White tablecloths. Street food. Small portions. Lots and lots of innards. The only thing the ten best new Texas restaurants have in common is a willingness to prove that there is no such thing as a “Texas restaurant.” But when the escargots with fennel purée are this good, who cares?
March 1, 2012 | by Patricia Sharpe | Feature
It was a year of avaricious Astros fans, brainless bank robbers, competence-free comptrollers, discourteous doctors, enraged exes, frisky Frisco-ites, greedy gram-toting grandmothers, hotheaded hand surgeons, ill-informed idiots, jammed-full Jaguars, knife-krazy Kimbroughs, lambasted Lufkinites, mean-spirited magazine articles, nervy narcotics users, obtuse O’Neals, profane pilots, quazy Quaids, romantically rejected receivers, surveilling Scientologists, tumescent team mascots, unprivate urinators, value-subtracted vouchers, wind-challenged windows, x-foliated x-hibitionists, yobbish YouTubers, and zealous Zanes.
January 1, 2012 | Feature