Introducing Restaurant Reviews by Jerry L. Nelson -- First Up: BLANCO ROAD BAR AND GRILL

The intrepid staff at Needtovent's Intergalactic Headquarters is always on the search for a good meal. In fact, it can be safely said that we endeavor to literally have a banquet every night of the week. That's why we have secured the services of Jerry L. Nelson, our very own Captain of Culinary Candor, to discover for us and our loyal readers new gastronomic delights. Alas, Mr. Nelson's recent foray into the local restaurant scene failed to make a favorable impression. We hope you will enjoy Mr. Nelson's initial installment anyway. If so, please let us know...

BLANCO ROAD BAR AND GRILL

Restaurant Review by Jerry L. Nelson

Let me introduce myself. I am a foodie...that is, someone who likes and appreciates good food...usually no matter what kind it is. There are reservations, of course…liver should not be eaten by human beings...apparently this goes back to my childhood (for which I will blame a lot of things). My taste runs from steak to burgers and all of the stops in between. As a quick side note, steaks and burgers should only be eaten medium-rare. I challenge you to find a good burger place that will cook a burger medium-rare. The customer more often than not will be told it is against the law to serve a hamburger rare or medium-rare. To this I say Crap Salad...one of my father’s favorite expressions. I’ll explain just what it is some other time (no, it isn’t what you might think). The restaurant is just trying to avoid a suit for starting an e-coli outbreak to which I say, if they had good sanitation and food handling practices in their kitchen, that would not be a problem. If a restaurant refuses to cook a burger the way the customer wants it, don’t walk, run from the place. They don’t deserve your money.

While my parents were both good cooks, they had their limitations. About fifteen years ago I sought to overcome some of my limitations by indenturing myself to a Master French Chef for nearly two years in order to become a better cook. Let me define “indenturing” as working six nights a week in the kitchen of a four star French restaurant for free. I learned a hell of a lot. Now I can ruin food in at least three different languages.

In my quest for knowledge and gluttony I have read thousands of restaurant reviews and marveled at the glowing prose the reviewer spews forth in an effort to apparently win some kind of award. Are most of these people pompous?...you bet your ass, always using phrases like “velvety smooth sauce” or “light-as-air buttercream”. My position is, it’s either good or it isn’t and there are reasons for both. I will try to convey to you what was good about a food or restaurant or what was bad and why you should not waste your time or money going there.

There are certain words and phrases used in cooking...most of them come from the French. I will avoid these whenever possible, but when I must wear the mantle of a food snob at least you’ll get fair warning and some kind of definition. For too many years restaurant reviews have been written to appeal to the kind of people F. Scott Fitzgerald wrote about...the rich. Supposedly he thought they were different from you and me. Well, let me assure you, the Donald probably doesn’t have any more taste for fine foods than I do. Yes, he does have a bit more money but we all know money won’t buy any amount of taste, as evidenced by his hair style...but I digress.

This first installment begins innocently enough with a friend and a coupon for a free appetizer with the purchase of two entrées. Lesson learned up front. Avoid any place that has to give away food in order to sell food. If it’s any good at all, it will sell itself. You can sell steak in an outhouse if it is properly prepared.

The establishment in question is the Blanco Road Bar and Grill located at 30690 Blanco Road in Bulverde, Texas. The coupon was a slickly designed mailer with great color pictures making one think this was a place of quality. Bar and Grill -- brings up images of a highly polished wood bar with mirrored back bar full of the finest spirits and wines available in the area and an array of imported beers chilling in the back room just waiting to be brought forth from the tap. Guess again, Jesse. When we walked in we were greeted by a woman who had a deeper cigarette and whiskey voice than any radio announcer could ever hope for. Had I not been aware of my surroundings I would have thought I had walked onto the radio set of the old Buster Brown Show and Froggy was getting ready to plunk his magic twanger. Lined up at the bar were five likely locals sucking down your basic Coors Light and Miller Lite. Madam cajones grande' spotted our coupon right away and commented we must be there for the free appetizer. We couldn’t deny it.

We were seated at your typical Lucy and Ricky kitchenette (Formica table top and chair with chrome and thinly padded seat). Miss Sharp Eyes came over to us and proceeded to tell us what was no longer on the menu...most of what was listed on the coupon. It seems they discontinued most of the entrees a few weeks ago. She said they weren’t selling very well. No steaks of any kind...the very things that brought us there. (Bad sign). Basically, the only things left on the menu were burgers, fries and, oh, the appetizers...nachos, fried mushrooms, jalapeno poppers of three or four different kinds, fried cheese sticks and chicken wings...you get the picture...whatever Ben E. Keith or Sysco Food Service sells.

Friend and I opted for the Bean and Cheese Nachos with the addition of ground beef and jalapenos...they can’t be real nachos without jalapenos. Friend also wanted an order of Onion Rings and we agreed to share both appetizers. We had not yet made up our minds which of the remaining entrees to have...perhaps I would throw caution to the wind and order the Ruben Sandwich if it was still on the menu. I hadn’t yet mustered up the nerve to ask, fearing disappointment.

I’m not much of a beer drinker so my snobbishness peeked out from beneath Lucy and Ricky’s table and I perused the wine list. Yes, they had a printed wine list...more than likely left over from their brief attempt to sell steaks because the first two wines I requested they did not have. Hell, I wasn’t asking for a ’47 Bordeaux from Chateau Lafite-Rothschild, all I wanted was something drinkable. They finally managed to find my fourth request...a simple Pinot Noir at a very inflated price of $36 bucks. My friend had a beer...he has much simpler tastes. The nachos were deposited on our table. Right away I could see this was a mistake. The cheese was beginning to blacken where it had been left under the broiler too long and dried out. The hamburger/beef was probably left over from that day’s lunch tacos, although I didn’t see them on the menu, the beans that were spread on the chips were from a can...nothing you can do about that unless you go to the trouble of mashing your own and I just didn’t see the Blanco Road Bar and Grill doing that. Friend and I choked down what we could. Friend even had another beer in an effort to wash away some of the edges of the place. At this point we were waiting on the onion rings. Maybe they would be our salvation. Well, the rings never appeared nor did our salvation. We quickly dumped the idea of entrees and I asked for the check...$48 and some change...tipped way too much and headed for the door when Raspy asked me for my number. I slipped her a business card and wrote a fictitious number on the back of it. I definitely did not want her calling the house. Had I thought quicker...it was probably the wine that dulled my reaction time...I would have given her Friend’s number, instead. After all, this place was his idea.

I must say, though, in defense of the Blanco Road Bar and Grill, the highlight of the evening was when frog in her throat’s daughter came in with her new puppy...a miniature something or other. She prefaced introducing the puppy to us with “I know this is against the law but I just couldn’t leave her outside alone. She’s so tiny." Had the daughter not been clutching the animal next to her rather ample cleavage I wouldn’t have looked twice...or maybe it was three times...I lose count when I drink wine. Unless you enjoy wasting your money on bad food and overpriced wine, don’t spend a dime at the Blanco Road Bar and Grill. They did have a slick marketing piece, though. It brought us in.

TAQUERIA PATY

Review by Jerry L. Nelson

A food revolution is sweeping the nation….in the form of a new version of meals on wheels. Now don’t confuse this with the charitable version, good thing that is. This is one being fostered by the food industry in the broadcasting world and a lot of chefs who apparently can’t get a gig in a regular restaurant….so they go out and create a restaurant on wheels….lots of “done over” Airstream trailers outfitted with restaurant quality kitchens instead of the sleeping and living areas and then gathered into one locale and serving up to the, often giddy, public, a variety of ethnic choices….My, what a wonderfully new idea….to this, I can only say balderdash.

Trust me on this, folks. We’ve had this idea around for years here in south central Texas….and I do mean years. The taco wagon has been a roadside fixture for longer than I care to think about at my age. I challenge you to travel the outlying roadways and non-major highways around any town or city of size and NOT see some enterprising soul trying to make a buck on the side of the road selling all manner of TEX-MEX delights from some form of kitchen on wheels. New idea?....crap salad…..but I digress.


Having grown up in the shadow of San Antonio and, even as a teenager, made the required pilgrimage to the border and sampled street food at three in the morning when all you could think about was solid food in your belly regardless of the absence of neighborhood dogs, nothing compares in taste, quality and plain ol’ goodness to finding your own personal roadside taqueria. Now you don’t have to agree with me on this, for I do want you to seek one out and make it your favorite, but I have serendipitously stumbled across one I feel is unmatched in the area of Canyon Lake….and there are several to choose from….Tacqueria Paty….with one “T”. Her real name is Patricia, but I asked one of her erstwhile assistants one day why the one “t” and was told Paty just liked the look of it….so….Taqueria Paty, just south of F.M. 306 on U. S. 281 in the parking lot of the Spring Branch Bowling Club, open Monday through Saturday from 6:30 a.m. till 1:30 p.m. Breakfast fare is the big rush, but at any time during those hours you will see a parking lot variety of pick ups filled with construction workers to Mercedes filled with tourists needing sustenance before a day of tubing.

No matter what your want, she and her head cook, Lupe, will crank out some of the greasiest, drippiest, tastiest tacos you could ever wrap your mouth around. The menu isn’t just limited to the ubiquitous breakfast taco either. You can find a selection that will rival any seated service restaurant, from crispy tacos to mini-tacos to tortas to combination offerings. Paty offers eight different kinds of meat tacos with picadillo being my personal favorite along with carne guisada (there’s a big difference between Guisada and Asada….I learned the hard way), plus Chicharron’s, Migas, Papas Rancheras, Machacado and more. Saturdays see Barbacoa by the pound and for Pete’s sake, when you’ve had too much cerveza the night before, Paty and Lupe offer up some of the best Menudo around. Oh, you can be a weenie and get the Gringo version of Tex Mex by ordering a bean and cheese or potato and egg taco, but until you have had her chorizo and egg with salsa verde, you haven’t lived. Some of her extras include guacamole and pico de gallo with more cilantro in it than I’ve ever seen served on one taco. Next time you find yourself tooling down 281 just south of F. M. 306 and you have a “hankerin” for the original “meals on wheels,” pull on over into the Spring Branch Bowling Club parking lot and check out Taqueria Paty. As she says….if you want an order to go, have a compliment or even a complaint, give her a call at 830-885-2034. Try her offerings and you won’t really care what they’re doing in the big city with their fancy Airstreams….Paty’s been doing it for years, simply and fantastically.

Taqueria Paty
281 North
1.6 miles south of F. M. 306

BELLA NAPOLI

Review by Jerry L. Nelson


Just like a poltergeist, I’m baaaack! Where have I been, you have every right to ask. Well, it’s like this….I decided to quite being a lump on the couch and try and reverse sixty two years of abuse and damage in just a few short months….hired a trainer, went on a diet and lost fifty pounds (oh, I know right where they are if I ever need to fit into that XL wardrobe I now have in the closet), and have started running again. I only hope my new lifestyle with all the exercise will offset the effects of my passion for food and good wine….but I digress.

My first effort in my comeback was quite interesting and pleasantly surprising. The mantra of the real estate business has always been “location, location, location,” and you have to feel for the three previous tenants of this rather plain from the outside building on 281 North which now houses restaurant number four in just the last three or so years. The first attempt was just a pizza joint, the second tried to combine pizzas with an arcade for the young set, while the third effort was intended to be a steak house….all three failed in just a matter of months. So here comes number four, this time concentrating on pasta and a whole lot more, but offering pizza for those apparently few who just have to have their pepperoni fix once in a while.


Enter Chef Ray Memedovski and his lovely companion Michelle. Ray is Albanian who grew up in Macedonia. This is not the first time I have run across that combination in the Italian restaurant field….seems the Albanians must have a bit of an edge when it comes to cooking Italian. There is a history behind Ray and Michelle….seems Ray is Gino’s cousin….that would be Gino, owner of the Italian Garden in Hancock….in fact Ray and Gino, along with the lovely Michelle, opened Tuscany a while back, just down the road at the bridge. As in so many business opportunities with relatives, there are many rough sailings and then a divorce. But this has turned out to be a good thing because it gave Ray the chance to open up Bella Napoli and we reap the benefits of that.

I recently asked my Italian friend from Boston if he wanted to join me for an evening there. His immediate response was, “I can already tell what it will be like, ordinary, at best.” I reminded him that if we failed to go check it out, Bella Napoli would turn out to be that hidden gem and we would have overlooked it. He still wasn’t convinced but accompanied me just the same. His first reaction upon entering was “WOW”….what great decorating of the interior (thank you Michelle)….bright contrasting colors and even two smaller, separate dining areas for group functions, plus a soon to be operational wine and beer bar. One of those benefits right now, since he still doesn’t have a liquor license, is you can bring your own alcohol at no charge….not even a corkage fee. Needles to say, we were prepared for that eventuality and had not one but two bottles of grape juice with us. The wait staff is cheery and pleasant to look at. (Can’t believe it has taken me four paragraphs to get to the food….must be my new lifestyle….yuck.)


Understand, I have been there three times by now, along with guests, and we have all had something different each time. Let me not forget, my Italian friend was very apologetic to me and most impressed with Chef Ray’s offerings our first time there. It did turn out to be a very nice little “hidden gem.” At the top of my list would be the Veal Marsala, while one of my companions had the Veal Picatta. The veal should be a dish unto itself for it is some of the best restaurant veal I have ever been served….thin and fork tender, just a hint of crispness from being pan sautéed....and the Marsala sauce is simply outstanding. Include the mound of mushrooms served over all and you have one of the best entrees in this area. Ditto on the Picatta with capers. I’m not a fan of angel hair pasta for it is usually overcooked, something easy to do since it is so thin, but the accompanying angel hair was perfectly al dente.

On my second visit I had the Linguini and clams in white sauce….now don’t expect some kind of Alfredo sauce. This is called white sauce to differentiate it from a traditional red sauce. The white sauce is more of a clear broth made from the clam juices and some garlic….delicious. Bella Napoli offers the ubiquitous spaghetti and meat concoctions, but if you do have to have “spaget,” be sure to have the meat balls….some of the most tender you will ever slide over your lips. In my first visit with Italian friend, we shared an appetizer of muscles in wine and garlic broth….made two mistakes here: one...shouldn’t have shared….wanted them all for myself; second was asking for the muscles -- while they were certainly good and fresh (not frozen as a lot of restaurants serve), I should have just ordered a bowl of the wine and garlic broth for dipping with the homemade bread served up when we first were seated, or perhaps a straw would have been even better.

On my most recent visit with the child bride of over 43 years (yes, she was finally in town long enough to go somewhere with me), Ray came by our table and asked what she was hungry for. Her response was for him to make her whatever he wanted. The end result was the biggest plate of shrimp and chicken Tetrazinni I have ever seen served in the free world. I almost had to carry her out. The desserts do not disappoint either, as the Tiramisu is exceedingly fresh and Michelle makes occasional cakes from scratch. You have to roll the dice on that as she doesn’t have any formal schedule yet, but I have had her Red Velvet and her Italian Cream efforts and am looking forward to the next. Even the cannolis are quite tasty….would love to try Ray’s homemade filling if I could just convince him to make me some….maybe if I bought the ingredients?

I have only one real negative and one perceived one, but we all know perception is reality, so….In my first visit with Italian friend we also ordered the calamari appetizer. Unfortunately, we both found it to be very tough and chewy, something that happens from overcooking, but a minor disappointment considering all of the “little gems” we did discover. The perceived negative I can blame on my new lifestyle….Ray just serves too much food….and we wonder why we are fast becoming a nation of obese slobs, like I was for so long (Ok, no more soap box). I drive by Bella Napoli several times a week and have never failed to see cars in the parking lot. Maybe he has beaten the location curse of the past poltergeists because once you have been, YOU’LL be baaaack.


Bella Napoli
13140 Highway 281 North
Spring Branch, TX
830-228-4333
Open 7 days a week
Beginning at 11:00 a.m.

THE IRONDALE CAFE -- The Worst Meal Ever???

Over the past sixty-plus years I have visited every state in the union and thirty-seven foreign countries. As a result, I have eaten at literally thousands of eateries -- ranging from among the fanciest and most expensive to some of the smallest dives well off the beaten track. Most of the time the food is pretty good, but there have been a number of regrettable meals which remain seared in my memory.

For example, there's the Peking Duck I was served at a restaurant in Beijing that was so fatty I named the poor bird "Arbuckle." If nothing else, this culinary experience made me realize that if reincarnation is true, I absolutely, positively do not want to come back as a liposuction machine.

I also remember a pu pu platter served in Austin that was so shockingly awful, it almost killed a Needtovent staffer. It was worse than poo-poo, that's for sure.

The same holds true for any number of "mixed grill" offerings served while attending the Varna International Film Festival in Bulgaria. Even Alfred Packer wouldn't have been able to digest the various meats which comprised this ubiquitous entree during Todor Zhivkov's reign as President of that impoverished country.

And, of course, there is the Olive Garden -- but I'll discuss that topic at another time.

Which brings me to the Irondale Cafe located just outside the city limits of Birmingham, Alabama. Originally a hot dog stand, which later added hamburgers, barbecue and a variety of sandwiches to the menu, the business was purchased by Miss Bess Fotenberry in 1932, and shortly thereafter the Irondale Cafe (aka the original Whistle Stop) became well-known for its signature dish -- fried green tomatoes.


As it turns out, Bess Fotenberry's niece is Fannie Flagg and her book featuring the restaurant became a best seller. And in January, 1992, the movie version of FRIED GREEN TOMATOES premiered at the Cobb Galleria Theatre in Birmingham. The place became an over-night sensation and tourists from around the world flocked to this small eatery, with most ordering fried green tomatoes. After all, why not? Even the local newspaper ran an article with the headline: "Seen the movie? Now taste the title."

So far, so good.


Which brings me to the evening of November 7, 2010, when yours truly, accompanied by the same Needtovent staffer who barely survived the dreaded pu pu platter, decided to eat at what some consider to be an American icon. Icon my ass, what "icon" tell you is that this was among the worst meals either of us have ever experienced.

I'll be brief -- the breading on my catfish was muculent -- there's simply no other way to describe what was on the plate. As for the celebrated fried green tomatoes -- they were soggy and the only taste associated with them came from the oil used. Even the dinner rolls were terrible -- being greasier than a Puerto Rican's pillow.

To be totally fair, the service, such as it existed, was adequate.

Maybe this wasn't the single worst meal I have ever experienced. Then again, maybe it was. But what I can say for certain is that you must not be mislead by the dozens of testimonials appearing on the Irondale Cafe's website -- they constitute the largest collection of fiction this side of Oxford University.

PALMER'S RESTAURANT

Review by Jerry L. Nelson

Dorothy Parker is reputed to have once said to one of her friends at the Algonquin Round Table, and I may be paraphrasing here, “If you don’t have something nice to say about someone, come sit over here by me,” but you get my drift, I hope. It’s amazing how the brain connects things. As I wrote that line about Ms. Parker, I flashed on the time when my wife, sister-in-law and niece, in an effort to save some money on decorating our wine cellar, stenciled the floor to look like a hand crafted tile floor imported from Italy and laid by an artesian. As they stood there rather frazzled looking after a day of backbreaking effort, waiting on edge for my compliments, the best I could come up with was “Well, it doesn’t suck.” I’ve always been a quick thinker when pressed into a corner. As time has passed since that creative phraseology crossed over my lips, I now rather enjoy walking into the cellar and glancing down at the floor knowing there’s not another one like it. But I digress.


Our most recent culinary excursion, “our” being friend and me, again sans spouses, was to Palmer’s Restaurant, Bar, and Courtyard in San Marcos, located on the corner of Ranch Road 12, also known as Moore Street, and Hutchinson, just a few blocks around the corner from the Court House Square. The first thing you’ll notice about Palmer’s is that you won’t notice it. For more than thirty years it has occupied this greenery covered corner lot and I must admit I have passed by for years and never really saw it.


Not being deterred by its lack of identity, Friend and I ventured in one recent fall evening and were given our requested seats in the courtyard, as the weather was seemingly perfect for us. Little did we know, there were creatures lurking in the bushes for which it was also perfect, as we became the main course for hundreds of non-discerning mosquitoes. Fighting them off long enough to enjoy a very nice Grilled Tuna appetizer ($8.00) we retreated into the dining area of the bar and were seated at a small table near a very large circular fireplace, fortunately not in operation at the time, but sure to take the chill out of a cold, winter evening.

Once our waiter found us, the evening continued with dinner. Friend requested the Grilled Chicken with mixed veggies and a rice pilaf ($16.95). It really looked good, right down to the grill marks on the chicken breast. Friend was not disappointed. The flavor and texture were quality as well.


I opted for the Bone in Pork Chop. It came with your standard garlic mashies and surprisingly good corn niblits, not cut from the cob, and most likely previously frozen, but none the less, quite good and reasonably priced at $18.95. Since Friend had chicken and I had pork, we compromised on a soft White Horse Pinot Noir with which to swill it all down. A good choice it turned out for both of us.

Wanting to try as much as we could, we requested dessert menus. It’s beginning to seem as if more and more restaurants are getting their dessert ideas from the same shows on the food channel. Nearly every place you go these days offers what’s becoming standard choices of Carrot Cake or Key Lime Pie and some form of chocolate decadence. I guess the two of us are falling into a rut as we ordered the Key Lime and the Carrot Cake ($6.00 each). Nothing outstanding here but not disappointing at the same time -- adequate for lack of a better description.


Overall, a pleasant foray, not into the bowels of culinary hell but a bit short of heaven at the same time. Most of our experience was enjoyable and the prices were reasonable. Service was smooth and polite.

I guess I can only equate our experience with my pseudo tile floor. The more I think about it, the more pleasant it becomes; some place I’ll enjoy returning to because it didn’t suck.

MIKE'S IN THE VILLAGE

Review by Jerry L. Nelson

As a small child back in the fifties I always marveled at how far away certain places were. It took days for my parents to drive us to my Aunt’s house for Christmas Eve, or at least it seemed like it even though we were only about forty miles away in reality. The Saturday morning trips during the summer to my Grandmother’s house in San Antonio to mow her lawn were an all day affair…just getting there. And the town of Bulverde (was there a real town or was it just some place on a map?)…Fuhgeddaboutit. Bulverde, or as the locals would say, BulWerde, was some place way far away…on the other side of the world. For that reason my parents never took me there and never went there themselves.

Thanks to the current trend of invading the hill country and depleting the Edwards Aquifer to nothing more than a trickle in Landa Park in New Braunfels, Bulverde now boasts subdivision after subdivision of multi-acre ranchettes brimming over with wannabe Texans. But I digress.


With growth come people. With people comes the need for places to dine out. Bulverde, being on the outer edge of the north side of San Antonio, has experienced phenomenal growth over recent years. Unfortunately, the dining options have not kept up in comparable numbers…but those numbers are gradually growing with the recent opening of Mike’s in the Village located on Bulverde Road just west of U.S. 281…in what area residents call "The Village."

Mike Romano came to this area from New Orleans pre-Katrina and had a successful catering business for a number of years before he decided to venture into the world of restaurant ownership…hence, Mike’s in the Village, his first stand-alone effort.


Mike stopped by Friend’s and my table on a recent lunch excursion to his newly opened effort. He’s a likable chap and I hope he succeeds because I’m selfish…I like to eat and, for the most part, his fare was quality. Friend started things off with a choice of the Tortilla Soup for an appetizer (does everyone serve Tortilla Soup?). While not “blow your socks off," it was adequate. Friend commented it had just a hint of a “Sherry” taste to it…certainly a unique twist to what has become a standard in the area.


Our comely sever, Melissa, presented our entrees…Friend’s was Fried Catfish while I went for the Chili Relleno…not because I can’t live without Chili Rellenos, but more because of the description on the menu. It was described as being covered in Filo dough rather than battered and deep fried and the Poblano pepper was stuffed, yes, stuffed, not just filled, with a meat and multiple cheese mixture…something you don’t find too often. Most Poblanos are merely cheese filled and remind me of overgrown “poppers”.


The only complaint Friend had was relating to the size of his serving. He felt two planks of fish would have been more adequate. He commented on this to “Mrs.” Mike and was assured it would be taken under consideration. His side of fries (which should have been homemade onion rings) were fresh cut, not frozen, and very close to genuine pomme frites…just a bit overly crisp.


My Chili Relleno was incredible…no fried batter to obscure the taste of the pepper, rather a thin layer of Filo dough placed over the pepper and baked. The flavor of the pepper was sweet and bitter at the same time…a wonderful combination…plus, it had been seeded, allowing one to eat more of it. And the filling was just that, filling…and good. It came with black beans topped with, as Mike described it, a salsa pico, which helped the beans go down a bit easier. Very tasty. We washed all of this down with two different wines…Friend had a Cabernet Sauvignon, once again an establishment not having his first choice, and I swilled down an Argentine imitation of a New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc called UMA. Where was Letterman when you needed him?

What’s a good lunch without dessert? The lunch menu listed three options for us…bread pudding, key lime pie and the seemingly traditional crème brulee. Unfortunately, the bread pudding was still in the oven so we asked for one each of the remaining two. Friend went for the key lime and I took on the crème brulee. Now understand, I make a pretty respectable brulee myself, so I was going into this with a bit of an advantage over Mike…and, unfortunately, the first one I was served was less than good. The caramelized sugar topping was not…it was extremely grainy and not crunchy at all…and the custard was broken and had the texture of small grain cottage cheese due to the fact it was either cooked at too hot a temperature (optimum is 325 degrees) or it was left in the oven too long…both will do it. The second one I was served was no better. Friend’s comment about his key lime pie was it was a bit too "limey" giving it a high “pucker quotient”. I sampled it and must disagree. I thought it was perfect…but then, I guess that’s what makes a horse race. Next time I’ll have the bread pudding. It has to be great…after all Mike’s from Naw’lins.


The score for Bulverde dining now stands at five reviews and four recommendations. Interestingly, the one place I would not recommend, I have heard, has recently closed. I guess there is some justice after all. Who woulda thunk it fifty years ago when this place was on the other side of the world?

MY PLACE

Review by Jerry L. Nelson

Like the quest for the seven cities of Cibola where, when found, untold riches await the discoverer, I too have been on my personal quest…not tilting at windmills nor do I have a personal Sancho Panza to pick up the pieces when things go asunder…just me and Friend now and then, one whom I can count on to be there through the good meals and the bad meals. It’s been nearly four years of “bad” meals since the child bride of now more than forty years and I returned home to the hill country where I was born, raised and am now getting re-acquainted with. When I left this area in 1968, my hometown boasted a population of slightly under 15,000 residents of various extraction…mostly German and Mexican…the word Hispanic had yet to be invented. It’s now 2008, and that little town’s population has soared to over 50,000…mostly Houstonians. But I digress.


The previously mentioned “bad meals” consisted of not being able to buy a decent hamburger. Living in Dallas for thirty-five years has both advantages and disadvantages. The disadvantage is living in Dallas for thirty-five years, but this is outweighed by the advantage of having access to some of the finest restaurants in Texas, particularly when it comes to being able to order a “proper” hamburger. Now you may not use the words “fine restaurant” and “hamburger” in the same sentence and I will be the first to offer that a five-star French restaurant is probably not the place to order up a greasy, juicy, drippy, hearty hamburger…but then neither are most of the places in this area that try to pass themselves off as burger joints. When I talk hamburger, I mean greasy, juicy, drippy, and hearty…and most importantly, cooked medium rare so it will be greasy, juicy, drippy and hearty. You can’t do this with a paper thin patty and that seems to be the norm in this area of Texas. My search for the quintessential “burger joint” continued most recently in what was formerly a Casey’s Barbeque located on North 281 in Bulverde. Does the newly named ”My Place” serve up a proper hamburger that meets the above criteria?


Friend and I started with appetizers served by Sara (no "H" she proudly told us). The chips and queso were pretty good. Being brave and the fact that our wives were out of town made us add an order of Buffalo wings…ordinary. Friend must have been thinking ahead for somehow he knew there would be some of those left so he could take them home and not have to cook. Had I been in my right mind I would have done something similar. Unfortunately, I was under the influence of aromas wafting out of the kitchen that only hinted of the pleasures to come.

A hamburger is a classic dish just as chicken Kiev and steak au poivre are classics. Don’t add mushrooms, guacamole, sour cream or just about anything else one might think of in an attempt to improve it. Leave it alone. Let it come with only lettuce, onion, pickle and tomato…or any combination of those items...and your choice of mustard or mayo…cheese is optional… (I prefer mayo)…but it has got to be by gawd medium rare. If you’ve never experienced this, please try one sometime. It is one of the true culinary pleasures in life. As Friend and I waited our turn we witnessed several orders being carried out to other tables and marveled at the size of the offerings. How could this be? How could this place have existed for these few months and I have just now discovered it? Would it live up to my hopes…my dreams…my expectations? We would soon know.


Suffice to say, I have recently passed away and gone to burger heaven, that or I am in a drug induced euphoria for what we were served transcended my most ardent hopes. “It” arrived on a buttered, toasted bun, not something just ripped from a plastic bag and slapped together…piled high with lettuce, onion, pickle and tomato and slathered with mayo on one side. The bun was so crisp and, at the same time, moist, I didn’t even mind the one sided slather. It was greasy, juicy, drippy and hearty. I feel like Pavlov’s dogs. I’m starting to drool again. I simply could not finish it all…gallant effort though I made.

I’ve mentioned previously that even though one may be full from the entrée, there is always room for dessert…and when Sara mentioned the only offering of the day was the famous Tootie’s Apple Pie from Boerne, I was powerless. It was acceptable. (Tootie’s must have one fantastic PR firm.)


Unfortunately, the biggest irritant of dining at My Place was the table next to us…seating eight extremely loud and raucous employees of Clear Channel Communications whom, according to Sarah, are regulars. (I guess regulars trump first timers). Friend and I couldn’t even have a decent conversation without raising our voices to be heard by the other. I understand this is not “high-brow” dining and I have already labeled this place a burger joint, but common courtesy would dictate a bit lower volume. Next time I think I’ll call ahead or perhaps come a bit later than their lunch hour.

I may never find any one of the seven cities long sought by Cortez, nor have I any windmills to my credit. What I do have is the satisfaction of having found “THEE” burger place in this part of Texas. I use the biblical “THEE” because it was truly a religious experience. Hallelujah.

TRATTORIA LISINA AT MANDOLA VINEYARD

Review by Jerry L. Nelson


Pitchers and catchers reported to spring training this past week so I find my thoughts turning to baseball…for more than just a hot dog. Now in the world of baseball, a batting average of .300 over the course of a many year career will usually get you into the Baseball Hall of Fame. This percentage, very simply, means the batter was successful in three out of every ten attempts to hit the ball safely and get on base. Trust me, there are many more nuances to it than that, but in a nutshell, that’s pretty much the basics of successful batting. Mickey Mantle’s greatest disappointment in his storied career was his lifetime batting average fell to .298 as a direct result of his last two rather dismal years at the plate. Nonetheless, he was a success being a success less than thirty per cent of the time.

In the food world, like that of baseball, ownership expends money to assemble a team of players…managers, chefs, cooks, servers, and a clean-up crew, not to mention, most times the most expensive outlay, the facility where that team is going to perform. Now, if there was a baseball god in the heavens, the Texas Rangers would constantly be among the contenders, simply based on the quality of their facility. The Ball Park In Arlington harkens back to a simpler time in its purest form. But I digress.


Taking in a most beautiful view of the Trattoria Lisina, the dining arm of the Mandola Winery, located on FM 150 in Driftwood, Texas, one begins to salivate with the thoughts about what Tuscan delights may soon be brought forth. If the money spent on the stadium, in this case the restaurant, is any indication, the diner is in for a gastronomic treat the likes of which the hill country has never seen. The visual ambiance is quite impressive from the open kitchen to the huge, indoor fireplace to the matching one on the massive patio (rumors are that Houston restaurateur Damian Mandola dropped well over a million bucks on this all-star facility). Bear in mind, a thirty per cent success rate will not get you into the culinary hall of fame.


After warming up in the tasting room of the winery, my “Italian” Friend and I found ourselves being taken care of by the most charming and cute “as that bug in the ubiquitous rug” server named Zahra. She started us off with a Cream of Mushroom soup ($6) made from not just one or two different kinds of mushrooms, but in this case, four different bits of fungi…crimini, white portabellas, morels and button. Nice texture and aroma, but it needed a bit of salt to really bring it to life (base on balls with this dish).


Being the gluttons for punishment we many times are, “Italian” Friend and I ordered three entrees for just the two of us. The first one served to us was a fast ball right down the middle of the plate or, rather, bowl…a serving of some of the finest ravioli it has been my pleasure to enjoy…in this case, four cheese ravioli with cream sauce ($12) and I have to say those four cheeses combined with the most tender pasta equated to a four bagger (baseball parlance for a homerun).

Unlike the ball park where beer tends to be king, this facility by law, being part of a winery, is allowed to only serve wine, although not necessarily their own. We enjoyed a glass each of a very nice Pinot Noir from the Arancia Vinyard in Italy ($10 and a solid hit).


The entrees looked visually appealing. “Italian” Friend ordered the bone-in grilled Veal Chop with roasted fingerling potatoes and grilled asparagus, both green and white ($28), one of the night’s specials. Being a Red Sox fan, he certainly has known disappointment over the years, but not since the Bambino was sold to the “Evil Empire” has he felt value received for money spent was less than a fair deal. The chop was a bit on the small side, about three or four ounces too small (no size was quoted in the starting line-up), but the “grilled” flavor was excellent (score this one a fielder’s choice). My Gulf Snapper atop a bed of cannellini beans mixed with green beans, onion, tomato and bits of asparagus ($18) was attractive, but upon biting into the filet of fish it became just another ordinary fish dish on top of some kind of bean mixture. The cannellini beans might have been better in a bowl served with crusty bread; they didn’t belong under the fish (hit batsman…it was painful but at least there were now two runners on).


By now, we were deep in the late innings. It was dessert time. “Italian” Friend and I opted for a “pinch” hitter…instead of an item from the starting line-up, we signaled for samples from the Gelato bar. The team’s manager on duty, Jonathan Boyd, informed us Trattoria Lisina makes its own gelato. We began to drool, hoping to avoid accusations of a “spit ball." What a way to finish off the night. Maybe this would be that come-from-behind win that so thrills a cheering throng. Rich, thick, creamy gelato in a variety of flavors. The crowd was on its feet…the noise level rising as I requested coffee flavor and he indicated toffee flavor. They brought us both coffee flavor. Oh well, maybe the crowd noise created by the cement floor and high ceilings finally had an effect. Still, homemade gelato! Alas, the Mighty Casey couldn’t have been a bigger disappointment. It tasted and felt like nothing more than coffee flavored “ice cream," not the stuff “comebacks” are made of (this one was a called third with runners in scoring position).

Game over.

The box score is not pretty. One run on two hits and quite a few errors with several left on base. A team can’t win every game, but it doesn’t have to…in baseball. This, unfortunately for the team from Trattoria Lisina, is the food game where everything served up needs to be a hit every time or, at least, a solidly connected fly ball that drives ‘em back to the warning track. The ballpark is beautiful, but the team needs more practice, for right now there are only a few all-stars in the game.

Ah, but hope springs eternal.

SPECHT'S GENERAL STORE

Review of Specht’s General Store and Restaurant
By Jerry L. Nelson


If you venture out far enough into the, seemingly, most remote area of the Texas Hill Country near Bulverde, just north of San Antonio, you’ll stumble across this hill country restaurant and general store. Ah, General Store, where one can buy provisions for the long trip back to civilization and, perhaps, get a quick bite for sustenance. After all, from the looks of the giant Texas flag-painted roof, Specht’s has been in business since the fall of the Alamo, having taken up the flag and marched on to right where it is today, nine miles north of 1604 off Blanco Road, at 112 Specht Road, according to their web site, in San Antonio.

Well, close enough.


Actually it’s been in business since 1887, operating as a dry goods store, vaudeville house during the 1890s, a saloon and about the only place you could get a beer during prohibition. Current owner Kate Mangold took over in 1985 and added the restaurant and that’s what drew Friend, his Significant Other, the Child Bride of nearly Forty Years and me, to the place -- the food. That and the rumors of WW II soldiers bringing German POWs there in the evenings to chat with the local farmers and hoist a brewsky or two…you know, hands across the sea and all that.

You can read all about the history of the place on any one of several reviews posted on the walls with words like “SPECHTacular” or “beyond exSPECHTations”, the most recent being over ten years old. While the history certainly adds to the ambiance, we were there for two reasons, the food and the chance to talk with any of the remaining old-timers who might have some, heretofore, never published gossip about the place.


Alas, we had to settle for the groceries and our server, Liz, who admitted to us she had only been there five years and gave us a capsulated version of Texas history, circa 1930s and 40s. If only we had been thirty minutes earlier, she told us, one of the genuine “old-timers” was holding court at the bar (beer and wine only). There's live music every night they’re open (Wednesday through Sunday), but take the booth in the far back corner so you can still have a conversation all the while enjoying the music. On this night it was provided by Lynn Isaaks and her six string acoustic.

But I digress.


Let’s get to the food; I’m hungry. We started our adventure with two appetizers -- a small order of Jalitos ($3.95), nothing more than cream cheese stuffed jalapenos with ranch dressing for dipping…nothing special there, and then went for an order of homemade onion rings ($3.95). We were told the kitchen makes them fresh on the spot and doesn’t use the standard frozen product so many places do…and we were told the truth. A generous serving was placed on the table and managed to outlast the four of us. The only negative about them was the rings could have been a bit more crisp, but excellent as they were. We washed all the apps down with a bottle of Rosemont Cabernet Sauvignon (a very reasonable $18) chosen from a very limited selection of wines, but then I suppose this place did not get its reputation serving wine to those POWs.


Understand this is no gourmet restaurant so don’t expect to find exotic creations on the menu. This is your basic, down home comfort food joint and don’t you forget it. If you order the CFS for $9.95 (chicken fried steak for you imports) or the 6 oz. fillet ($14.95) you won’t forget it. The Chicken Fried was fork tender sitting atop the homemade cream gravy with a generous serving of mashed potatoes adjoining it with more of the gravy in the well. Served next to all of that was an overly large pile of the freshest green beans made with chunks of real bacon for a flavor first created by your grandmother. If you’re not wearing an extra pound or two the next day, you just didn’t eat it all.

I’m always a bit suspect about steaks that are served by any place other than a “name” steak house…but if the quality and preparation of our fillets were any indication, you have no need to worry at Specht’s. Our steaks were prepared as requested, medium rare, and were fork tender. In fact, Liz, the five year vet, checked with the kitchen and assured us our steaks were just cut that day and would even be an ounce or two more than described…and she came through as promised. I’m embarrassed to say I left a bite of the most medium rare tenderloin fillet I have ordered out in years. I’ve paid more than twice as much at those high dollar steak places in the big city and gotten far less.


By now we were on our second bottle of wine, which doesn’t hurt the atmosphere at the table when someone mentioned dessert. Friend and his Significant Other both shook their heads in rejection leaving it up to the Child Bride of nearly Forty Years and me to make the rest proud. We ordered a slice of Apple Pie ($2.25) and what appeared to be half of a Carrot Cake ($4.95). I requested utensils for all. It’s a good thing I did for I would have been highly embarrassed had Friend’s Significant Other been forced to use her fingers on the Carrot Cake. The apple pie was homemade and outstandingly good, but the Carrot Cake stole the dessert award. Never before have I actually seen julienne pieces of carrot in a real Carrot Cake until this one. They are usually so chopped and cut up they get lost in the (food snob word warning) mélange of ingredients. Not this one…they were there and added to the texture rush. Order it, you won’t be disappointed.

Dan Christiensen, the cook for the evening, came out to our table near evening’s end to check on things…a likable sort, who’s been there just one month short of Liz. Maybe that’s why Specht’s General Store and Restaurant has lasted all these years…the help seems to hang around for years at a time in an industry where the turnover rate is traditionally sky high.

The only real disappointment of the evening (you didn’t really think I was going to finish without one, did you?) was there were no POWs with whom to quaff a brew or two. Oh well, I’m not up on my Arabic, anyway. But I’ll definitely go back for the food.

THE LIBERTY BISTRO

Review by Jerry L. Nelson

The first time I can remember being in the old City Hall in New Braunfels, located at 200 North Seguin Avenue, just one block north of the plaza, was at the ripe old age of fourteen…and it cost me fifteen dollars…thanks to “Chapa the Coppa”, the youth of my era’s name for New Braunfels Police officer Raymond Chapa. I had my driver’s license for the grand total of thirty days when Chapa decided I was “driving beyond prudence.” All I knew was I was attempting to pass a much slower car on Landa Street when Chapa appeared out of nowhere, as he always did, pulled me over and posed the question, “Well, Brother Nelson, having fun?” to which my cleverness allowed, “I was until now.” We were friends from then on.

Fast-forward forty-five years to 2007, close the City Hall building to local government work and open a restaurant in the basement…specifically the Liberty Bistro. Open only since September of this year, Liberty offers a patriotic variety of lunch, dinner and Sunday brunch selections with a full bar. Having visited the basement bistro for dinner recently, my party came away with mixed emotions, leaning toward the positive…many efforts done well, some needing attention and one that just won’t go away without major expense in the form of sound deadening carpet to eliminate the raucous noise level that comes from a concrete floor.


We chose our evening of dining to coincide with the recently held Wassail Walk, an event hosted by many of the downtown merchants in an effort to bring the citizenry out for a social and economic good time. Our server indicated the crowd inside the Bistro was more than the norm for a Thursday evening…continuous rather than fitting into a one hour window. Good for them. Bad for us.

We were seated among mirrored walls filled with portraits of former Presidents and their wives. I didn’t walk around to see them all, and could only identify Wm. Howard Taft, Eleanor Roosevelt, and had to be reminded which one was Lady Bird. I feel certain all of the others were accounted for.

The dinner menu reads like an American History book from my high school years with descriptions as T. Jefferson’s Tomato Bisque with Madeira ($3 for the cup and $5 for the bowl). Move on to the Johnny Appleseed salad or the Independence Caesar or the Liberty Salad (you get the picture). Friend and his significant other both chose the bisque for their appetizer and expressed no disappointment. The child bride of nearly forty years selected the Colonial Crab Cake ($12), Maryland style lump crab with Garlic Aioli and smoked Paprika sauce. The texture was proper and it definitely was made with lump crab meat. Great without dipping into the aioli -- but rather a bit of lemon squeezed over the top.


My choice of appetizer was the Liberty House-made spreads consisting of Hummus, Eggplant, and the best of the three selections, an outstanding Fig and Olive Tapenade with Goat Cheese ($9). The only downside to the dish was the extremely over toasted bread on which to spread your choices. I don’t mean burned…rather baked so long in the oven that the toast was dry and crumbly, not even a hint of softness. If I had wanted saltines, I would have ordered saltines. It made for “crummy” eating (pun intended).

Our wine selection proved a bit more elusive as the first two bottles requested were unavailable. It seems they only had on hand more expensive selections of the Malbecs listed. They did offer to split the price difference with our first selection, a less expensive choice…a nice gesture, but only after I asked. It seemed as if it took longer than necessary to return with the wine, but since we were saving it for the entrée, the breathing time would do it good.

The entrees continue on with the patriotic theme as in Friend’s choice of John Hancock Chicken ($16 for a half and $12 for a quarter), cooked under a brick ‘till crisp (I’ll take their word for it) accompanied by Liberty potatoes (nicely done au gratin style) and fresh green beans. The green beans were just right, crisp and fresh. His significant other settled for the Independence Caesar ($6), a bit on the small side for an entrée but understandable since it came from the salad listings, and to her liking. Only disappointment was upon searching, she found only one crouton and one piece of shaved parmesan. Good thing she added grilled shrimp to it.


Child bride of nearly forty years chose the Costa Nostra Gnocchi ($16), house-made potato pasta and topped it with Bolognese sauce. The gnocci was the finest I have ever sampled, light and airy...like eating tiny little potato clouds, puffy and flavorful. DON’T order the Bolognese sauce on top of it. It turned out to be nothing more than flavorless meat sauce, no nutmeg and the texture was not that of a quality Italian Bolognese. This one was way too chunky. Try the Wild Mushrooms and Arugula…it just sounds good.



My entrée was the Little Havana Pork Confit ($18), citrus marinated and slow roasted for at least five hours served on Tostones with Black Beans. My Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary, Tenth Edition defines Confit (a French word…the "T" is silent and the "CON" is said up in the nose…maybe that’s why so many French have theirs out of joint…ultimately sounding something like CONH-FEE…) as a meat -- duck, goose or pork cooked and preserved in its own fat. It says nothing about slow roasting. I have always felt that if something indicates classic preparation, then do it that way or change the name. A much more indicative name would have been Little Havana Pulled Pork…and the Tostones, something I was unfamiliar with by name, turned out to be smashed Plantains formed into patties and then quick fried, appearing like kartoffel kuchen, but these were cold and tasteless…not hot out of the grease as our server described. The black beans were…black beans. The flavor of the pork was quite good.

The fact it took a bit long to get our wine should have given a hint of things to come…the wait between our appetizers and the entrées was way too long, nearing thirty minutes. When we were finally served, three lucky persons got their food right away while the fourth had to wait another three or four minutes before that plate was brought out from the kitchen. We noticed this same pattern repeated itself at the table next to us. Did they not have an expediter in the kitchen? (More on that later). Knowing they were crowded this night and seeing things were running slowly out of the kitchen, we ordered dessert at the same time as our entrées…individual soufflés. Our server told us it took between eighteen and twenty minutes to bake one so this would be the best way to ensure we were served in a reasonable time frame. Made perfect sense to us and we applauded his foresight. It just didn’t work out that way. After more than thirty minutes the soufflés appeared. The Viarhona Chocolate ($8) and the Grand Marnier ($7) each came with individual sauces to be added at the diners’ discretion…chocolate sauce for the chocolate soufflé and a wild berry sauce for the Grand Marnier. They need to lose the berry sauce…it overpowers the soufflé and offer, instead, a Grand Marnier sauce, easily made from cream and Grand Marnier liqueur. The soufflés were acceptable, not overly cakey but a bit short of outstanding.



I think the service problems could be solved by improving the expediting or if there isn’t one, getting an expediter. This person’s task is to regulate the tickets given to the chef so he or she does not become overwhelmed and get “in the weeds”…restaurant speak for fall behind. He or she also makes sure what comes out of the kitchen is correct and that one ticket gets all items sent out at the same time…not one plate several minutes later.

To be fair, I must admit I have been nit-picky on some things, but when you’re spending a sizable chunk of change you have a right to expect things to flow smoothly and get quality offerings. New Braunfels needs the Liberty Bistro to succeed and I for one truly hope it does. There are far too few quality dining options in this area and the Liberty Bistro is very close to becoming one; I would much rather have spent that first fifteen dollars of mine on any one of their lunch offerings rather than line the coffers of the city government.

THE GRILL AT LEON SPRINGS

Restaurant Review by Jerry L. Nelson


It reigned supreme in the meat market bars and restaurants of the eighties and nineties. It, coupled with a bottle of gawd-awful chardonnay with the buttery, oakey flavors of California, and the men among us would be guaranteed a score in triple digits. “It” is King Salmon, prepared any way you wanted, topped with (insert topping of choice here) usually some kind of teriyaki glaze. Well, its’ days are numbered for I have been to the kitchen top and have seen the light.

Amen, brother.

Higher than Salmon in those supposedly good for you fats and omega three stuff, the new kid on the block is Kona Kampechi, a South Pacific fish or, more specifically, Hawaiian (hence, I suppose, the word Kona). Reminds me a bit of grouper or even amberjack. This flakey, hearty, meaty fish stood out on my plate during a recent foray to The Grill At Leon Springs. The fact that The Grill is located in the original Romano’s Macaroni Grill building in Leon Springs, Texas, just north of San Antonio off Interstate 10, doesn’t hurt. A lot a great food passed out of that kitchen before Phil Romano sold out to Brinker International and the concept became just another “me too” Italian restaurant.

This time I dragged Friend with me for a change. Both our wives were conveniently out of town working so the two of us could afford to play. I caught some hell for that one. Oh, well….some of us eat to live while the fortunate among us live to eat.


The first thing you notice about The Grill is the old limestone exterior. Once inside, you see a contrast of the old with new all around as well as a humongous wine room….wonder if they seat in there or is a bit on the chilly side? Friend and I were seated by Liza (with a Z) who immediately spotted us for trouble. She pawned us off on Jenn, a comely young lass of college age….in fact Jenn informed us she was a communications major at UTSA…and quickly added her boyfriend worked in the kitchen, should we get too rambunctious. However, after a couple of pre-dinner beverages and a glass or two of wine I told her to bring him on. Fortunately, (for me) she declined. But I digress.

Friend and I settled in for what appeared, from the menu, to be an excellent selection of everything from Pasta to Seafood to Lamb Chops and Pork Tenderloin with a variety of “side” stops in between. I was ready to jump on the Walnut Blue Cheese Salad and move on to Spring Rolls of shrimp, crab and pork and then, assuming there would still be room, make my entrée in the form of Chicken Picatta, and of course, saving room for dessert of an individual Chocolate Soufflé. (I’m stuffed just writing all of that.) Fortunately, cooler heads prevailed when Friend decided on the Grilled Rainbow Trout for himself, served with a Tomato/Caper Relish, Roasted Potatoes and Grilled Veggies….all for $15.95….very reasonable once I saw the size of serving and quite well prepared. Friend was pleased with his choice.


Sweet Jenn got my attention with one of the off-menu specials, quite often the best way to go. She offered up a fish I had never heard of….Kona Kampechi. She described this as being higher in those good-for-you fats and oils than Salmon. Since you already know I despise Salmon, this sounded like a viable option. It came topped with four Grilled Shrimp and just a “hinted at” Honey/Teriyaki Glaze (will anybody ever come up with something besides Teriyaki for a glaze?) over a Toasted Sesame Slaw which was really Sautéed Julienned Leeks and Carrots. I don’t know where the sesame flavor was supposed to come from unless it was done in a bit of toasted sesame oil. No toasted sesame flavor but none the less, quite good….and only $22.95. Having never before had Kona Kempechi, let alone heard of it, I knew not what to expect, only to discover my new, favorite fish.


It was surprisingly flaky and solid at the same time, holding up well and not falling apart. The larger-than-I-could-eat serving was properly grilled, not even the least bit tough or dry, something easy to let happen if you don’t pay attention to it. In one word, outstanding. I recommend a New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc with either of the seafood dishes we had. Really, any dry white should pair nicely but for gawd sake, stay away from that 1980’s style California Chardonnay with its oakey, buttery aftertaste.

By now Friend and I were bordering on the full mark but I persuaded him to try an individual Chocolate Soufflé for dessert. We both ordered one and should you do so, turn in your request with your entrée so you don’t have to wait so long. A good server should be able to time it out so there’s no overly long wait as we had. Unfortunately the wait wasn’t worth it. I do love soufflés and know a good one when I taste it. Sadly though, ours were on the cakey side, as if they were made with too much flour and not enough egg white….or perhaps mixed a bit too long knocking out all of the air, for ours were anything but light and airy. While Chef Tomme Johnson certainly knows his fish, he might double check the soufflé recipe. (Really a small disappointment when you consider the damage we did overall). Hint….don’t pour the Grand Marnier sauce over the Chocolate Soufflé….BAD combination. They need to offer a Grand Marnier Soufflé with that sauce.

This is a restaurant I will return to. There are too many other possibilities on the menu that sound delicious. Unfortunately a lot of people know about this place so, on the weekend, make a reservation.

Salmon, if there is a Neptune in the sea, your days are relegated to patties in the school cafeteria line. On second thought, that food is bad enough without forcing the kids to eat that crap every Friday.