Another Good Choice

Maui's On Main

 1022 North Main

(at Lexington)

 I don't get out as much as I used to. Partly this is because of the increasingly intractable heat of the summers around here, and partly it's just plain ol' lack of interest in the world around me. But sometimes I force myself to shower and shave and go through all the tedious effort of selecting clothes to wear and deciding where in this vast and bustling city I feel like going. Often, the answer is "Nowhere," and so I stay home again.

 But last night my wife and I managed to rouse ourselves to action, largely by the draw of curiosity about Maui's On Main, a newish (six months old or so) and well-regarded burger joint not too far from home. It's in the space once occupied by Pete's Tako House, which long ago made the short move into downtown; and later by a locavore spot that wasn't good enough to long survive. 

What's that mean?

 Maybe this place will do better. It certainly impressed more on a first visit. We were immediately, almost boisterously, greeted as soon as we went in; it felt like arriving a little late at a neighbour's backyard barbecue. After a couple of explanations of menu items, we made our selections: my wife chose the regular single-patty hamburger with fries, while I went for the Loco Moco.

 It might have been nice enough out to sit on the patio, but we opted for a table in the tiny dining room. When we were making that choice I thought it was too windy outside -- I saw the decorations billowing in the breeze -- and only after we were seated did I realize that there was a huge-ass fan going out there. But we were comfortable enough inside. There was a kid's video playing on the one TV on the wall behind me, softly enough not to distract. Later, the sun got low enough that I had to change seats or be blinded; they could use a shade on the west-side window. But overall the place was exactly as it looks: small, unpretentious, funky, maybe even hip (I'm no judge of that anymore, I can assure you). 

 

 The food seemed to take a substantial time to arrive, but that may have been more perception than reality (owing to my own thoughts provoked by the particular video being shown), so let's not linger on the point. It came before too long, and the only consequence was that my wife's fries weren't as hot as they should have been. Everything else was fine.

 

 I don't know what makes Hawaiian rolls so good -- I've seen all kinds of recipes, some with sugar, some with brown sugar, some with pineapple juice, but I've never tried making them -- but after tasting my wife's excellent (and very large) burger at Maui's, we both have a new favourite. If I was rating the food based on just that burger, it'd be five jalapeños for sure. Everything in the burger was excellent and just thinking about it now is making me plan another visit. Best burger in town? Gotta say yes.

 

 My own dish, Loco Moco, was good too. Not as good; so few things in life are. But good. It consists of spam-fried rice, a traditional Hawaiian dish, topped with two hamburger patties, brown gravy, and two sunny-side-up fried eggs. It's served with a pasta salad. Both the main dish and the side dish come in copious quantity. I could only manage to eat half my dinner, but it came in a go-box so was no trouble to pack up and carry away. I expected to have a complaint about the cheap single-use plastic utensils, but they proved to be up to the task in this instance. (Though I still wish more restaurateurs would avoid them.)

 I was happy with the dish overall. A lighter touch with the brown gravy would be an improvement; it overwhelmed the other flavours of the dish, to the point where I couldn't actually taste the spam at all. And if I'm being honest, I would have been content with one hamburger patty and one egg on the dish. But this is America, Land of the Supersized Serving, so who can really complain about that? And I loved the pasta salad for its creamy simplicity.

 Anyway, it doesn't matter. Because next time I go to Maui's On Main, I'm getting the burger.

Kind of a Surprise, Really

The Dogfather

6211 San Pedro

 at El Mio and Recoleta

Going up and down San Pedro, I've passed this place perhaps seven hundred and fifty thousand times. Most of the time I don't even notice it. After all, other than the font on the sign out by the street -- made to emulate the font of the famous movie series that the name puns -- there is nothing to draw the attention away from the garish green tire shop next door and cause one to notice the existence of this modest little corner eatery.

And yet, there it is, and has been for years, and I've never tried it before. To be honest, until about a year ago, I never even thought about trying it. I mean... it's hot dogs. Like any all-American boy of the post-war era, I grew up thinking of hot dogs as something akin to haute cuisine, and there was nothing better than a wienie sliced up on spaghetti or macaroni and cheese or just nestled into a nice warm bun with mustard and relish and ketchup. But then the warnings started hitting. Rat hair! Bone! Insect parts! Lord knows what sort of contaminants were hiding in those jiggly pinkish tubes of cast-off ingredients. 

And so here I am, forty-nine years old again (for the Nth time) and I have ordered a hot dog, or something like it, as a meal exactly three times as an adult: once at the airport in Chicago -- because, you know, they're famous for their dogs; once at a place on Austin Highway named for Chicago -- because, you know, they must know how to do it like it's done in Chicago (a disappointment), and most recently at a restaurant in Roswell, Georgia, because I'd been thinking about The Dogfather while driving -- I don't know why -- and how I'd never tried it. Plus hot dogs were the chef's special* that evening. 

It occurs to me that hot dogs are not the contaminated mystery meat we were warned about in the waning days of my childhood. I trust our government enough to believe that they have responded to those complaints and that the ingredients in your average hot dog, or whatever type of sausage you're dealing with, are reasonably safe. 

And here I am at loose ends for dinner: home alone for a week (well, the dog is here with me, but she's not much for dinner conversation), and tired of leftovers and thrown-together meals of Whatever. So I decide to go out, and while perusing the options on Google Maps, I remember the Dogfather. I've been telling myself I was going to try it out; tonight's the night! This -- this -- is the appropriate juncture! Now is the time! So I did.

This is one of those places where you order at the counter and the cheerful young cashier (he reminded me of Hank Azaria playing the dog walker on Mad About You) will bring your order to you. There are a few tables inside, maybe room enough for fourteen people, plus a few barstools facing a counter under a window. Outside there are five or six picnic tables and a few small cafe two-tops. The weather being remarkably cool for mid-July (only eighty degrees for a high today; can you believe it?), I thought I'd give the patio a try. Expectations were low, as San Pedro is usually a busy, loud street: seven lanes in that area. But the traffic was no distraction (except for one moment when some J.D. in a black pickup had to show off his exhaust note). The seating was comfortable enough, I was untroubled by flies, and the wind was low enough that napkins didn't fly away. There was some music being played on a P.A., just loud enough to mask any conversation at other tables but not so loud as to impose itself.

I decided on a Brat. I figured I couldn't go too far wrong with that; most of the other menu options seemed a little too fru-fru for a first-time hot-dog-restaurant sampler. I wanted something I could identify, for comparison purposes. I also ordered some curly fries, and I was going to get a beer but they only have it in cans, so I went for a fountain drink. (They have some brand I've never heard of, but it was okay; better than Pepsi, anyway.)

Brat with curly fries

The menu describes the Brat as being made with beer, and served with spicy mustard, horseradish, crema, kraut and fried onions. There's no mention of the bun, but I assumed there would be one. I was right. There was, and let me tell you this: the bun and everything they put on it was great. Great! The bratwurst may or may not have been made with beer; I'll take their word for it. But it was delicious, marvelously seasoned and expertly cooked just to the near edge of crispy. The mustard and horseradish had just an elegantly subtle kick to them, and were not slathered on in dollops designed to conceal some other failing. The pickled kraut was delicious, made with red cabbage, and I'm pretty sure somebody did their dissertation on How Much Kraut Should a Brat Have? And those fried onions were like the thin, crispy, seasoned onion rings you used to be able to get at Frontier decades ago. The overall effect? Great!

What's that mean?

The curly fries, too, were outstanding. I'm not a big fan of curly fries in general, but this serving will raise the entire genre in my overall esteem. Perfectly fried, perfectly seasoned, escorted by a small container of spicy ketchup, and served in enough quantity to satisfy without overdoing it. I didn't feel the least bit guilty even as I downed the least little crumb clinging to my dish. 

* Though the food in that Georgia restaurant was good, I use the term "chef" loosely.

I Just Don't See It

Curry Boys BBQ 

Courtland Street at St Mary's

 

 A local version of a national on-line publication recently cooed about one of those click-bait lists that define so much of the internet, in lieu of actual information. In this case, it was a list of the "100 Best Places to Eat In Texas", or something like that, compiled by one of those ratings sites like Yelp or Travel Advisor or, I don't know, Google Maps? It doesn't matter. Spur-of-the-moment reviews created by two thumbs on a mobile phone's keyboard seem as far removed from thoughtful critique as Donald Trump is from George Washington.

 The highest-rated local restaurant on that list, Curry Boys BBQ, happens to be not too far from my house; and the other evening we decided to pass a few hours at the San Antonio Museum of Art, so this restaurant happened to be on the way home, and open. I saw an opportunity to try something new and different, something that a number of people, at least, seemed to like.

 As I understand it, two local restaurateurs -- one with a seafood place and one with a barbecue house -- decided to fuse their culinary experience and expertise, and Curry Boys is the result. There's a California connection in there somewhere, but to be honest I don't remember the stories I've read about the restaurant's history, and you can look it up on line just as easily as I can, if it interests you. It doesn't me. 

 So they come up with this idea, and open the restaurant, and it's a hit, and now they've moved from one pink house to a larger pink house. (I'm actually more curious about why the pink, but not enough to look that up either.) 

 The new, larger pink house is right at the southern end of the St Mary's Strip, behind Burger Boy and across from a black-painted former gas station (I'm guessing) that now houses a taco place. I didn't see a lot of parking, but there was enough. Meaning that we got a place and there was at least one left. On stepping inside, we were greeted in a friendly way by a welcoming young lady, who referred us to the menu board posted next to the order window. I noticed that several items on the menu were covered over with painter's tape, so I supposed they're out of those things. Rather than read through the remaining options, I asked the woman for the best thing they had. "That would be the Missing Link," she said without hesitation; so I ordered that. My wife chose the Magic Mushroom, and she wanted an order of edamame for us to split. We both had kölsch beer to drink. We chose a table and had a brief wait before the food was brought out to us.

last city inspection: perfect (4/23)

  The Missing Link is sausage served sliced in a bowl with rice, potatoes and carrots, the whole thing treated with a Panang curry sauce. The quality of ingredients is very good, and the quantity is completely satisfying. The hard veggies were cooked perfectly: retaining their texture but soft enough to eat comfortably; not at all mushy. And the rice, like everything else, was expertly prepared. The combination of flavours, notably between the sausage and the curry sauce, was delicious; I put that down less to the very good sausage and more to what I have to think is the best Panang curry sauce I've ever had. (For one thing, the strong flavour of peanuts, a major ingredient, was kept subtle.) And there was just enough of it to moisten and flavour everything in the bowl without producing a souplike puddle.

 My wife's Magic Mushroom was, essentially, the same dish, but with marinated mushrooms instead of sausage, and a green curry sauce instead of Panang. I had a couple of tastes of it, and found it as well-made as my own dish. The sweetness of the curry sauce was particularly noticeable, which I like.

 The only less-than-excellent thing about the food we ordered was the edamame. The pods were served in a light sauce of some kind (the menu just calls it a "Thai sauce") that seemed to lean heavily on red peppers. The pods themselves were listed as "smoked," but I couldn't identify any kind of smoky flavour about them. And they were unusually tough to get open; I finally had to try stringing them like old-style green beans, but even that didn't often work. Most of them are still in our refrigerator, awaiting a burst of industriousness that may not come.

 The ambiance of the restaurant seems to me to be going for a kind of modern we-don't-really-care funkiness. The dining room isn't large -- they may do a lot more take-out than dine-in service -- yet it has a kind of open feel to it, a relaxing space comfortably but inexpensively furnished. I suspect that if I had been there on a typical Friday or Saturday night, it would have been crowded with college-aged and 20-something patrons, but a quiet Tuesday evening was perfect for an older couple like us ... though we're neither of us as grown up as people seem to think. 

 I do have one complaint about the ambience of the place, and that is the environmental wastefulness of disposable utensils and single-use plastic cups and go-boxes. They serve the food in bowls that have to be washed; I'm not sure what their reasoning was in deciding they couldn't economically wash and re-use forks and spoons at the same time. (I'm theorizing they use a dishwasher.) I think that's enough said on the point, as these days people generally seem more aware of the damage we do with these things. (And I am old enough that I re-use the go-boxes at home. They're good for at least a trip or two through the microwave.) Also, this isn't the first time I've fixed on that topic in this blog, to no visible effect.

 The value was pretty much on target. (Two and a half chili peppers is a good rating in my calculus; if you want to know more about those ratings, look here.) With two entrées, an appetizer, and two beers, plus tax and tip, our bill came to just over fifty bucks, about normal for a night out in this town at this sort of place. 

 So yeah, I think Curry Boys BBQ is a pretty good place, and I would definitely go back (if it's not crowded and noisy). But I think Best-In-Town status is over the top. There are lots of very good places in town; this one might be all the rage right now, but in six weeks or six months the bloom will be off the rose. And I've looked at a lot of those restaurant "reviews" on those web sites, and in my view they're nothing more than glorified popularity contests. Not to be relied on for anything serious.