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Sushi on a North Texas Country Highway?

In a world in which Japanese sushi is urban, urbane and expensive - especially at places like Uchi that expanded into the Houston market from Austin and Katsuya from Los Angeles - is it even possible that some serious versions of the stuff can be found at a general store that may or may not be a gas station outside Ennis, TX? The sign has trouble holding onto letters, obviously, but you catch the drift quickly and turn in off the winding highway through the bluebonnets. Talk about… Only in America!

Only after lunching and leaving the Bristol General Store and Grill (Bristol being the nearest town, or village, or hamlet, or whatever) did a local suggest the gas pumps weren’t actually functioning anymore. And that seemed a shame, since “sushi at a gas station” was about as dramatic and unexpected as life can get. One of the employees was trying to jump-start someone’s car out front, but I suppose it may have been a family member’s.

So… you enter this little country store that may or may not pump gas, and if you forgo the pleasures of tortilla chips and canned ravioli, you step up to the counter and order from a picture book of entirely legitimate sushi and sashimi. Having pictures is a plus around here, apparently. In this part of the country, a lot more sushi things are fried than we’re used to - batter-fried in the holy name of “tempura” - but otherwise the sushi tastes fresh and delightful. You can do takeout or eat from styrofoam at comfortable shaded picnic tables outside. We’ve traveled a long, wonderful road from brisket and beans, let me tell you!

Steak Dinner to Die for at Wildcatter Ranch

In a lovely area of north Texas rich with a history of gunfights, cattle drives, and Injun violence, dinner last night was pure steak. Even better, it was served at the steakhouse at Wildcatter Ranch Resort & Spa, a destination about two hours west of Dallas that’s more relaxing than anything that happened nearby at the start of the fabled Goodnight-Loving Trail.

With something over 30 rooms, in cabins where I’m staying but also in the Hotel, Wildcatter Ranch is definitely a surprise out here in this rugged section of Young County, which combines rolling green hills with unexpected outcroppings of rock. Also unexpected, a little bit anyway, is the seriousness about food and wine of the resort’s F&B manager Bob Bratcher. To say that beef is “what’s for dinner” at Wildcatter Ranch is an understatement worthy of John Wayne.

Here, for instance, is my T-Bone before I attacked it with all the ferocity of Quanah Parker, before the area’s last great chief made his peace with the white man and decided Theodore Roosevelt was a great guy to have over for dinner. The beef at the ranch is amazing, and sometimes the sides are even better. The potatoes in that bowl with lots of molten cheese are actually one of the best steakhouse sides I’ve ever tasted. I declare them “potato lasagna.”

Due to the mysteries of the county being “dry,” you have to join a private club to buy anything alcoholic at Wildcatter Ranch; but considering the quality of the wine program, I’d suggest you pledge allegiance to whatever it is right away. Bob took me through his wine room, and I was impressed by not only the vintages he carries but by how well he describes their various charms. Not inappropriately, reds rule the school.

I’m not sure “The Sons of Katie Elder,” made famous by a Hollywood shoot-’em-up starring John Wayne and Dean Martin that’s based on something that happened near here, ate a whole lot of creme brulee. But the dessert turns up in high style at the steakhouse. The creme is creamy and the brulee is crisp, and yes, all’s right with the world. Note the big-city squizzle of chocolate sauce.

Still, I have a single favorite among the desserts at Wildcatter Ranch Steakhouse, and it’s the slightly different bread pudding. All the great flavors are right, as we’d expect after growing up in bread pudding-crazed New Orleans. But instead of a single, tightly pressed loaf or square, this bread pudding is a series of individual cubes, each of which gets a bit crispy and caramelized. Like the old cattle drives organized here by Charles Goodnight (whose first name put the “chuck” in chuckwagon) and Oliver Loving, this bread pudding is an idea whose time has come.

And finally, in the photos above and below, here’s a look at Wildcatter Ranch itself. Above, this is the other bed in my cabin named after the Marlow Brothers, the figures in local history who inspired the movie “The Sons of Katie Elder.” And below, that’s the shortly-after-sunrise view from my veranda, hopefully looking down on terrain I will cover shortly during the resort’s daily trail ride.

Umami in Nine Courses by Four Chefs

Without even the much-ballyhooed “magic of television,” I went to dinner last night at two of my favorite Houston restaurants. The chef and sous chef of both Kata Robata and Haven got together (that’s a quartet of chefs, if you’re counting) to prepare something called an Umami Dinner. And while the dictionary does us no favors by defining/describing umami as “savoriness,” the four chefs went the extra mile to help us understand.

“Chef Hori” (Manabu Horiuchi) was the gracious host on behalf of Kata, but it was hard to forget Randy Evans of Haven was in the kitchen when these Texas Gulf Coast oysters showed up with a minimum of camouflage. Yes, there was something on top called “ghost pepper caviar” plus a very simple mignonette. But mostly what was waiting on these half shells was a glistening, salty-clean taste of the sea. The oysters were expertly paired with some bubbles, California’s Domaine Carneros Brut Rose.

These days, fusion or no fusion, so many culinary threads come together over uncooked fish. This ceviche, for instance, was pleasantly citrusy, complete with the surprise of the “olive oil sorbet.” At the tables, words like ceviche were awash among other words like sushi and sashimi. All in all, the Umami Dinner had nine courses, so each tended to be small and tending toward light.

While cooking definitely understands the concept of “top billing” - which of course goes to the chef-owner or executive chef of each restaurant - there was a good deal of attention paid to each sous chef: Mark Gabriel Medina of Kata Robata and Jean Philippe Gaston of Haven. This, for instance, was Medina’s reinvention of the salad, with grilled leeks, gruyere cheese, mustard seeds, spiced walnuts and a balsamic glaze.

Almost as though this were an Italian dinner, it definitely had a “pasta course” - the pasta made with the fennel Italian cooks use as often as possible. Still, what happened to this pasta after that wasn’t Italian, starting with something called “karasumi,” plus Meyer lemon zest, pine nuts and olive oil. The wine paired with this was the lovely De Westhof Bon Vallon chardonnay.

Mackerel remains something of an acquired taste, whether we euphemize it as “full-flavored” or call it what all old-time Gulf fishermen always call it, “oily.” Still, Chef Hori turned to mackerel for one of the most traditional Japanese dishes of the evening, braising the fish in miso before pairing it up with frisee, kumquats and an intriguing “espuma” tinged with mustard. True to tradition, the dish showed up with a glass of sake, the Kanbara “Bride of the Fox” junmai ginjo.

Chef Randy made a heartfelt joke to the 30 lucky diners, something about not wanting to ”mess up” seafood in front of a sushi master like Chef Hori. As big fans of Haven, we’re sure Evans would have done seafood fine. But we were more than happy with his quail “Scotched” eggs, meaning stuffed into a sausage ball, and especially with this veal with beat puree, crispy fried kale chips and unexpected (though unsweet) cocoa nibs The veal dish showed up with the delicious Z Blend from Paraduxx.

When you reach the ninth course of any menu, it’s kinda hard to guess what - if anything - the folks out front want for dessert. Hint: They want something. And second hint: it’s almost certainly chocolate. The four umami dinner chefs came up with a pound cake of dark chocolate and coffee, with a mildly bizarre trio of sesame sherbet, orange marmalade and tamarind curd. Whatever that sounds like to you, it produced nothing but empty dessert plates in Kata Robata’s dining room.

Latin Bites: The Next Generation

If you were among “the few, the proud” to embrace the original Latin Bites Cafe in the tiny corner space that once was Dharma Cafe, then you’re likely to find the new Woodway location bigger, better - and, happily, exactly the same. That’s what I caught myself thinking during dinner last night, in some ways missing the BYOB status of the old joint but rooting for chef Roberto Castre and his partners to make lots of money selling us wine, beer and cocktails. Heck, when the manager brought us a Pisco Sour, the national drink of Castre’s native Peru, I raised a toast to the joys of capitalism.

I’m guessing you know enough about food history to know that potatoes hail from Peru - no, not from Ireland. And that, while most of us think of potatoes as a single thing, there are hundreds if not thousands of types of potatoes grown in Peru to this day. All shapes, all colors, all textures. Which helps explain how potatoes can anchor the Peruvian appetizer above, called causitas. Three little mounds or cakes of whipped potatoes support various salads plus a host of very different Martian-colored sauces that all feel like mayo on your tongue. The one with shrimp escabeche is our favorite.

Let me count… the menu at the new Latin Bites features no fewer than 14 spins on ceviche - here spelled cebiche and logically more in the Peruvian than the Mexican mold. Several of the most popular cebiches feature mixes of seafoods- fish, shrimp, squid, octopus, you name it. But the mood was upon us for shrimp, and this dish did not disappoint. Yes, there are excellent marinated shrimp under all that taste and texture, plus sweet potato, white Peruvian corn and a crunchy roasted version thereof.

Yes, even the main dishes that come with rice on the side come with potatoes in the middle - like this seafood entree called pescado a la chorillana, the pan-seared fish ending up tasting a bit Chinese in spite of itself. Fact is, there are tons of delightful Asian touches in Peruvian food, a “fusion” brought about naturally by millions of immigrants from China and beyond over the decades. To be Peruvian, I gather from Chef Roberto, is to embrace your inner fusion.

There are several dazzlers among the desserts at the new Latin Bites (which, by the way, is at 5709 Woodway, a location that most recently attracted attention as the gutsy but shortlived Rockwood Room). Our favorite finale, though, has to be the Latin Bites Terrine, a frozen layering of mango, chirimoya and white chocolate served with dulce de leche truffles and that glistening tire tread of raspberry coulis.

Terrific Tapas at Austin’s Malaga

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I tasted my life’s first tapas in Spain four decades ago - I loved them then, and I love them now. In the interim, tapas have been the “next big thing” in food several times, without ever actually becoming the next big thing. Yet the basic concept - tasting small plates of many foods instead of one big plate of one thing - has worked its way into our ideas about eating. Yes, even here in Texas. Especially at the 13-year-old Austin tapas destination called Malaga.

With Central Market chef-instructor Nancy Marr at my side - she who makes even me look like I know what I’m doing when I teach cooking classes there - we settled in for a long night of radio, eating, drinking and visits from Malaga executive chef Alejandro Duran. Born in Spain to a Spanish mother but dragged through many regions of Mexico as a kid by his Mexican-agriculture official father, Duran seems the best of both Old World and New. And the tapas he served Nancy and me did too.

This metal tower, usually reserved in fancy seafood houses for those $75 shellfish samplers, here delivers my oldest and most favorite traditional tapa along with, as though to underline my point, something the chef probably thought up day before yesterday. Without a Mexican tortilla in sight, the tortilla Catalan (his version of tortilla espanola) is an omelet by way of a frittata. An egg thing, in other words. The bottom dish offers fire-roasted Spanish piquillo peppers stuffed with fresh goat cheese and capers.

Thankfully tending toward the mild side, goat cheese is a favorite for just about any use at Malaga, including contained in these fried cakes served atop some wonderful sweet red onion marmalade and then drizzled with honey. Atop that is something of a surprise, a few crumbles of dried lavender - like the cheese itself, nothing too overpowering. Duran has a real flair for combinations done with equal parts surprise and restraint.

You know your half-remembered high school Spanish is in over its head when the menu promises calcots y setas a la parilla, beyond guessing that something is going on the grill. The dish is actually a symphony of different tastes and especially textures: grilled asparagus, artichoke hearts, mushrooms, fire-roasted piquillos and spring onions, all done up with toasted Marcona almonds, Cabrales bleu cheese and a bit of Romesco vinaigrette for dipping.

I am definitely one of those guys, as I explained to Nancy with some trepidation, who never met a meatball he didn’t like. So of course I dove head-first into Duran’s albondigas en salsa brava. According to the chef, for every one customer who finds these rounds of beef and pork not fried or “Sicilian” enough, hundreds of others keep coming back for more. The tomato sauce is kicked up with cumin and coriander, definitely putting the brava in this salsa.

In a tapas bar like Malaga, it isn’t about the traditional progression from little appetizers to big entrees, since all the plates are small and intended to gang up on you. Still, I did find one of the things I most wanted to gang up on me: the so-called empanadas Salamanca, named after the fascinating ancient university town. Light years removed from familiar Mexican empanadas, these are light turnovers stuffed with spinach, Mahon cheese and mushrooms. There’s roasted garlic-herb aioli drizzled over the top, plus spicy roasted tomato sauce on the side. In an instant, I who was in Spain forty years ago and Nancy who was there a few months ago both found ourselves in the passionate heart of Spain once again.

Fab Food and Fab Five on Kemah Boardwalk

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The concept of Sunday Funday is alive and well, and - especially during these glory days of spring and presumably fall - living on the Kemah Boardwalk. With temperatures mild during the daylight hours and turning chilly only after dark, the destination on Galveston Bay that used to be for bikers-only has been turned into a kind of Magic Kingdom for restaurants associated with Tilman Fertitta. And in the spirit of a lovely afternoon, that’s not a bad thing.

The modern version of Kemah lets you know it’s a Magic Kingdom because you have to get there by boat - if you want free parking, that is. The lot that doesn’t charge is connected to Tilman’s Boardwalk Empire by a “boat shuttle” that, instead of a 30-minute ride across a lagoon to Mickey’s place in Orlando takes about four minutes to cross maybe 30 feet of not-so-open water. Best of all, the boat deposits you and yours on the boardwalk beside (or maybe behind) the Aquarium Restaurant.

Appropriately on the waterfront, almost every eatery on Kemah Boardwalk serves seafood in some form, much of it delightfully deep-fried. There’s a Landry’s, of course, the place that launched a thousand concepts, in addition to the Aquarium - where you actually watch fish swim around even as you eat their kin. Still, the idea of Tex-Mex sounded right to our little group, launching us in the direction of Cadillac Bar. And that launched us in the direction of this Tortilla Soup, some of the best we’ve ever tried.

The thing about Tex-Mex: it always tastes a lot better than it looks. Here, for instance, is the cheese enchilada plate named for the border town of Laredo - and since the original Cadillac Bar was born on the border, it just kinda made sense. There are several types of enchiladas offered with several types of sauces (including the chili con carne with chopped onions so beloved here in Texas), but this one had more of a red chili (or chile) gravy bookended by rice and refried beans.

And oh yeah… we shouldn’t forget the reason we thought of this Sunday Funday on Kemah Boardwalk in the first place. We wanted to see the Fab Five, one of the better Beatles tribute bands around. In the course of their almost four-hour set (after a performance by Elvis impersonator Vince King, who we want to catch next time), the Fab Five played not only the Fab Four but lots of non-Beatles British Invasion plus even some hits from Motown. Long after the sun slowly sank in the West, folks were dancing and clapping their hands, no doubt feverishly trying to work off the all-too-edible handiwork of Tilman Fertitta.

First Taste of Townhouse in Dallas

I went to check out the new Townhouse Kitchen + Bar at the Dallas Galleria the other night, not because I had some shopping to do but because - like the Monkees in their ’60s theme song - it may be comin’ to your town. In fact, the Dallas restaurant is the first of three scheduled to be up and running in Texas by the end of this summer. The others are, quite happily, slotted to open in Houston and Austin.

Any restaurant that has deviled eggs on the menu has to be at least a little into childhood food nostalgia - and on some dishes Townhouse is a lot into it. Sure, there’s a dizzying variety of popular Latin tastes plus a nifty array of Asian (as you’ll see). But American food is the key to understanding the high-quality but also high-casual cooking emerging from this kitchen. These deviled eggs, by the way, are excellent, mostly the classic mix of mayo-lush and mustard-tangy but given a kick by the Asian hot stuff called sriracha.

And… speaking of Asian, one of the menu’s acts of pure genius is something called kung pao shrimp tacos. Come on! That’s like three of my favorite things, in a single dish. The spicy shrimp with peanuts are out in full force, all ablaze in the hot-meets-cool collision that makes Vietnamese and Thai food so terrific. And after all, few actions make anything taste better than putting it inside a taco.

Nobody doesn’t like a quesadilla, right? And nobody doesn’t like barbecue either. Those seem to be the deep truths behind the duck barbecue quesadillas. It’s cheese, of course, that glues the two tortillas together. But inside of that lurks some of the deepest, sweetest and smokiest meat you’ll ever slip into your mouth. There’s an extra wonderful taste here that I never could quite identify, and I ate a bunch in the effort to do that for you. Neither the menu nor the chef was in any mood to give away secrets.

Just as there’s the Better Burger movement making the rounds in America, there’s what I hereby dub the Grownup Mac-and-Cheese Movement. You know the type: usually dripping with obnoxious truffle oil, a product that most actual truffle lovers (like me) despise. In this case, the mac and cheese is classically yellow and extremely cheesy, with no truffle oil in sight. And for a few extra dollars, you can make it almost an entree by adding applewood-smoked bacon or shrimp.

Side dishes, it turns out, are one of the strongest suits at Townhouse Kitchen + Bar. When you’re not shoveling mac and cheese in the general direction of your lips, you really need to try the hash browns. Or, to be precise, the Jalapeno Bacon Hash Browns. I ate as much of these as I could, then took the rest home. In my kitchen, the leftovers will soon find a home in what might be the best potato omelet ever.

With everything else Townhouse has going for it, including a fun wine list and even funner cocktails, you’d expect large, indulgent desserts. And you would be correct. The one we sampled was all that and more - involving, like so many other dishes here from start to finish, a salty-sweet flourish of bacon. These are “bacon doughnuts,” fried balls of sweet dough in a sugary caramel sauce plus bacon crumbles on top, topped by the perfect vanilla ice cream. Maybe your mouth needs something as simple as vanilla ice cream after an assault of barbecue duck quesadillas and kung pao shrimp tacos!

Rethinking the NYC ‘Hotel Restaurant’

When most of us think of a hotel in New York City, we think of a place that’s big and bustling, with maybe 1,500 to 2,000 rooms. And when we think of a hotel restaurant - or “F&B outlet” outlet in the industry’s parlance - we think of much the same: something large, loud and forgettable. With only 66 room spread over a very narrow 24 stories between Fifth and Madison avenues, the Gotham Hotel on 46th Street has every reason to rethink how we eat while visiting New York as well as how we sleep.

With new executive chef Nickolas Kipper in the kitchen, the “hotel restaurant” called Tenpenny is emerging as not only a place worth a couple meals from the folks renting beds upstairs but even from guests of other hotels and from the toughest nut to crack of all - New Yorkers themselves. Dinner last night, which started with an amazing salad of both fresh and dried components, plus some house-cured bacon with grilled rustic bread - left no mystery as to why a crowd with all the choices in the world might well choose to eat here.

Though the name Kipper, as the saying goes, doesn’t end in a vowel, there is considerable mastery of the Italian tradition coming out in dish after dish. Pastas at Tenpenny get treated as entrees for the most part, which of course isn’t traditional; but this chef goes the extra mile to make sure things are interesting enough we can finish a whole big plate. This mushroom risotto, for instance, arrives topped with enough forest mushrooms to cover a large pizza, in addition to a crispy golden crumble made from Parmesan cheese.

Though my heart has been known to belong to mushroom risotto, with only asparagus risotto a close second, I was excited to sample Kipper’s “porchetta ravioli.” A very special edition of roast pork, so-called “porchetta Romana” is served everywhere in Rome, from street stands to fine-dining palaces. That very same seasoned and caramelized pork finds its way inside ravioli at Tenpenny, and boy am I glad it does.

Call it the Sick-of-Chilean-Sea-Bass Vote, but I sure do seem to be seeing (and eating) a lot of halibut in restaurants these days. You might say it’s become my default fish, the way salmon is for everybody except me. Tenpenny has a delicious and interesting rendition of halibut - pan-seared, of course, served over parsnip puree pretending to be mashed potatoes and some lovely sauteed Swiss chard. That “ice cream” on top of the fish, well, isn’t. It’s a tart-sweet mousse made from cranberries.

If you need further proof that we’re not in hotel restaurant Kansas anymore, just check out Tenpenny’s intriguing rendition of ribeye. Far from being the “big steak” that eateries inside hotels had to have for most of the 20th century, this ribeye is closely trimmed of fat, grilled and sliced, then set atop a Spanish-tinged romesco sauce. Vegetables abound, including orange-glazed chanterelles and butter-braised baby leeks. Chefs cook with a lot of hyphens these days.

And if you, like most people in Tenpenny’s dining room last night, are trolling for something sweet, head directly for the folksy-sounding huckleberry pie. There… now Chef Nickolas has me using hyphens too. Though folksy-sounding, the dessert is pretty much a class act, more of a delightfully warm crumble than a pie, with a caramel sauce underneath and vanilla ice cream melting on top. The way mealtimes are going at the Gotham Hotel on 46th Street, I may never “go out” to dinner in New York City again

Dang! There’s Great BBQ in New York City!

After driving 14,783 miles around Texas to write a book on the state’s barbecue, I certainly never expected to discover some of the best smoked brisket, pulled pork and ribs of my life in New York City. Then again, I can take some solace knowing that the guy who gave the world Dinosaur BBQ did so originally up in Syracuse, and that he did so only after riding his motorcycle on several tasting tours of Texas and the rest of the South.

To say that the Harlem - yes folks, that Harlem! - outpost of Dinosaur serves Texas BBQ would not be accurate. There’s a whole lot of big Texas flavor served up ’round the clock here; but that doesn’t keep its founders from celebrating the best of Memphis and Kansas City, Mississippi and Alabama, even the far-distant BBQ mystery known as The Carolinas. If it’s BBQ and it’s delicious, it’s probably on the menu. And having tried a few places alleging to make BBQ around touristy Midtown and its Times Square, I’ll now choose a subway, bus or taxi up to Harlem every time.

The folks at Dinosaur BBQ know their way around the Texas Hill Country, and they saw the way the old German or Czech butcher families resisted being in the “restaurant business,” instead of the “meat business.” That, for instance, is why such places in Texas have been slow to introduce appetizers, like that would mean actually taking care of people. There’s no such silly reluctance at Dinosaur, where you can get a sampler of starters that includes everything from kicked-up deviled eggs to super-spicy boiled shrimp, with stops for fried green tomatoes along the way.

When it comes to sides, same story. The next time some Texas BBQ joint offers what amounts to a choice of white bread or Saltines, I’ll wistfully remember the embarassment of riches alongside the meats at Dinosaur. The “salt potatoes” belong to Syracuse as much as wings belong to Buffalo, and they are terrific, but everything else is delightfully all over the map. There’s lush mac and cheese, an amazing swirl of sweet potatoes and even a BBQ “fried rice” that keeps one foot firmly planted in Chinese food, where I say it belongs. Most things come with a Deep South vision of cornbread that’s hot, sweet and moist.

There are significant desserts offered at Dinosaur BBQ in Harlem, some dipping deliciously into the soul food tradition, along with a list of local and other craft beers that just won’t stop - including two brews I tried that are made in Syracuse just for these restaurants. On the sweet side of things, the customer favorite may well be the key lime pie, which may strike you as oddly non-Texas and even non-Alabama, until you remember that guys traveling the country on motorcycles couldn’t possibly resist heading down that highway of bridges to Key West.

Totally different but every bit as good is the new apple cake with a whiskey caramel sauce. Talk about tasting homemade! And somehow, the whole thing kept coming into my mind with the word “Dutch” in front of it… thinking of Johnny Appleseed and his adventures through countrysides tamed by Dutch farmers, thinking of “Harlem” itself, even thinking of a city long ago known as New Amsterdam before the redcoats decided they couldn’t leave well enough alone.

At Dinosaur BBQ in New York, just as at any BBQ joint worth its dry rub in Texas, if you ask enough questions about wood, seasoning, time and temperature, you’ll probably luck out and get a tour of the pits. Here, a company stalwart named Garth seasons meat just beginning to get real good, the way each of perhaps 30 items at our table already was. And since there’s a new Dinosaur opening in Newark, with others on tap for Connecticut and, yes, even Brooklyn… this Syracuse-born BBQ chain has no intention of letting us ever “fuh-get-about-it.”

‘A Whole New World’ at Houston’s Aladdin

In the weird way these things work out sometimes, I’d eaten so-called “Mediterranean cuisine” all over the Mediterranean itself - including forays into all corners of Turkey, plus Morocco and Egypt, plus the melting pot that is Israel - before I made it to Aladdin Mediterranean Cuisine at the fabled corner of Westheimer and Montrose.

And since that corner is about to get even more fabled with the opening of Uchi, I thought it was high time yesterday that I let my friend Samira Anne Salman and restaurant owner Ali Nahhus show me the Mediterranean ropes, Texas style. Aladdin itself is clean, comfortable and unadorned, built to be affordable in other words. And the food, delivered as a kind of far-out version of the cafeteria, is amazing.

In these travels, though meats like chicken and lamb figure in many memories, what I remember most are the wonderful vegetables. And even more specifically, the salads. People in the eastern Med don’t have a salad for an entree or even as an appetizer - they have a roomful of the darn things, mostly chopped and carrying the telltale regional signature of olive oil mixed with lemon juice (instead of vinegar) and plenty of fresh herbs led off unexpectedly by mint. As such, their salads have a light, cleansing quality that keeps you munching on them throughout your meal.

Meats kept hot for the choosing at Aladdin (there actually is a “1 meat, 4 veg” special, just like in old-time lunchrooms across the South), include several versions of chicken, beef and lamb, ranging from quick-grilled to slow-braised. And there are a couple impressive spins on what the Greeks, and therefore most diners in Houston, know as the gyro - apparently a Greek word first used for this dish in Chicago. All the meats are delicious, sided by a puffed-out bread that combines my favorite aspects of Greek pita and Indian naan, plus salads like Lebanese taboulleh and another one built on chick peas and what, for all the world, seemed to be pinto beans.

And there are some terrifically exotic meatballs in gravy, meatballs made with lots of spinach in the mix. In fact, the next time somebody tells me, “Eat your spinach,” I’m not going anywhere near Turkey, Morocco, Egypt or Israel. I’m heading straight to the corner of Westheimer and Montrose.

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