New and some old favourite haunts

We went to Kolache Factory (the one off Memorial) every other morning, so often that the moment the guy behind the counter sees us walking through them doors, before we can even get to the counter, he already has 3 sausage and cheese kolaches (one for me, two for The Boy) in two bags and one big cup for a decaf ready. Although I have to say that I think I'm going to switch to the Texan Hot Polish next time - saves trouble with mustard sauce. There's something very homey about the bread - just a touch of sweetness to make your day. The egg kolaches don't do it for me though.

We've also decided that, the next time we are craving Popeye's or Church's fried chicken, to remind ourselves that we like the roast chicken at Boston Market just fine too. It's healthier, and comes with yummy sides like really good cornbread, really really good mash, french beans and sweet potato (I don't like this though, The Boy does). We also discovered that California Pizza Kitchen (the one next to River Oaks), chichi (for a pizza joint) and overpriced as it might be, has very good salads. My favourites are the Asian ones - miso salad (first choice) and crunchy Thai salad (contains peanuts). The Boy also tried the Chinese salad, but I think he said it came a distant third. We also discovered that it takes very little dressing to make us happy. A trick we use: instead of pouring the dressing over the salad, dip your fork into the dressing before forking the salad. Trust me, it's enough dressing to make anyone happy. Obviously, always ask for dressing on the side.

Romano's (on W. Gray) is a New York style Italian pizzeria with very good pasta too. After three tries - the Red Clam sauce, the mozzarella pizza (sold by the slice), and the Lobster Ravioli - my conclusion is that I like their tomato sauces more than their cream sauces, and that the accompanying salad is actually delicious if you ignore the two comatose slices of salami and plasticky artificial cheese in it. This is canteen food at its best.

But at the end of the day, when it comes to comfort fast food, there is always Taco Bell(a) (two classics for me, two classics and a bean burrito for The Boy).

Fancy eats


My friend Leslie, who is one of the most amazingly attractive and zany girls you'll every meet, told me that her dad took her to a fancy Southern restaurant when he was in town last. My ears pricked at the word "Southern", cos it's something new to me (hence exciting). So I bugged The Boy to take me to Ouisie's Table for a whole week. It was our first fancy meal, and the place was really pretty actually. Maybe it was a Sunday night, maybe all the young people had decided to stay in to watch the game on tele, maybe it was the waiting staff - I swear no one under the age of 50 works there - but Ouisie's Table, on that particular Sunday night, was empty and otherwise full of old people. Which was a pity, because I hear that it is a hot spot with the ladies who lunch, and there were some pretty interesting things going on in the menu. Take my shrimp on cheese grits for example - how much more exciting can it get than shrimp on cheese grits? And I absolutely love those cheesy muffins they serve at the start (Fogo de Chao has pretty good ones too). The Boy had a very very very very very big platter of chicken fried steak, which was good but very very very very very big. One thing I have to say about Ouisie's Table though - if you have anything at all, have their award-winning chocolate cake. It really is award-winning (although the 5 layer chocolate cake at The Chocolate Bar is tough competition - to be eaten only when you have been very good the whole week... but more about this later).


I'm a total sucker for anything the egulleters are excited about - whether in London or Houston, the most talked about places are usually also pretty fancy. Well, everyone in the Houston circle was going on and on about Da Marco, so again, I bugged The Boy to take me there. We went there for our "special date night" (read: wedding talk). And it was very nice indeed. Many tables around us sounded European - we had two very drunk and gossipy Italian ladies next to us, who among other things ordered a very expensive serving of pasta with shaved black truffles, and a quartet of French behind us - and indeed the menu felt very European, which I considered while sipping a bellini. My decision, however, was made the instant I saw "braised short ribs" in print. I rarely see short ribs on the menu - they are a rare cut in London, let alone Houston! My braised short ribs were to die for - so very very soft and almost falling off the bone - indeed, it had been trimmed off and neatly placed on top of the bone - with a cashmere blanket of rich red wine sauce covering it. Which made the accompanying side of risotto a pity - it was just too cheesy for my taste, and The Boy agreed. But I can still taste the braised short ribs in my mouth - unforgettably yum! Actually, we figured that you don't need to sell your house and home to dine at Da Marco. Perhaps not every night, or every week, but it is quite possible to pop in for a casual plate of pasta and still leave with some cash in your pocket. Definitely a happy place.

We went to Fogo de Chao again, this time, with friends. If you like meat, then this Brazilian churrascas (served on silver swords no less) is the place. The Fearless Critics were not as enthused, but I was. The trick with Fogo de Chao is, you must make up your mind which are your favourite cuts of meat, and then only go for those. There are several meats that, as the Fearless Critics quite rightly pointed out, were pointless - like the chicken wrapped in bacon and the fillet mignon. My favourites are the top sirloin, their house special sirloin flavoured with garlic, and the roast lamb chops.The Boy keeps telling me not to fill up at the salad bar or with the sides, but they are quite delish too. I love the fried plantains, the crispy hot polenta cakes, and the cheesy muffins. I like that it's always bustling and that the food magically appears when you turn your card to green. Definitely another happy place.

Girlie lunches, coffee and cake


Friends have been the epitome of Houston for me. Even before I arrived, many had generously offered me a roof over my head during my trip. What was even more amazing was the hospitality of a total stranger. Out of the blue, a Miss T responded to my email and said I could stay with her for 2 weeks. It turns out that she was renting from a friend of mine who is currently on overseas assignment in London, and had a spare room, which turned out to be a very pretty room with happy yellow and blue accents in a very well-kept home. Miss T herself was a young, energetic, fun-loving and Godly girl whom I learned an amazing amount from in a very short time. From her, I learned hospitality, generosity, goal-setting (she had set a goal of running a half-marathon before she turned X and ended up doing three!), and to walk constantly with God. She was amazingly active, and I felt that buzz about her the very first time we met at the Empire Cafe - one of many Houston institutions. Good enough coffee, terrible cake, but an institution nonetheless. Just as well, Miss T and I turned out to share a love for a good cuppa tea, and among the Cohibas and bottles of Macallen and other pretty presents I brought from London, I brought English tea.


Alone one afternoon, after a harrowing experience of being lost in Houston without a mobile phone, I went to another Houston institution for a quiet lunch with my Bible. The Hobbit Cafe is hidden behind a sushi joint and a forestry of green. You could very easily miss it driving down Richmond Ave, since the sign is partially hidden by aforesaid forestry. The fish tacos there were the best I've had (not that I've had much), but served a tad cold. Hot food served cold seems to be a constant lament by Hobbit followers, judging from the reviews I've read, but they still keep coming. If you like lunch in a non-chain (my constant pursuit in Houston), independently-run joint set in a rustic wooden cottage with a rather quaint and squashed atmosphere (it does have a Hobbit theme, you know), then this is your happy place. The fish tacos are good.

Other girly lunches: Ziggy's Healthy Grill (picks up the trend for healthy eating out in Houston), Bewitched (pretty place on Westheimer (near Da Marco) for a girlie lunch, sandwich and soup combos, one girlfriend swears by their tres leches cupcakes), and the Central Market deli (central, won't get lost, ok food, but most importantly everyone knows how to get there and I won't get lost).

Downtown and office lunches

As I continue to think about my future new life in Houston, and muse about combining all my loves: food, fashion, books, God - and being brought back to earth by the urgency of my thesis deadline - this very long post on Houston eating must continue. Joined by The Boy's colleagues in the afternoons, the cosmopolitan mix of people ensured that our afternoon adventures were equally diverse.

FK grew up in Qatar, and is mad about Mary'z, a Lebanese restaurant some ways from Downtown (hence, you can tell his madness for the place) - so mad that he eats almost every meal there. Besides the usual hummus, babaganoush, tabouli, falafel and such, I savoured something totally new: Only for the absolutely brave, kibbi is marinated raw ground beef eaten with onion, mint, wrapped in pita bread. Ordered off menu. Delicious! The boys also love the sandwiches (kabobs) here. Nice to hangout at night with the shisha.


Continuing the Middle Eastern theme, The Boy took me to Zabek's Lebanese Cafe one afternoon, just on our own. I think it's a pretty new place opened by a great guy name Pete, hence it hasn't shown up on citysearch. Anyways, for a more low-key, canteen-style, smaller menu, but very good version of Mary'z, this is the place.

The Boy does like his canteen food, and my eyes and stomach continue to be opened to new foods. Another Downtown canteen that he took me to (romantic guy he is) was Zydeco. I'm completely new to Southern food - still sorting out my gumbos and jambalayas and such. Most of the stuff I've had in Houston seem to originate from Lousiana. Anyways, we are talking absolutely opposite end of Ousie's Table here. I ordered the most foreign thing I could find on the menu, which turned out to be ettoufee. Ettoufee is a Cajun stew made with dark roux and crawfish, served over rice. It tasted like a mild curry, but with the kick of a rich stock. If you can ignore the ghetto surroundings and the lone guy with his greying dreadlocks strumming his guitar in the corner (whom I thought was super-retro anyway, harkening some desert era past), and the way the food is slopped on these 10 cent plasticky plates, there are some delicious things to be found here. The Boy's fried shrimp was very good too (I stole two).


Les Givral is another local hotspot, enthused over by food critics and foodies alike. You would never guess from its name (if you weren't local, that is) that it is a Vietnamese cafe. My pho was good, as were the spring rolls wrapped in rice paper that we ordered for appetizers. A solid place to pick up a quick lunch, but I really don't see the fuss. And Vietnamese sandwiches? That was a new thing to me - I wonder if they exist in Vietnam? No bahn xeo to be found here. For that, I think I will just need to think of ways to be invited to M and T's home, and get to play with the baby as a bonus! What is to be found on the menu is very good, however. Bright and cheery.

Asian

After the race on Saturday, we met up with A and M at Fung's Kitchen. It's certainly more authentic and better dimsum here than what you find at Ocean Palace - btw I find it interesting that Chinese restaurants in Houston have websites - yet there will always be something attractively cheesy American about Ocean Palace's water fountains, tall French windows, giant dumplings and Beijing-like hugeness. It's like eating in a freaking opera theatre. Still searching for the best dimsum in Houston, although Fung's Kitchen is not bad.

Then, we come to the showdown between The Boy and me. We are pretty opinionated when it comes to Japanese food, although neither of us are really in any particular way qualified to hold professional opinions of any sort (but, when it comes to food, it really comes down to what you like, doesn't it?). Ok, so The Boy's uncle is half-Japanese and that apparently invests him with the final say in all things Japanese in our relationship. hmph. We went to Nippon for my Houston farewell. Various foodies have been raving about the authentic sushi you can get there, and the "secret" menu that is all in Japanese and has all the good stuff on it. The raw sushi is, IMHO, better than what you get at Kubo's. Saying this was pretty much committing travesty in The Boy's eyes, but this was also as far as our differences went. Yes, Nippon is pretty much the genuine Japanese deal and not as Americanised as Kubo. But, guys, this isn't Tokyo. And the sushi at Kubo's is very good already. Plus I don't like the snobbishness of having a "secret" menu in Japanese because, guess what?, you're in America (I'm saying this and I'm not even American!). Food should be an equalizer. Good food should be shared. A secret menu says that you're not Japanese, so you're not good enough to try this or that. Well, I'm a paying customer like everyone else, so I am good enough. And I'm also going to Kubo next time, where there is very very good sushi, you can watch the sushi chefs at work if you want to, and they also serve great American creations like tiger eye and crazy roll.

Chocolatiers


The Boy was so sweet. When I arrived at Bush International, there he was with a big bag that said "The Chocolate Bar". Inside were two boxes of Valentines Day chocolates for me - 1 box of chocolate covered strawberries + 1 box of truffles. American chocolate truffles are creamier than European truffles. My truffles are kinda middling - gosh, it's been a long time since I experimented with chocolate! The Chocolate Bar also has these humungous FIVE layered chocolate fudge cakes, which we promised ourselves we would buy a slice of if/after we ran the Houston 10km. And we did. It was everything that we dreamed it would be - a close second to my favourite chocolate fudge cake in the world!


A friend also recommended Raindrop Chocolates. We really had no excuse not to pop in, especially when it's just down the road from us. Raindrop Chocolates has amazing gelato - the genuine cowboy, with a genuine cowboy to match!


Don Burke is the brains (and chef) behind Raindrop Chocolates, and will regale you will tales of his travels, what colour real pistachio gelato should be, FDA regulations that allow fake pistachio gelato, how long some ice-cream brands take to get from production line to supermarket shelves etc etc. Let him talk, while you savour a cup of his amazing gelato.

That's everything, folks! Till the next trip, happy eating!