All the Old Familiar Places

Ciao Lavanderia
226 East Olmos Drive

(in Olmos Park, just off the circle)

Being lately resolved (again) to lose some weight, my wife and I decided that the traffic circle in Olmos Park, a mile and a quarter distant, was not, in fact, too far to walk. And it being a really fine evening, with temperatures in the high 60s and a clear sky, it turned out to be a really enjoyable half hour's walk. (The return trip, being slightly downhill, was even nicer.) 

And it being such a great evening, the sort we expect here in Paradise South only during fleeting moments in April and October, we took a table outside of Ciao Lavanderia, a place we have been coming to, not frequently, but somewhat regularly, since it opened I don't know how many years ago. Being outside was particularly nice because, in addition to the perfect weather, we could enjoy the relative quiet — there's so little traffic on Olmos Drive that it's much quieter out on the sidewalk than inside the restaurant. Unfortunately, before long the restaurant staff propped open the front door, giving us just enough of the noise from inside to cause us to think about moving, but not so much that we were actually roused to do so.

And even better, that section of tables was being attended to by one Callie, an articulate young woman who may be, when it comes to restaurant food in this town, among the most intellectually straightforward people working in the business. It was still fairly early in the evening when we arrived, so she could discuss with us, unhurried, not just the menu at Ciao (which, in all modesty, we probably know as well as most of their more frequent guests), but favourite dishes at several other places in town. She was also very helpful in selecting a wine, and in selecting entrées, and even when the place started to fill up as the evening went along, she ensured that every aspect of our evening was as enjoyable as it could be. I was impressed enough that I almost — almost — left more than a 20% tip, which heretofore I've only done by math error, or when dealing with foreign currencies, or after way too many drinks. 

The new menu at Ciao is not extensive, but it is impressively more varied than some other nearby restaurants.* That was one of the reasons we chose it this evening; the other two places that we considered near the Circle had menus that I can almost describe as monotonous: one beef dish, one chicken dish, and ten kinds of seafood. Ciao offers pasta and pizza and a few traditional Italian dishes done with flair and verve, and quite a few unusual dishes that start with flair and verve and go from there.

I suppose it's a good thing that my favourite dish at Ciao, pappardelle with sausage and spinach, is no longer offered; it forced me to try something new. Being, as I said, newly resolved to shed some pounds, I liked the sound of the goat cheese and polenta salad. But our waitress was adamant that I would find that an insufficient meal (God bless her), so I gave her my second choice, steak fiorentina, one of the evening's specials. My wife, ever the sensible one, chose another special dish, the pasta primavera.

If Olmos Park does restaurant
inspections, they don't
publicize the results.

The pasta was excellent. The pasta was orrechie, the oil-based sauce was light, the vegetables were done tender-crisp, and the seasonings were deft. The quantity was sufficient for her to eat her fill and still have enough left for tomorrow's lunch.

This was also true of my meal, which was good but less perfect than hers. My steak was barely medium-rare, about eight or nine ounces thick-cut, but the quality of the meat should, I think, have been better, as it carried a $27 price tag. It was seasoned well for the most part, but a couple of bites were overloaded with black pepper. Underneath the steak was a bed of cannellini in a nicely seasoned sauce; and some familiar salad greens, possibly arugula, topped with a few shreds of hard cheese. The taste, except for those concentrations of pepper, was exquisite, but in the struggle between beef and blade, the blade was near overmastered.

* Specifically, Olmos Park Bistro and McCullough Avenue Grill, both of which we had considered as targets for this evening's foray.

Some differences noted.

Big Bob's Burgers
447 West Hildebrand

(by the railroad tracks near San Pedro)

Last Spring, I went to the Big Bob's Burgers on Harry Wurzbach and found it interestingly unimpressive. Soon after, the restaurant moved to the edge of my own neighbourhood, and the owner sent me a comment through this blog (which, it appears, I didn't publish, and deleted; I don't remember why) asking me to try the new location. Today, my friend Rick and I did just that, making it a point to order the same meal we had gotten at the old location (except that I passed on the fried Twinkie.)

The first difference I noted was in the pricing. The cheeseburger combo was still $6.50, but now it consists of the burger and a drink, whereas last time it included fries. Our total bill this time was about the same without the fried Twinkie as it was last May. (The Twinkie is now four cents more, but, like, who cares?) 

The second difference was the service. This time it was fine. Businesslike. Efficient. Last time it was particularly good, and we felt welcomed in a way that we didn't feel today. Today, we were just customers.

The new location seems larger than the old one, and naturally has not had time yet to acquire the slightly grungy patina of age (also known, in some circles, as "character"), but the staff seems to be making a good start. I noticed unswept floors by the cash register, by the drinks stand, and by our table, and the chairs had not been wiped when the tables were bussed. If this had been the tail end of the lunch rush I would overlook that, expecting that it would be dealt with when the staff was less harried; but this was before the rush had begun. There was no excuse for the lax housekeeping.

The food itself was improved from before. Not so much the burgers, which were both large and very well dressed, with soft and tasty buns; but both burgers still lack that very desirable grilled flavour that is the first requisite to separate the ordinary from the extraordinary. The onion rings, which were good last time, were excellent today: large, crispy, fried in clean, hot oil to the right degree of doneness. The serving size might have been smaller than last time, but given that, before, we had to leave some of them on the table, that wasn't a problem. The fries showed the biggest improvement, mainly because they, too, were fried in clean oil. They are hand cut, with the peelings on, and so there are substantial differences in texture depending on how close to the outside of the 'tater a particular fry was, but they were generally more satisfying than before. They still had a dusting of seasoned salt on them, but not enough, on this occasion, to displease. I note, though, that many of the fries were fragments, indicating that they were from the dregs of a fryer basket that had seen some rough treatment.

Big Bob's Burgers is okay; just okay. But in this neighbourhood, if people want a really good burger, they will think first of Chris Madrid's (Lord knows why), and second of Daddy Macky's, both of which are a few blocks away, on Blanco. I don't doubt that Big Bob's can survive here, but if its owner wants to prosper, I think he really needs to up his game.

Creative Mexican Food

Acenar
146 East Houston Street

(at the River Walk, in the Valencia Hotel)

Even with the propane heaters going full blast, it was just a little too cold to think about sitting outside for dinner tonight. It's a shame, really, because Acenar has one of the nicest outdoor dining areas in town, one level above the River; and the traffic on Houston Street, right beside the balcony, is generally light enough not to interfere with patrons' enjoyment of the atmosphere of the place. But inside, it's pretty nice, too. Someone has devoted a great deal of thought and attention to the décor and ambience in this restaurant. The interior is done in medium orange, mulberry and beige, with the design of the walls echoed in the light fixtures, while the furniture is done mostly in black, with fake zebra-wood tops. The overall effect is one of sophistication and understated elegance, as though they were saying they could make it fancier but don't want to show off. As a place to eat, it is welcoming, comfortable and attractive.

We showed up on a Saturday night without a reservation (what is this town coming to?), and were relegated to the worst table in the house. It was worse than the worst table in the house should have been, bad enough that the manager should seriously consider making do with one less table. (Or he or she could just invest in a sound-deadening screen, to put between the crap-table and the kitchen alley.)

Direct access to the restaurant from the street is through Acenar's bar area, which, when we arrived, was thronged with prosperous-looking thirty-somethings playing with their smart-phones; until one couple started dancing, at which point all the other prosperous-looking thirty-somethings stopped fondling their screens and watched surreptitiously, perhaps even enviously. I don't know the outcome of this event, whether the dancers went back to their stools or the others joined in, for at that point the tag-team duo of hostesses got their ducks in a row and we were led away to our purgatory.

We each ordered a house margarita. While waiting on that, we were served chips and salsa; the chips in a paper cone placed in a wire holder rescued from the now-defunct Water Street Oyster Bar, which used to use these things in lieu of bread-baskets. The salsa is a house concoction of roasted tomatoes, roasted peppers, and roasted something else, which was neither piquant nor smoky. It wasn't bad, but considering how much roasting had to take place for this production, it seemed a questionable investment of time and energy. The chips were equally unimpressive, with neither an interesting flavour nor an appealing texture. They were sturdy enough for the salsa, but in a place with such elevated pretensions as Acenar has, that didn't seem to be enough.

The margaritas, when they came (in tumblers), proved very strong, with a good citric taste and a smooth tequila de oro. By that time, we had arrived at our choices: crepas de pato for me, pescado veracruzana for my table-mate.

Last city inspection: December 2011
23 demerits

Crepas de pato proved to be a good choice. The crepes were corn with a little pepper in the masa (serrano, according to the menu), and the filling was juicy, tender, delectable duck meat roasted to perfection. The topping, a tamarind sauce with onions, complemented the flavour well, and there appeared to be a gloss of melted Monterey Jack cheese as well. Over the top was a sprinkle of jicama, cut shoestring fashion. Unfortunately, its texture was rather too much like actual shoelaces for it to add anything to the meal, beyond its appearance.

The pescado veracruzana was excellent. The fish was fresh and flaky, and it was topped with a deliciously piquant sauce of tomatoes, capers and olives. It was served on a bed of fluffy rice, with more than a hint of cilantro, and wilted watercress.

After this enjoyable meal (and finding ourselves with some time before the concert that had brought us downtown), we each chose a dessert. My first choice from the expensively-printed dessert menu proved to be no longer available; apparently the manager was opposed to tossing away such a hefty investment merely because it was no longer correct. My second choice, crepas de cajeta, failed to impress. The crepes in this case, small and slightly sweet, had the texture of whole-wheat tortillas that have been too long in a microwave. The filling, Mexican vanilla ice cream, was flavourful, but had the texture of mellorine. My friend's guava sorbet in "strawberry-watermelon soup" had an impressively deep guava flavour, but no soup. "A" for taste, but "C" for effort.

I did not come to Acenar expecting to dine like this for cheap, but when I add up the charges for what we ordered, I get to about fifty-five dollars; add tax to that and I'm up to sixty. So why was my bill, when it came, over sixty-eight dollars? Because, I believe, those "house margaritas" we had ordered, which were supposed to be $5 each, were something more elaborate, and we were charged for what we got, not what we'd ordered. Contrary to my usual practice, I didn't check the bill closely on this occasion, but that wouldn't have mattered: there were no prices on the drinks menu, so I wouldn't have known. It's only now, after the fact, looking at the menu on line, that I see the price and realize I was charged for something else.

I'm prepared to accept my share of the blame for not having been more vigilant about it, and I will put the difference down to plain ol' human error on the waitress's part. But next time I go to Acenar, I'll be more careful. The margaritas were good, but personally I'd rather have the extra five bucks.