February 2006

Where to Eat Now 2006

(Page 2 of 2)

5. THE SANDBAR
San Antonio

Seven tables covered in white butcher paper. A stainless-steel countertop with matching stools. Exposed lightbulbs in galvanized-metal fixtures. The latest, all-seafood venture of San Antonio chef Andrew Weissman couldn’t be more low-tech. To start, you might choose half a dozen Fanny Bay oysters or some of the impeccably fresh ocean critters that are offered daily as sashimi. Weissman himself, clad in a T-shirt and fisherman’s boots, is likely to be behind the bar shucking those oysters and slicing that fish. (That is, unless he’s finally found a replacement so he won’t have to work here by day and run his other place, elegant Le Rêve, by night.) After you wolf down a few mollusks, try some lobster bisque—not the typical gloppy mouthful of whipping cream but a thin, rich, amber brew infused with the flavor of sherry and simmered lobster shell. Then move on to crab salad—big, lovely lumps dabbed with a sriracha-spiked remoulade. The purity of the ingredients leaves you feeling totally righteous, so you can justify finishing with a square of Weissman’s zesty Key lime tart. Once you have it, no other will do.

6. NOBU
Dallas

I can hear the muttering now: Nobu? Is the woman out of her freaking mind? This is a road-show edition, not the original Broadway play, you say. And besides that, it’s crazy expensive. All of which I grant you. But—still—some of the most beautiful, pristine, and sensational flavors that I’ve experienced in Texas have emerged from this kitchen. Now in ten cities and growing, the Nobu empire was founded in New York in 1994 by Japanese-born Nobuyuki Matsuhisa. What do I like? The yellowtail sashimi with a paper-thin slice of jalapeño, a mini-bouquet of cilantro, and a citrusy yuzu soy sauce. It made my eyes roll back. And I am mesmerized by the Kobe-style washu beef rubbed with garlic, seared with a splash of ultrahot sesame oil, and presented in a yuzu-soy-laced broth—the complex tastes are miraculous. I still hear you grumbling that the space looks like a movie set, not a serious restaurant. So what? The monolithic wall of black rocks is soothing. The stylized birch trees make me smile. Yes, I’ll admit that some things, like the tempura, are very ordinary. But you don’t come here for tempura; you come for Nobu’s original creations. Choose those and you can have a swell time. And pay off the bill over the next six months.

7. ENOTECA VESPAIO
Austin

I love to eat at a bar. This fixation started decades ago with fountain Cokes and chicken-salad sandwiches at Woolworth’s, which helps explain why I’m inexorably drawn to the curvaceous dark-wood counter at Enoteca Vespaio, Austin’s newest wine bar, Italian cafe, deli, and imported foods shop. I perch there at lunch and order the best meatball sandwich in the city—five near-puffy orbs of ground pork on a tender house-made roll gilded with a piquant tomato sauce. For Sunday brunch, a friend and I have strong coffee and fantastically light frittatas redolent of Parmesan, pancetta, and sweet sautéed onions. At dinner I might actually sit at one of the little tables in the tall, rustic-modern room and order a special like the lush veal stew with caramelized brussels sprouts and fingerling potatoes (though I have to say that the broth was pretty oily). About the only time I’m not happy as a clam is if I’m having the overpriced $15 linguine with its miserly assortment of seafood, though the spicy, tomatoey arrabbiata sauce is just fine. But the flubs are rare. Executive chef and co-owner Alan Lazarus—he of big-deal next-door sibling Vespaio—has another winner on his hands.

8. FINO
Austin

Fino is Spanish and Italian for “fine.” It’s also a type of dry Spanish sherry. This makes it a perfect name for the attractive Mediterranean restaurant that is the second venture of Austin restaurateurs Emmett and Lisa Fox, owners of Asti Trattoria. Want something distinctly Middle Eastern? Try chef Tristan White’s appetizer platter of soft, warm pita bread, smoky baba ganouj, tart tzatziki sauce, and house-made hummus. For something that combines a couple of cuisines, order the deep-flavored roast quail clad in a grape-leaf tunic and gilded with a spunky balsamic dressing. France is deliciously represented by the crumb-dusted fried goat cheese in a honey drizzle with jammy pickled onions. Greece inspires a well-stocked Greek salad. And Spain is the source of the cured Basque olives and toasted Marcona almonds that make such compulsively edible snacks. Spain is also, alas, the source of the consistency-challenged seafood paella. But far more things work than not here, so relax in the stylishly spare dining room or cozy up under a heat lamp on the second-story patio and order another glass of fino.

9. COVA
Houston

It’s a wine store. No, it’s a restaurant. Wrong, it’s a wine shop. Wait, it’s … . Oh, be quiet. It’s both. And a very smart idea. Owner Monsterville Horton IV has created a multipurpose wining and dining space where you can sashay in and buy a bottle at retail price, then grab a table across the room and enjoy your wine with dinner for a mere $10 corkage fee. Chef Eric Lawhon ably mans the kitchen, and the results are almost always satisfying, especially if the gregarious Horton is on hand to guide your wine choice. But even teetotalers can dine well here on cheese plates or the likes of tuna sashimi sided by a snow-pea-sprouts salad spritzed with lemongrass-infused oil. Or they can get serious with lovely New Zealand lamb chops sided by a chunky, creamy Gorgonzola-cauliflower flan. Or go Spanish with a tortilla española. And a real bonus: The dishes come in appetizer or regular portions. If there is a weak point at Cova, it’s occasional bad timing in the arrival of dishes; also, while the youngsters waiting tables are as friendly as pups, some are about as clueless. But when the prices are so moderate (no entrée costs more than $20) and the open, casually spiffy space so pleasant, you can afford to be lenient.

10. NOÉ
Houston

For some chefs, creativity comes and goes. For Robert Gadsby, it’s a way of life. He’s the culinary guru who opened the first Noé in Los Angeles in October 2003, and there is nothing mundane at his restaurants. Even Noé’s dining room—with its Gustav Klimt–like geometric paintings and formal furniture washed in a mysterious blue light—resembles no other. Gadsby’s style could be called Asian-inflected French and American (he has lived in Japan, France, and Italy, as well as Texas), and when his creations work, they work. Roast shoulder of lamb is butter-tender, topped with a spicy oriental-black-bean sauce and sided by gingery puréed sweet potatoes. And his flash-fried veal sweetbreads, accompanied by truffle jus, are perfect. But sometimes only part of a dish comes off, as in his signature gingered-butternut-squash-and-lobster soup with “almond cloud and hazelnut veil.” The brew is a creamy, flavorful squash bisque with lovely chunks of fresh lobster. The problem is that both the soup and the whipped-cream “cloud” are dessert-sweet, and the ground-nut “veil” is extraneous. And a few things are just bizarre, like his panna cotta appetizer with foie gras and white chocolate. But an evening at Noé is always stimulating. You might not adore every detail, but you won’t be bored.