Belgian cuisine doesn't have to be mussels bound

To the casual observer of lesser-known international cuisines, Belgian food might appear to consist of beer, "french" fries, chocolate, and more beer. Actually you wouldn't be that far off.

Maredsous 8 beer at Jeannine's Bistro

Belgian beer is consistently heralded as some of the best in the world, and the artistry of Belgian chocolate makes the confections of neighboring chocolate-mad countries like France and Switzerland seem positively pedestrian. And then there's the food. True, there's perhaps no greater outrage than the French hijacking of the name of deep-fried potatoes, a dish inarguably invented in Belgium and still one of the foods most associated with the country. But culinary kidnapping aside, frites, french fries, Belgian fries, freedom fries, or just plain fries are one of Belgium's most notable food exports.

In Houston, Belgian cuisine has enjoyed a storied history, beginning in 1999 when the legendary Cafe Montrose opened in the neighborhood of the same name. The fries made there were consistently ranked as the best in Houston, and were paired with steamed mussels in the restaurant's (and Belgium's) signature dish, moules frites. Cafe Montrose closed in 2008, but two of the original owners, the brother-sister team of Andrew Klarman and Jeannine Pettas, opened another Belgian restaurant in Montrose called Jeannine's Bistro in 2009.

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Jeannine's menu is similar if not identical to the Cafe Montrose menu - a slew of mussels dishes with salads, omelettes and meat dishes also available. And with Klarman in the kitchen, the cooking is the virtually the same as at Cafe Montrose and consistently well-executed. If you've never been to Jeannine's or had Belgian food before, by all means, get the moules frites. Klarman uses Mediterranean mussels farmed in Puget Sound in Washington state - fresh, plump, sweet and perfect for soaking up the savory, rich broths in which they're cooked.

Moules marinnieres is the traditional choice - a big, steaming pot of mussels in an addictive broth of butter, white wine, onions and celery. Once you've plucked the last mussel out of the pot, use the spongy bread to sop up the remaining broth. And of course a flute of hot, crispy frites is provided with a ramekin of traditional Belgian house-made mayonnaise for dipping.

"We constantly strive to source the best potatoes for our fries," says Klarman. "Too much sugar in the potato and the fries will burn. Right now we are using a Kennebec potato that's working well for us." And in several lunch visits, I was able to confirm this. The fries are perfectly sized, golden and crispy on the outside, steamy and molten on the inside. And although the fries are great with the mussels, I've also had the opportunity to try several other Belgian dishes on Jeannine's menu. And I've come to the conclusion that although moules may be the best known Belgian dish, there are many others that can be described as the essence of comfort food.

Carbonnade Flamande

A classic Belgian meat dish is Carbonnades Flamandes (Flemish stew). I've always thought of Belgian food as a user-friendly version of French cuisine (unfussy, unpretentious, big portions), and this dish is a good example. Similar to beef bourguignon but made with beer instead of wine, this dish is simple, flavorful, and filling. Big chunks of beef are stewed in a subtly-sweet sauce that includes beer, carrots, onions and brown sugar. At Jeannine's, you can get this dish with fried, mashed, or boiled potatoes. Again, I usually go with the fries. After I finish off the beef chunks, there's usually a good amount of sauce left on the plate, and if you accidentally-on-purpose mix the remaining fries with the sauce, you've got a do-it-yourself version of poutine.

Belgian beers on tap at Jeannine's Bistro

And then there are the beers. Mostly known for being dark, sweet, satisfying, and steeped in tradition, Belgian beer is the perfect complement to the country's food. The tradition of Belgian beer is forever tied to Trappist monasteries (a Roman Catholic religious order) in which monks help to produce the beer and all profits support the monastery and its philanthropic programs. One of the most famous Trappist beers is Westmalle, which Jeannine's sells by the bottle in dubbel (double) and tripel (triple) varieties (the naming convention loosely referring to the strength of the beer). I usually go for the Belgian beers on tap at Jeannine's, my current favorite being a Maredsous 8. Maredsous is the name of a Belgian monastery that licenses its name to Duvel, one of the biggest breweries in Belgium. The "8" refers to the alcohol by volume (ABV) of the beer - at 8 percent it's considered a dubbel.

So after consuming copious amounts of delicious sauces, meats, mussels, and frites, and all of it washed down with rich, highly-alcoholic beer, you will naturally want to partake of Belgian chocolate. Jeannine's offers an exceptional chocolate mousse, as well as a dish of profiteroles drenched in Callebaut chocolate. And in addition to Belgian restaurant desserts, Houston is fortunate to have one of the best retailers of Belgian chocolates in Texas - Chocolat du Monde in Rice Village. Owner David Heiland carries exclusive Belgian chocolates such as Neuhaus and Leonidas. These chocolate pieces, known by the Belgian term praliné (not to be confused with the candy associated with New Orleans), are traditionally a chocolate shell filled with a paste of nuts or cream. Now if we can just get Belgium to make a chocolate praliné filled with Trappist monk beer.

Jeannine's Bistro
106 Westheimer Rd.
Houston, TX 77006
(713) 874-0220

Chocolat du Monde
5302 Morningside Dr.
Houston, TX 77005
(713) 520-5600

This blog entry was originally posted 12 October 2010 on the www.29-95.com website.

Fried Shrimp with a Side of Texas History

The substance seeps from every crack and crevice of the ground that surrounds the confluence of the San Jacinto River and Buffalo Bayou. The air around here - humid, often filled with mosquitoes and the sound of ship horns - is permeated by it. It's one of the biggest industries on this patch of land and swampy bayou in far east Houston.

Fries Seafood Platter at the Monument Inn Restaurant

And I'm not even talking about petroleum.

I'm talking about history.

The Lynchburg Ferry has been running almost continuously across Buffalo Bayou (now, the Houston Ship Channel) since 1822. The tiny dozen-car ferries scurry back-and-forth across the channel, dodging and weaving among colossal oil tankers and container ships - every one of which must pass through this narrow strait to get to the refineries and bulk cargo terminals farther up the channel. Think of it as Houston's own Bosporous Strait, but instead of connecting Europe and Asia it connects Baytown (technically Lynchburg) and La Porte. And although the two channels can't compare in the sheer sweep of history, they are, at least to Texans, easily matched in historical significance.

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The Lynchburg Ferry prepares to take on tanker traffic

The southern terminus of the ferry is a plot of land best known as staging area for refugees of the "Runaway Scrape" of 1836 - Texian colonists and settlers fleeing north from the advancing Mexican Army led by General Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna. Some 5000 refugees camped and waited for passage across the channel on a small flatboat powered by hand-pulled rope. Reinforcements for General Sam Houston's gathering army came back in the other direction.

Legend has it that Nathaniel Lynch, the operator of the ferry, raised the crossing price when overwhelmed by the refugees and soldiers, only to lower it again when ad interim President of the Republic of Texas, David G. Burnet, threatened to commandeer the ferry for government service.

On this same plot of land (4406 Battleground Road) today stands the Monument Inn, a restaurant with its own long and storied history. The tradition of a family-style seafood restaurant in this part of Houston started in 1918 when local resident Jack Sanders and wife Bertha opened the San Jacinto Inn on the north side of the ferry landing. The plentiful catch of the nearby bays and bayous established a tradition that lives on today: all-you-can-eat seafood. The original inn burned down in 1919 and relocated to the south side of the ferry - on land that is now adjacent to the Battleship Texas historical site. Throughout the 1920s, the price of all-you-can-eat seafood was $1, rising to $2 in the 1930s. Another fire in 1927 leveled that building, and a new two-story structure opened and served the area until it closed in 1987. Although primarily known for seafood - especially shrimp - the San Jacinto Inn was also known for fried chicken and biscuits whose recipe is still used today.

The San Jacinto Inn

In 1974, a new seafood restaurant called the Monument Inn (named, obviously, for the nearby San Jacinto Monument) opened further south down Battleground Road. It was part of a local chain of seafood restaurants owned by restaurateur Richard Tannenbaum that included Atchafalaya River Cafe and at least one other Monument Inn location in the Galleria area. In July of 1990, one of Tannenbaum's longtime employees, Ann Laws, along with her husband Bob, bought the Monument Inn at 2710 Battleground Road from Tannenbaum for almost $1 million. The restaurant did its normally good business until New Year's Eve 1990 when the Laws received a late night phone call from an employee that the restaurant was on fire. The fire, accidentally started by a busboy, burned the restaurant to the ground. The Laws had owned it all of six months.

The Laws were determined to rebuild until they realized their insurance only covered $1 million in damages. To rebuild would cost at least $1.5 million. So they turned to Tannenbaum who owned an old restaurant property back up north on Battleground Road that was previously called the Lynchburg Crossing Restaurant. On January 20th, 1991, they leased the building with an option to buy in 5 years (they did eventually buy it and own the property today). After alot of work and remodeling, the new Monument Inn reopened on March 18th. Although they were still paying off the loan on the old site, the new restaurant was a financial success. The Laws had to admit that the new location was a big improvement - the views of the ship channel, ferry and endless parade of ships added to the unique atmosphere of the Monument Inn.

The Monument Inn Restaurant

Twenty years later, it's this same building, on this same historical ground, that still stands and serves customers seven days a week. "We're still busy and still going strong," says owner Bob Laws, although he notes the recession has had an effect on business and a tenuous supply of oysters is currently hampering their availability at the restaurant.

The most recent challenge was Hurricane Ike, which damaged the lower part of the building. According to Laws, "The day before Ike, I handed a check to my contractor and told him to be here the day after the storm. The upstairs dining room was open two weeks later when the power came back on, and the lower rooms were open a month later after remodeling."

On a recent Tuesday evening, the spacious, simply decorated upstairs dining room was about half full and filling up fast. Container ships cruised past just beyond the reach of our booth, and the ferries plied away on their usual, unchanging route. The menu continued the tradition of all-you-can-eat seafood with a $28.95 option that's billed as "We serve until you say stop!" Cold boiled shrimp, raw oysters (when available), fried just-about-everything (shrimp, catfish, oysters) are all included.

I decided on a fried seafood combination platter - shrimp, catfish and stuffed crab. All excellent with some of the best fried catfish I've had recently. My friend got the shrimp étouffée - one of the best versions of this dish I've tasted in Houston. Cold beer, a classic iceberg lettuce salad, and a basket of old-school cinnamon rolls completed the dinner.

Standing in the parking lot of the Monument Inn Restaurant, you can't help but imagine all the natural and man-made disasters that have plagued this small area of Texas - wars, hurricanes, fires, floods. And through it all, the legends, the ferries, the monument, the memories, the battlefields, the battleship and the Monument Inn have all endured.

Monument Inn Restaurant
4406 Independence Parkway South (formerly Battleground Road)
La Porte, TX 77571
(281) 479-1521
Sun-Thurs 11am-9pm
Fri-Sat 11am-10pm

This blog entry was originally posted 6 October 2010 on the www.29-95.com website.

Pierson's BBQ just keeps on smokin'

"Trinity Plate!" shouted the lady at the pickup counter at Pierson & Company Bar-B-Que in Houston's Oak Forest neighborhood. Five minutes before I had stood at the adjacent order counter and requested a three meat plate: brisket (loose cut), ribs and sausage.

Trinity Plate at Pierson's BBQ - Brisket, Ribs, Sausage

I looked up at the lady and she looked back, blinking and thinking, I'm sure, "What's this guy waiting for?" Then it dawned on me: Trinity. Three meat plate. I stood up and meekly gathered my plate. The lady smiled knowingly. I've been to alot of barbecue joints, but I've never heard a three meat combo called a Trinity Plate. I liked it. It's one of the many endearing eccentricities at Pierson & Company Bar-B-Que that keeps me coming back.

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Of course it all makes sense. Brisket, pork ribs, and sausage is the holy trinity of Texas barbecue. Every barbecue joint worth its salt is judged on those three dishes. When you talk about barbecue in Houston, Pierson's is always mentioned as one of the best when it comes to "the trinity." By some counts, there are over 200 barbecue joints in greater Houston. As I sat in the mesquite-drenched air of Pierson's small dining room, working my way through generous portions of fatty brisket, fall-off-the-bone ribs and meaty, spicy sausage, I thought about the other reasons I keep coming back to Pierson's, and why it's held in such high regard in a crowded field. Of course, you consider the food. And you also consider the people who make the food.

The barbecue at Pierson's is often described in the context of the East Texas/African-American tradition of barbecue, that is, with a focus on a sweet sauce as a complement to the meat (often chopped instead of sliced). This is certainly true, but I would also argue that Clarence Pierson, the owner, is a quintessential pitmaster, a smoke man, very much in the tradition of the legendary Central Texas pitmasters. In fact, when someone asks me where they should go to get Central Texas-style barbecue in Houston, I usually refer them to Pierson's.

In the Central Texas barbecue joints that evolved from meat markets run by Czechs and Germans, it's all about the meat and the smoke. Side dishes like beans and potato salad are secondary; barbecue sauce is an afterthought. Heck, most of the big traditional joints like Kreuz and Louie Mueller don't even provide plates or utensils. Smoked meat is served on sheaths of butcher paper. You eat it with your fingers.

Clarence Pierson

It's this almost religious devotion to the infusion of meat with smoke that sets Pierson's apart. Pierson smokes his meat for fourteen hours using mesquite wood that's fed into a mammoth David Klose-built upright smoker (David Klose is the pre-eminent maker of barbecue rigs and smokers, and is headquartered in Houston). After three years of continuous smoking, the inside walls of this smoker are incredibly well-seasoned. You can taste it in the barbecue here. "When I had David build this smoker for me, I had him add a gas-fired heat source to the fire box. That was a waste of money. I never use it. A pile of coals and four pieces of mesquite is all that's needed to fire it up."

Similarly, there's a devotion to and respect for the meat, especially the brisket. A brisket is basically two slabs of meat (the "point" and the "flat"), one on top of the other, separated by a layer of fat, with the outside surface covered with another layer of fat (the "fat cap"). Some barbecue joints consider this fat a nuisance and trim it off; Pierson trims off very little of the fat and this ensures the moist, smoky and flavorful brisket for which he is known.

Now, you'd think that this devotion to smoke and meat would be de rigueur in Houston (or all) barbecue joints. It's not. Through some process of devolution or just plain carelessness, many barbecue joints will trim almost all the fat off the brisket before cooking, and then only smoke it for a few hours. This results in the dreaded dry brisket with a "roast beef-y" flavor. Of course, if you're just chopping the brisket into sandwich meat and dousing it with sauce, this may be okay. But it's not great Texas barbecue. It takes an individual with single-minded devotion to the art of smoking meat to make great Texas barbecue.

Native Houstonian Clarence Pierson came to barbecue almost by chance. After high school, working as a machinist, he frequented a barbecue joint tucked away in an alley near the intersection of 19th Street and Shepherd in The Heights. It was called Po-boy Joe's Bar-B-Que and the pitmaster was a man from New Iberia, Louisiana named Joseph Bourda. Clarence and Joe became fast friends and Clarence eventually became a partner in the business. Joe taught Clarence everything he knew about smoking meat.

Po-boy Joe's closed in the 1980s and Clarence went back to conventional day jobs for the next decade or so. But his skill at smoking meat did not languish and was not forgotten; over the years he continued to perfect his technique by cooking for family and friends. In 2007, having "gotten tired of working for other people," Clarence resurrected the memory of Po-boy Joe's in his own barbecue joint on West T.C. Jester: Pierson & Company Bar-B-Que.

Today, the Pierson's operation is run by Clarence who prepares and cuts the meat, his sister Diane works the pickup window ("Trinity Plate!"), and his niece Britny takes the orders. On a recent afternoon, Diane and Britny were bemused that a writer was interested in taking pictures of their brother/uncle, and asking him alot of barbecue questions. But in Texas, whether east, west, south or central, if you stake a claim to smoking meat and creating the best barbecue that Texans love to eat, you will be recognized.

Pierson & Company Bar-B-Que
5110 West T.C. Jester
Houston, TX 77091
713.683.6997
11am - 7pm Tues. thru Sat.
If you're going late, call ahead to make sure they still have BBQ available.

This blog entry was originally posted 29 September 2010 on the www.29-95.com website.

Bandeja Paisa: South American Sampler Plate

In the pantheon of international cuisines that grace Houston's culinary landscape, Colombian food often gets short shrift. Not unexpectedly. The starchiness of Colombian dishes dominated by staple crops like beans, rice and potatoes looks positively stiff compared to the salsa and salsa-dancing flavors of spicy Tex-Mex.

Bandeja paisa at Mi Pueblito

Thai food? Rightfully celebrated for the fireworks of spice, flavor, color and diversity of ingredients. Japanese food? A balletic combination of raw and cooked fish, meat and vegetable. In a neighborhood of flashy ethnic food competitors, Colombian food may seem like a dreary storefront, a single neon "Open" sign flashing longingly, beckoning passers-by to step inside and give it a whirl.

As well we should. Far from being a one-dimensional cuisine, Colombian food represents a rich mix of cultures, ingredients and preparations. Colombia is blessed with a diversity of regions and ingredients, from the seafood of the coast to the staple crops of the Andes mountains. A melting pot of indigenous Colombian traditions, African/Caribbean influences, and Spanish colonial techniques fuses into a rich comida criolla ("mixed cuisine").

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There are many typical dishes of Colombia, all vying for the title of the country's national dish. There's sancocho, a hearty soup made of potato, yuca, plaintain and corn with a meat component of chicken or beef. Ajiaco is a potato soup traditionally made with three types of potatoes, chicken and the herb guasca (known as "gallant soldier" in the United States). Arepas are the fried or grilled corn cakes that accompany every Colombian meal. Tropical areas of Colombia provide a rich palette of fruits that form the basis of traditional fruit juices made from blackberry (mora), mango, passion fruit (maracuya) and soursop (guanabana) to name a few.

But arguably the best-known of Colombian dishes is bandeja paisa ("platter of the paisa people"), a colossal plate of meat and starch that is often served at lunch, traditionally following a long morning at work, and then followed by a siesta before resuming work in the afternoon. Originating from the Antioquia region of the Andes mountains (where the local population are known as "paisas"), this South American sampler plate combines many of Colombia's most popular dishes and ingredients. Recipes vary by region, but the basic components include red beans, rice, chorizo sausage, chicharonnes (fried pork rind), grilled flank or skirt steak, fried plaintains, avocados, arepas, a fried egg and a salsa-type condiment (usually a hogao sauce made of tomatoes and onions).

Certainly an ambitious dish worthy of national recognition. Indeed in 2005, the Colombian government under the administration of Álvaro Uribe (perhaps not coincidentally born in the Antioquian city of Medellín), decided to make bandeja paisa the official national dish of Colombia. Unsurprisingly, this did not go over well with the population in other parts of Colombia, who argued that the dish represented only a small fraction of the country. In a somewhat clumsy compromise, the government offered to rename the dish bandeja montañera ("platter of the mountains"). Many believe it's just a marketing gimmick to raise the profile of Colombian cuisine, much like the fabled Juan Valdez did for Colombian coffee. Protestations aside, bandeja paisa is now generally recognized as the national dish of Colombia.

In Houston, bandeja paisa is featured prominently on most Colombian restaurant menus. On a recent lunch visit to Mi Pueblito, one of Houston's best known Colombian restaurants, I sat down with a dining companion at a small table by the window. Surrounded by photographs of Botero sculptures and a wait staff wearing starched blue shirts sporting the restaurant's logo, we told the server we wanted to order the bandeja paisa. With a straight face that would make Roy Scheider proud, he replied, "You're gonna need a bigger table." Relocated to an adjacent four-top, we sipped our Mexican cokes (we'll get the fruit juices next time) and waited for the bravura feast to begin.

The size, quantity and quality of food was excellent. The platter covered a good quarter of the table surface, steaming and piled high with the traditional ingredients of bandeja paisa. A pool of red beans with an adjacent pile of rice was delicious and perfectly cooked, worthy of any Cajun red beans and rice recipe to which it might be compared. A generous slab of thinly tenderized flank steak lined the bottom of the platter, nicely marinated and flavorful. A sinuous strip of pork rind was scored into bite-sized chunks and then deep fried into knobs of pork "candy" that could be snapped off and popped into the mouth. The chorizo sausage was diminutive and overly pungent with cumin, really the only misfire of the dish. Pucks of fried white corn meal - the arepas - were included, along with a garnish of fresh avocado and an over-easy fried egg piled on top for good measure. A saucer of aji, a chimichurri-like condiment was also provided.

The bandeja paisa at Mi Pueblito comes in two sizes - "medium" and "regular." The medium size is clearly meant for one person, the regular size is meant for two, and indeed my dining companion and I easily finished off the regular size. At $13.45 split between us, this giant plate of food was a delicious bargain.

And really, this type of dish is meant to be served family-style, with each diner picking and choosing from the components, combining them in different ways, adding garnishes and sauces here and there. It's not a coincidence that bandeja paisa is served on (and named after) one big platter. Individually, the ingredients and components may seem dull, but it's really how you blend and mix them up that makes this a fascinating dish, both culinarily and culturally.

This blog entry was originally posted 21 September 2010 on the www.29-95.com website.

The Woodlands is Becoming a Dining Destination

For a lot of Houstonians, The Woodlands is that place up north where you go to see concerts. We make the trek up I-45 to the Cynthia Woods Mitchell Pavilion to see the likes of Jimmy Buffett, Van Morrison, or, perhaps because we got free tickets, Creed.

Pulled pork sliders at Jasper's

We may catch a bite while we're there - maybe a sandwich shop or Landry's or the Cheesecake Factory. And when the music stops, we drive back to the cocoon of the inner loop.

Recently, The Woodlands gained notoriety for more than just concerts. Travel + Leisure Magazine named The Woodlands one of the "Coolest Suburbs Worth a Visit." Uber-indie rock band Arcade Fire wrote a whole album called "The Suburbs" inspired by the founding members' experience growing up there ("Living in the sprawl/Dead shopping malls rise like mountains beyond mountains"). And Hubbell & Hudson, the gourmet supermarket and foodie mecca, was named Retailer of the Year by the National Association for the Specialty Food Trade.

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Hubbell & Hudson Market & Bistro

It's this last bit that I find particularly interesting. Recently, I've had the opportunity to spend time at several of The Woodlands' best restaurants, always with an obligatory trip to Hubbell & Hudson before dinner to pick up some fresh pasta, dry aged steaks, or bread that's baked fresh several times throughout the day. After dinner, on the way back to Houston, with a cooler in the trunk filled with Hubbell & Hudson goodies I can't get inside the loop, I've found myself in agreement with something others have noticed: The Woodlands is becoming a legitimate dining and food destination.

And it's more than just the restaurants that make it an attractive source for good food. As an urban development, The Woodlands also benefits from an enlightened sense of design and planning. The Town Center area is built around pedestrian friendly areas such as Waterway Square and Market Square. Restaurants, bars and shops commingle in a sophisticated way to encourage outdoor eating, strolling from restaurants to coffee shops or wine bars for a nightcap, running into neighbors, lounging on benches, listening to free concerts and eating ice cream with the family. Of course, The Woodlands can't measure up to the well-established and effortless urbanity of the piazzas of Europe, but it would be difficult to find a better-planned and more successful urban experience in the greater Houston area.

Which, I believe, adds to a great dining experience. Sidewalk cafés may be both a cliché and a holy grail of utopian city planners, but the fact is that most city dwellers enjoy the bustle and camaraderie of outdoor dining, busy sidewalks and adjacent piazzas filled with families strolling around in a suburban Texas version of the la passegiata. The Woodlands creates this sense of urbanity in a convincing way, and this adds to the attraction of many of its finest restaurants.

Jasper's

Take Jasper's for example. Billing itself as "Gourmet Backyard Cuisine," this Dallas-based restaurant anchors the west end of the Market Square neighborhood. Fancy slogans aside, Jasper's offers kicked-up comfort food in an urbane, upscale setting. The food is consistently well-executed and the service is always professional and friendly. Two large outdoor seating areas overlook the rectangular greenspace of Market Square. Jasper's outdoor seating areas, with their groupings of tables, couches and fireplaces, contribute to the uniquely urban quality of Market Square, especially when the weather is cooler in the spring and fall. Not to be outdone, the highly-regarded 1252 Tapas bar sits on the north side of Market Square, adjacent to the always busy Crú Wine Bar. The east end of the square is anchored by the Tommy Bahama Café - named after and adjacent to the clothing retailer of the same name.

Of course, The Woodlands isn't without its perceived drawbacks. It's both blessed and cursed by its image as an unmistakably wealthy enclave (median family income is $113,243). On the plus side, it's a relaxed and comfortable place to bring a family for dinner or a concert. On the other hand, its predominantly white population (92%) may feel homogeneous and sanitized to some people. Wealth and status are revered and flaunted here, from the obligatory Bentley parked in front of the best restaurants to the tanned and toned soccer moms driving Cadillac Escalades.

Still, a palpable sense of community and urban living in The Woodlands can't be denied. And the dining options continue to expand. It's been reported that Marco Wiles, the quintessential inner loop chef and restaurateur, is venturing north to open a restaurant in the space formerly occupied by Tesar's Modern Steak and Seafood. Though for some it may seem like a world away, The Woodlands continues to build on its growing reputation as a food and dining destination for all Houstonians.

This blog entry was originally posted 16 September 2010 on the www.29-95.com website.

Last of the Summer Crabs at Benno's

On a recent Saturday afternoon I sat on the patio at Benno's on the Beach in Galveston eating what seemed like bushels of whole blue crabs.

Time for crabs at Benno's

I was with four of my most die-hard blue crab-loving friends. Amid the cacophony of a choppy Gulf surf, screeching seagulls, and the roar of Harley-Davidsons cruising Seawall Boulevard, we quietly assumed the position of all serious crab eaters: heads down, wooden mallets at the ready, reams of paper towels within easy reach.

Eating blue crabs is somewhat of an art. The technique of eating whole blue crabs often takes years of delicious practice: the ability to delicately crack the claw without damaging the meat inside, extracting chunks of meat from even the tiniest of crevices in the crab's body, twisting and turning a crab leg so it pops out with a nugget of crab meat known as a "crab lollipop." On this day we sat and worked earnestly, employing our learned technique, goggling at the occasional jumbo lump of crab meat extracted, oblivious to each other except for the occasional wayward bit of splintered crab shell that would fly into our purview, courtesy of our neighbor's overexcited mallet.

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Among many blue crab connoisseurs in the greater Houston area, Benno's is the gold standard in both quality and size of crab, as well as in the consistency and diversity of preparation. In my small group of crab aficionados, the phrase most often heard is "I've never eaten a bad crab at Benno's."

"We source all of our crabs directly from local crab fishermen around Galveston," says Tracy Deltz, Benno's owner and manager (and son of founder Benno Deltz). Alluding to the consistent quality of his crabs, I asked Tracy about the rumor of Texas crab fishermen reserving Texas' best crabs for high-paying distributors along the east coast, particularly Maryland. "I've heard of that happening, but we certainly aren't affected by it. Our sources provide us with the best crabs that Galveston waters have to offer." On the day I visited, the crabs bore this out - big, meaty "jumbos" measuring 5-6 inches across.

Blue crab season traditionally runs from around March through October when waters are warmest. However, because Texas Gulf Coast waters are relatively warm throughout most of the year, Benno's can offer whole blue crab almost year-round. According to Deltz, the current harvest of crabs is a bumper crop: "Earlier in the season after the Gulf oil spill happened, supplies tightened up. But now, we're seeing the most crabs we've seen all year."

Benno's serves its crabs using two basic preparations: boiled and fried. Boiled comes in the original and the garlic-butter variety. The original is the simplest preparation: just a blue crab boiled in water and seasonings. If you want the most pure and essential flavor of blue crab, this is a great choice. Kicking it up a notch, the garlic-butter option douses the boiled crab in an unctuous sauce of garlic-infused butter that seeps into every crack and crevice of the crab. Gobs of the butter sauce fill the crab's body cavity and pool in the bottom of the tray in which the the crabs arrive. Fresh garlic bread is provided for sopping up the remaining liquid.

The fried preparations, on the other hand, infuse the crab meat with an additional complexity of flavor. There's a traditional fried crab which is breaded and then deep fried. The other dish is called "Cajun-fried" but is equivalent to the traditional Southeast Texas "barbecue crab" preparation. The cleaned crab is dredged in a spicy Cajun-influenced dry rub, then flash fried until the meat is moist and flaky, but not mushy.

Traditional fried crabs at Benno's

A note on ordering and atmosphere at Benno's. You place your order at the counter, then take a number to your table where the food is delivered when it's ready. At the height of a summertime weekend, the line can get long (a 20-30 minute wait is not uncommon) and it can take just as long to get your food. But that's just part of the summertime tradition at Benno's. The atmosphere is casual. Families literally step off the beach, cross Seawall Boulevard and get in line. At the height of summer it's not unusual to see the patio filled with families wearing bathing suits or wrapped in beach towels. Fortunately, on this Saturday, there was no line and the restaurant was half full, thanks to summer winding down and school having just started the week before.

Whole blue crabs are ordered by the pound. On the day we visited, the cost was $15.95 for two pounds. This is equivalent to about four large or five medium-sized crabs. Among the five of us, we ordered two pounds of each preparation - original boiled, butter-garlic, traditional fried and Cajun fried - for a total of eight pounds. Combined with the included garlic bread, french fries, and corn on the cob, we were all well-satisfied.

After polishing off the last of these summer crabs, we glanced around furtively at each other, orgy complete, the flotsam and jetsam of crab guts ringing our mouths, crab shell pieces pooling in our laps. We surveyed the destruction before us. Trays of deconstructed blue crabs covered the table, picked so perfectly clean that they appear to have been run through some type of crab woodchipper. Benno's never disappoints.

This blog entry was originally posted 8 September 2010 on the www.29-95.com website.

All In the Indian Food Truck Family

The sign on the food truck parked next to a Valero gas station in the hinterlands of northwest Houston reads, "The Original Desi Dhaba." I found this to be a curious statement. I mean, in order for something to be original, there has to be more than one, right? And there aren't a lot of dhabas in Houston.

Mr. Vinod Mehra welcomes you to his food truck

A dhaba is a traditional roadside food stand of northern India that, depending on who you ask, serves either the most dreadful and dangerous, or the most delicious and authentic, Indian street food.

I had ventured far north on Veteran's Memorial Drive to specifically check out this truck. The food truck craze sweeping through cities like New York, Los Angeles and Austin was slowly making its way to Houston. There had already been several high profile successes and failures of "gourmet" food trucks in Houston and I wondered what makes a food truck successful. I wanted to find a food truck in Houston that was both successful and different from the ubiquitous taco trucks for which Houston is well-known.

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A South Asian friend of mine recommended Desi Grill and More, a food truck that's been around for several years, mostly flying under the radar, probably due to it's relative inaccessibility on a rough stretch of Veteran's Memorial near FM 1960. The first thing you notice when you pull into the parking lot is the size of the truck, one of the smallest I've ever seen. If it's a slow night, you'll also notice a South Asian man sitting in a lawn chair near the front of the truck. This is Mr. Vinod Mehra. He is the owner, host and chef of Desi Grill and More.

Every time I've visited his truck, Mr. Mehra has stood up and welcomed me to his establishment. The menu features north Indian/Pakistani cuisine and often includes new or special items. Mr. Mehra is always happy to recommend dishes. After ordering, you take a seat in the slapdash seating area behind the truck. A blue tent covers an endearingly ragged collection of mismatched folding tables and reclaimed Dairy Queen-style booths. One night, a South Asian woman tended a young child laying on a flat, sofa-like day bed of woven fabric. Electric fans offer respite from the summer evening heat, and an old-school boom box blasts desi music.

In terms of pure atmosphere, there are few places in Houston that can match the communal seating area of Desi Grill. Every time I visit, I strike up a conversation with fellow diners, mostly South Asian, who are more than happy to offer recommendations for Houston's best Indian dishes and restaurants. And this is one of the most important factors in a successful food truck: a seating area, small or otherwise. Unfortunately, seating areas are restricted for food trucks in the city limits of Houston. Desi Grill is located outside the city limits, and the seating area serves it well.

Tandoori Mixed Grill Plate at Desi Grill and More

As for the food, it's great. Mr. Mehra has worked as a Indian food chef in Houston since the 1980s. A recent dinner included an enormous Tandoori Mixed Grill Platter of moist chunks of chicken and minced lamb. Eminently soppable juices from the chicken, lamb, tomatoes, onions, jalapeno peppers and lime coated the bottom of the platter. Fragrant garlic naan (flatbread) arrives at the table so hot you can't touch it for a few minutes. Tearing it apart releases a cloud of steam and reveals generous chunks of sweet, tender garlic. Sopping ensues.

On several visits, Mr. Mehra has stopped by my table to inquire about the meal. One night I took the opportunity to ask him about the curious tag line on his food truck.

"Why do you call yourself the "original" desi dhaba?"

"Well, a new dhaba-style truck recently opened on Highway 6 near Sugar Land."

"Is it any good?"

"I hope so. It's owned by my son."

Tandoori Nite food truck

The Tandoori Nite food truck is parked in a Phillips 66 parking lot on a stretch of Highway 6 about halfway between Interstate 10 to the north and Sugar Land to the south. It sits across the highway from the Old Hickory Barbeque Inn, and is sandwiched between a Palace Inn motel on one side and a shopping center with an African grocery store on the other. Sitting in the small seating area (it's also located outside the city limits) is a feast for the senses. Unmistakable scents of Indian spices - cumin, cardamom, turmeric - waft from the open windows of the truck as you watch the comings and goings at the gas station; the incessant whoosh of traffic on Highway 6 competes with, but never drowns out, the sound of desi music emanating from the truck.

In India, dhabas are manifested as roadside food stands often associated with crossroads and truck stops. In an Indian society that still retains traces of a caste system, dhabas are known as gathering places for Indians of all castes and backgrounds. The location of Tandoori Nite truck certainly captures this spirit: a shiny new Mercedes SL roadster sits at a gas pump across from a Ford F150 with it's hood up and "Ruben's House Painting" etched on its side. Foot traffic between the Palace Inn and the gas station convenience store is constant, marked by individuals whose lives may be charitably characterized as "in transition." Novels could be written, I'm sure, of the cast of characters who flit and float through this unremarkable gas station in far west Houston.

Tandoori Nite is owned by Sakun "Ginny" Mehra, the son of Vinod Mehra. As voluble and gregarious as his father is taciturn and formal, Ginny grew up in Houston and most recently worked as a service rep in an AT&T Wireless store. Several months ago he decided to join the family business and open an Indian food truck for himself. Not unexpectedly, the menu and recipes are similar to his father's truck. "My father roasts and grinds his own spices," Ginny notes, calling his father a "master chef." Everything, according to Ginny, is "fresh" and prepared daily. As noted by one of my dining companions, the presence of coriander stems and big, unseeded chunks of jalapeno in several of the dishes bears this out.

Tandoori chicken at Tandoori Nite food truck

As the truck's name suggests, the Tandoori chicken is a great choice here. Big pieces of bone-in chicken are liberally marinated in a yogurt and masala sauce and roasted until each piece has a slight char. On the days I visited, the chicken was moist, with a wonderful (and surprisingly high) level of spicy heat. Small cups of a bright, addictive coriander chutney are offered as a condiment.

Butter chicken, chana masala and mutton korma at Tandoori Nite

Other dishes sampled include butter chicken, chana masala and mutton korma. The korma was a standout for me, with a well-balanced sauce and fresh pieces of tender, but not mushy, lamb.

Neither the Desi Grill nor the Tandoori Nite truck sell alcohol, but it's perfectly acceptable to go to the adjacent convenience stores and bring back a beer to drink with your dinner. Sitting at one of the picnic tables one night, lingering over the mutton korma and a bottle of Shiner Bock, I asked Ginny why he chose this location for his food truck. Was there a big South Asian community nearby?

"Not really," he said. "But it's a good central location, a crossroads. There's a big South Asian community in Sugar Land, and a growing one in Katy. And the South Asian community around Hillcroft Drive is within striking distance."

He also noted that he is friends with the South Asian owner of the gas station where the truck is parked. Which is another clue as to how a food truck can be successful: a support system that is both family and business oriented. The South Asian business community in Houston is well-organized, and a good relationship with a property owner is one of the biggest factors in the success of a food truck.

Ultimately, there are many factors in a food truck's success: a cuisine and culture with a tradition of street food, a strong family and business support system, advantageous government regulations, and, most importantly, great food made with care and sincerity. Would-be food truck entrepreneurs riding the crest of the wave into Houston would be wise to take notice of the success of the Mehra Indian food truck family.

Desi Grill and More
12672 Veterans Memorial Dr.
Houston, TX 77014
832.798.8196
Open 7 days a week - 6pm to midnite

Tandoori Nite
7821 Hwy 6 South
Houston, TX 77083
713.852.7642
Open 6 days a week - 5:30pm to midnite
Closed Tuesday

If you are driving far to visit these trucks, I recommend calling ahead to make sure they are open and confirm what time they are closing. Both trucks are 100% halal.

This blog entry was originally posted 17 August 2010 on the www.29-95.com website.