KHOU Does a Hatchet Job on Taco Trucks

The headline on the KHOU website was alarming: "Health department says filthy taco truck vendors found during surprise visits." It was also surprising, at least to me. I'm a taco truck connoisseur.

N Airline tacos

The food can be phenomenal — some of the best in the city — and the price is right. But I'm also a stickler for hygiene and cleanliness. Lord knows the sickest I've ever been is from food poisoning.

So it's ironic that I've never gotten sick from eating at a taco truck. In fact, I've made it a habit to keep a close eye on the conditions of the taco trucks I patronize, and the vast majority are clean and well-run. In my experience the workers are hygienic and well-groomed (not to mention hardworking). I can assure you, if I come across a food establishment that is obviously unsanitary, I'll stop going there and report it to anyone who will listen. Hundreds of people die each year from food poisoning.

So how could I explain the discrepancy between the apparently dire conditions found by the KHOU reporter and my own benign and even enjoyable experiences eating at taco trucks? Local television news organizations are, after all, one of the most reliable and trustworthy sources of news in any community.

Of course, I'm being facetious.

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In my opinion, local TV news organizations are rapidly becoming the bottom feeders of the increasingly murky swamp that is "gotcha" journalism. It pains me to say this because I have a lot of friends in Houston who are professional, ethical and hardworking journalists. But the reality is that we as consumers of media have come to expect sensational stories about deadly flesh-eating bacteria on supermarket shopping carts, and the obligatory sweeps week report (with hidden video) of strippers ignoring the three foot rule as they grind up against sweaty, fat, middle-aged guys. If it bleeds, or gyrates, it leads

I have no idea if the reporter, Jeff McShan, knew of the hornet's nest he was getting into when it comes to taco truck politics with its undercurrents of racism, xenophobia, and anti-competitiveness. But based on my own research and experience, I believe that KHOU's taco truck piece is just another example of the disingenuous, alarmist, and fearmongering "journalism" that is the hallmark of local TV news. Let's go to the video, shall we?

After the anchors set up the spot, the video begins with a fly — one single fly — buzzing around the interior of a taco truck. We see a clean and well-kempt young Hispanic man with hair cut so short he is basically bald, as an ominous voice-over bemoans the lack of hairnets. Yes, I know even short-haired workers must wear hairnets, but couldn't they find a better example?

Next we see a city health inspector who talks like Flo the Waitress addressing confused workers as "Precious" and berating them about "bad hand contact!" She also lectures them on storing what appears to be a bottle of cleaning liquid too close to a food preparation area. No, I don't want hazardous chemicals next to my food, but again, couldn't they find something more incriminating than improperly stored cleaning materials in a supposedly filthy food establishment?

So what happened? Where's the (rancid) beef? I'm quite sure if they had found a dog carcass or some gopher meat or something, the images would have been played on an endless teaser loop in the hours leading up to the late local news. What accounts for the seeming lack of any "smoking gun?" Because I doubt there was one. Here's why.

One of the great resources provided by the City of Houston is the Health Department's Food Inspection website. Here you can look up the records for every restaurant inspection. I wanted to determine if the inspections of the taco trucks reported by KHOU were truly representative of "filthy" or unhealthful conditions as they relate to other routine health inspections. To do this, I compared the historical inspections between one of the taco trucks in the report, "Taqueria Veracruz," with one of Houston's most professionally-run and well-respected restaurants — Tony's. The results are interesting.

From May 2007 to May 2010, "Tony's Restaurant" kitchen was inspected five times and the "Taqueria Veracruz - Mi Jalisco" truck 10 times. All inspections for both were listed as "Routine Inspections," none were listed as due to a "Complaint." Over the course of these inspections, Tony's averaged 4.4 violations per inspection, while Veracruz averaged 2.5 violations per inspection. Sure, they are different-sized operations, but you would still expect these "filthy" taco trucks to rack up more violations than the fanciest restaurant in Houston.

Furthermore, health violations are categorized into three grades from most-to-least impactful on public health: substantial (most impactful), serious, and general (least impactful). Neither establishment had any substantial violations. Both establishments had about an equal number of serious and general violations in their respective number of total violations.

Looking at specific violations between the two establishments, many are similar and some are exactly the same: employees not using gloves, openings to the outside not protected from insects, floors not kept clean. For example, both establishments have been cited for Violation 20-021.22(a): "Floors / floor covering not kept clean in: food preparation area / walk-in refrigeration unit / food storage area / dressing room / locker room / utensil-washing area / toilet room / vestibule."

Also, one of the violations prominently featured in the KHOU video, broken or open screens that are supposed to keep out insects, did in fact result in Violation 20-021.21(b) for Taqueria Veracruz: "Screens for windows / doors opening to the outside not tight fitting / free of breaks." But in 2007, Tony's was cited for the exact same violation, described as "Openings to the outside not protected against the entrance of insects by tight fitting / self-closing doors."

What can we conclude from a review of these records? Most health inspection reports are reflections of exactly what they are: routine inspections where otherwise sanitary kitchens are reminded about actions they need to take to stay clean and compliant with legitimate health codes. Just because violations are found at Tony's during a routine inspection does not mean it is a "filthy" or unsanitary restaurant. It's not. But neither is the Taqueria Veracruz taco truck.

So why did KHOU do a report that gives the impression that taco trucks in general are "filthy" and by extension dangerous? I think we all know the answer to that. A lot of local TV news deals in the currency of fear, alarmism, and, in this case, xenophobia. Viewers like to feel that they are being protected from bad people and bad things. Stories like filthy taco trucks and flesh-eating bacteria on shopping carts play perfectly into the mindset and beliefs of at least some of the local TV news audience. It's also important to note that using words like "filthy" in the headline is an unfortunate reminder of xenophobic buzzwords like "filthy Mexicans."

Not convinced? Just have a look at the comments associated with this piece on the KHOU website. I'll excerpt a few that are representative:

"Who in their right mind would eat from a taco truck? Some nasty illegal who does not was his/her hands after taking a dump, then right back to making the tacos... NASTY!"

"Leave them alone. Most of their customers are illegals. Let them eat, get sick and die. Immigration problem solved."

"I'm sorry but they need to completely shut ALL of them down. They are just so nasty and dirty. They did an ordinance but none have been followed. Did they think they would?? This report sure didn't surprise me, but it needed to be done, to bring awareness to all."

I can only imagine that for every wacko that actually took the time to comment on the website, there must be hundreds if not thousands sitting at home watching this report, thinking the same thing.

I want to make a few things clear. I am not advocating that the Health Department use kid gloves when inspecting taco trucks. On the contrary, I expect the Health Department to aggressively inspect taco trucks, and all food establishments, to ensure public safety. But I do object to any sensational or alarmist characterizations, either by the Health Department or a local TV crew riding along, that misrepresent the results of those inspections.

Based on my own experiences with taco trucks, as well as on the knowledge gained from researching this blog post, I'll continue patronizing establishments like Taqueria Veracruz (and Tony's). What I can do, and will do, is choose not to watch local TV news.

This blog entry was originally posted 1 June 2010 on the www.29-95.com website.

No One Cares About Your Food Blog

I just finished writing a 5000 word blog post about a dish that no one eats anymore. I didn't plan to write that many words, but the dish, spaghetti alla carbonara, turned out to have a fascinating history and a disputed provenance.

Photo by miss604

I just kept writing until I felt I had told the story. I didn't consider my audience, or where it might get published, I just wrote what I found to be interesting. I can assure you, I would not have invested as much time and effort in a 5000 word blog post if I didn't love doing it.

I don't make a living writing about food. I'm very fortunate to have the time to do it as an avocation. Undoubtedly one of the greatest jobs in the world is to write about food and make a living at it, but lately some of my professional colleagues lament that the job has become tedious and formulaic. 10 posts a week! 500 words each! Barbecue! Burgers! Donuts! Pageviews!

On the rare occasion that writing feels like an obligation, I always ask myself this question: "If you knew no one was going to read your blog, would you still write it?" So far, the answer has always been "yes."

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Still, I realize there are a few hearty souls who will happily plow through thousands of words I might write about an obscure Italian pasta dish or a regional food like barbecue crabs. Many of them have become my friends, and I do feel an obligation to write honestly, accurately, and passionately if only because that's what they expect of me. Of course, that's what I expect of myself, so there's never a conflict there.

One of the friends I met through blogging writes the Food in Houston blog. He's currently taking a hiatus from writing about food, hinting that it may be the result of the aforementioned tedium that results when you feel obligated to write about food. Back in September 2009, he wrote an interesting blog post about Houston food blogging. Here are some excerpts:

One by one, the bloggers have been co-opted by for-profit ventures. And the blogs have changed.

And

Our food blogs have lost the high energy, DIY ethic of 2008 when we all did it solely for the love of food.

This blog post raised a few eyebrows, as reflected in the post's comments. Anyone who was blogging about food in Houston at the time could relate, including me. At the end of the post, he wondered which way the Houston food blogging scene would go. More generic or more idiosyncratic?

Regrettably, I think Houston food blogging has remained stagnant since this post was written. Which is unfortunate because the breadth and depth of topics about food in Houston is large and growing. However, with a few notable exceptions, most food blogging in Houston has either stopped entirely or trended toward generic subjects (in my opinion).

So here's my advice for burned-out food bloggers and those who may be thinking about starting a food blog. Sit down in front of your computer with a glass of wine or a cup of coffee, write about what you love, what you're passionate about, and assume no one's going to read it. It can be three paragraphs or thirty. And when you're done, if you like what you wrote and you think others will too, post it to your blog. Don't worry about pageviews or the number of comments. Four or five dedicated readers who appreciate the thought and effort you put into your blog are worth a thousand readers just passing through.

This may all seem antithetical to what you should do to be a successful food writer, but so be it. If someone tells you the future of food writing is generic subjects written in small, bite-sized blurbs, you should immediately start writing long-form blog posts in an idiosyncratic voice about obscure topics. That's what I did for my carbonara post. I have no idea if anyone is interested in what I wrote, or if anyone will even read it, but I sure had a great time writing it.

The blog posts:

1. Building the Perfect Carbonara: A Roman Puzzle
2. Building the Perfect Carbonara: Meat and Cheese
3. Building the Perfect Carbonara: The Pasta
4. Building the Perfect Carbonara: The Recipe

Truluck's Influencers' Event 4/7/2010

Truluck's, a small and growing chain of upscale seafood restaurants, recently sponsored an "influencers event" at its Houston location.

Truluck's Influencer's Event

An "influencer" is the newish umbrella term created by P.R. professionals that refers to traditional media plus social media types — bloggers, Twitterers and the like. It's what a "media tasting" used to be when there were just radio, TV, and newspapers. The dinner was complimentary to those who attended, including me.

Like several of my dining companions at the event, Truluck's had been completely off my restaurant radar. I remembered going there once in the distant past, when it was in a curvy, shiny, ship-like building a bit further down Westheimer. My only other recollection was that it specialized in stone crab claws.

On this Wednesday in April, Truluck's was doing a booming business in it's sleek bar and dining room, located in a strip center just past the Galleria on Westheimer. The bar was mainly filled with professional types from surrounding Galleria-area offices. An enthusiastic piano player belted out hits from R.E.M. and Steely Dan.

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Truluck's is still very much known for its Florida stone crab claws and seafood in general. It's also taken up the cause of sustainable seafood — always a plus for upscale fish restaurants. Florida stone crab claws are by nature one of the great matches of sustainability and human consumption — the big "crusher claw" that we all love to eat is harvested (ouch!) from the live crab which is then returned to the farm/ocean. It will then conveniently grow another claw in about a year. Talk about a renewable resource.

The Florida stone crab claws that came with the seafood platter were indeed delicious and I could eat my way through quite a few of them. The other appetizers were all quite good except the wedge salad which seemed dreary and droopy, and the gumbo which included tomatoes as an ingredient. This is Houston — don't put tomatoes in your gumbo, please.

The entrees were all generally good and plentiful. Texas Striped Bass Pontchartrain being a highlight. Having grown up in Southeast Texas eating pontchartrain dishes I can say this one was well executed. The Miso-Glazed Chilean Sea Bass was another standout. Chilean sea bass is usually shunned for its un-sustainability, but according to Truluck's they get their's from a sustainable farm off the coast of Chile (or is that Argentina?).

Service for the evening was professional and friendly. The general manager made frequent trips to the table and seemed genuinely interested in our experience. The wine pairings were good for the mid-range wines they served us.

Overall, Truluck's made a very positive showing for this influencer's dinner. If I'm in the mood for Florida stone crab claws, this will be the first place I think about and will go out of the way to get there. If I'm in the Galleria area without plans for lunch or dinner, and I'm in the mood for seafood, I'd definitely consider visiting Truluck's.

Houston Press Menu of Menus Extravaganza

It's springtime in Houston, and that means a flurry of festival activity: wine, food, crawfish, art, art cars — we've got it all. One of my favorites is the Houston Press Menu of Menus Extravanganza.

I've attended the last couple of years and it's a great way to taste offerings from Houston's best restaurants in one location. This year two of my personal favorites, Danton's Gulf Coast Seafood and Nelore Churrascaria, are featured prominently. Other restaurants that I've been meaning to try out but have not yet visited like Laurenzo's, Hearsay, and Blue Nile will be there. It will also be interesting to see what Textile Restaurant — known for the meticulous execution of high-end dishes — serves for the event.

And of course there's always a sleeper restaurant that uses the Menu of Menu's as a springboard to prominence. Last year, an unknown (and not yet opened) wine bar known as Block 7 created enough buzz to make it one of the most heralded openings of an Houston restaurant in a while.

This year's event takes place at West Avenue, an ambitious mixed-use development at the corner of Kirby and Westheimer. You don't see a lot of forward-thinking urban developments like this in Houston, and I'm curious to get a look. All proceeds from the event benefit Discovery Green and The Center for Hearing and Speech. Tickets are available on the Houston Press website.

Full disclosure: I have written for the Houston Press food blog Eating Our Words in the past and received two complimentary tickets to this year's event.

A Catfish Out of Water

There's a Texas A&M banner hanging over the door to the restrooms at Lafayette Cajun Seafood Restaurant. It's only one example of the endearing quirkiness of this Cajun seafood restaurant located in a crazy-quilt neighborhood surrounding the intersection of West Bellfort and Wilcrest in southwest Houston.

Lafayette Seafood Restaurant - Fried Catfish

I'm a sucker for anything food-related that's labeled "Cajun." It's a weakness I fully accept, and it led me to pull into the parking lot of the down-at-the-heels mini-mall that Lafayette Cajun Seafood shares with a washateria (coin-operated). It's an improbable location for a seafood restaurant, surrounded by smoke shops, taco trucks, and Middle Eastern ethnic markets. My philosophy about seafood restaurants is, "How bad can you screw up fried catfish?" Of course, it's really quite easy to screw up fried catfish. But I'm an optimist.

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Lafayette Seafood Restaurant

Even before you step into the restaurant, you are confronted with five, count'em five, signs taped to the front door that say "No public restrooms." Maybe the A&M banner is some kind of final warning?

Lafayette Seafood Restaurant

I was seated at a table by myself in a half full restaurant around lunchtime on a Saturday. Inexplicably, each table had a removable tag with a number on it. Presumably the table number? I'd certainly never seen this before in a restaurant. As the friendly and efficient waiter took my order, I imagined the owner shuffling the numbers every morning just to keep the waiters on their toes. I liked that.

Every Cajun seafood restaurant can be judged by two things: gumbo and fried catfish. I ordered a cup of gumbo, and the fried shrimp and catfish combo. Really, just typing the words "fried shrimp and catfish" makes my mouth water. Coon-ass conditioning you might call it.

When I ordered the gumbo, I asked the waiter about the "chicken gumbo" on the menu. "Is that chicken and sausage gumbo?" I inquired. "No," he replied, "just chicken. But I can throw some sausage in there too if you like." I ordered the shrimp gumbo. When it came out, it had the requisite dark roux, but several small, rubbery shrimp were elbowed out by giant chunks of bell pepper and celery (where was the onion?). The gumbo soup was thin and one-dimensional, supported mostly with a generous component of salt. In a town with lots of good gumbo, this didn't measure up.

I didn't have much hope for the fried shrimp and catfish and resigned myself to taking one for the team. But when the dish came out, it didn't look half bad. The shrimp were small but capably fried, and quite tasty. The two generously-sized catfish fillets were fresh, flaky, moist, and covered in a finely-textured cornmeal batter. A heaping helping of dirty rice was properly prepared with flakes of meat and giblets, and mercifully devoid of any extraneous ingredients like green onions or parsley. The tartar sauce and cocktail sauce were better than expected.

As I sat and enjoyed my Cajun meal, listening to piped-in music that veered from Willie Nelson to something that sounded like Mannheim Steamroller to "Panama" by Van Halen, I asked myself, "Why, other than the competent seafood and quirky atmosphere, would someone come here rather than one of the many other Cajun restaurants in Houston?" The answer was on the menu in the form of prices. Most of the main dishes were under $10. My satisfying shrimp and catfish dinner cost all of $9.75. The same dish is listed as $18.95 at Pappadeaux and $21.00 at Danton's. It's cheap, it's good, it's Cajun. I'd go back.

This blog entry was originally posted 24 May 2010 on the www.29-95.com website.

On This Day, Louie Mueller Takes the Prize

You can almost see the weight of 60 years of barbecue tradition bearing down on the shoulders of Wayne Mueller, third generation heir to the Louie Mueller Texas barbecue dynasty.

The faithful line up at Louie Mueller Barbecue

I say "almost" because 1) Wayne is at least 6'4" and built like a linebacker and it would take a lot of weight to double him over, and 2) more practically, it's hard to catch a glimpse of the guy as he darts around the perpetually smoky main dining room of Louie Mueller Barbecue in Taylor, Texas.

Of course I'm speaking figuratively — the burden to which I refer is traditional, not physical. And although Wayne's physical bearing may help alleviate the daily grind of producing world class barbecue, it doesn't offer much protection (other than maybe a thick skin developed over many years in front of a firebox) from the inevitable and unavoidable opinions that Louie Mueller Barbecue just isn't the same since Wayne's father, Bobby Mueller, passed away suddenly in 2008.

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To be clear, such suggestions are completely unfounded. Louie Mueller Barbecue is easily as good as, and possibly better than, when the James Beard Award-winning Bobby Mueller ran the operation. It's obvious that whatever tradition and goodwill that Louie Mueller garnered over the decades will not go gentle into that good night if it's up to Wayne Mueller.

On a recent Saturday I stepped up to the counter at Louie Mueller Barbecue and was warmly greeted by Wayne himself, who was working the carving block just like his father did before him. We chatted briefly and Wayne stepped over to shake my hand, but being covered from fingers to elbows with the carbonized debris of barbecued meat, he offered a sweaty elbow bump in exchange.

I ordered a half pound of the fatty brisket and in no time a quivering, steaming pile of meat lay before me on the counter. The crust on this brisket was coarse and complex, and of the same dark brown/black color of the smoke-caked walls of the main dining room. You might imagine that if someone got up the gumption to take a big lick of the dining room's walls, it would taste something like the crust on this brisket.

Louie Mueller brisket

Louie Mueller's rub is famously simple and effective: coarse ground black pepper and salt. That such a complex overall flavor can be imparted through barbecued meat is, in my opinion, a tribute to Mueller's decades-old brick barbecue pits — layers of smoke have built up over the decades to infuse a rich smokiness to the meat that just can't be duplicated elsewhere. Post oak wood is used as the smoke source ("Where do you get your wood?" "From trees!") and adds another layer of flavor complexity.

On this day, the slices of fatty brisket were exceptionally moist and tender, with a dense web of gelatinized collagen that had seeped into the surrounding meat. The fat had been completely rendered and had the texture of butter and an exquisite flavor of smoked meat. The crust was pleasantly peppery, not too much salt, and a slightly bitter note of chocolate and coffee.

After I took the first few bites of this brisket, I announced to my tablemates, "This is the best brisket I've ever had." Which is something. I've had the brisket at every one of Texas Monthly's top five barbecue joints, and up until this time, I had Snow's BBQ brisket as my favorite. But today, the barbecue Gods aligned the planets over Taylor, Texas: the perfect piece of brisket, perfectly smoked, perfectly seasoned and perfectly served with a generous helping of sincere friendliness and tradition.

As one of my dining companions so thoughtfully suggested: Texas barbecue joints are a lot like human beings, they have good days and bad days and you're never sure who's going to show up. Which is both frustrating and exhilarating at the same time; will I get a piece of meat as tough as shoe leather, or a transcendent slice of smoky, fatty goodness? With Texas barbecue, as with people and boxes of chocolate, you never know what you're gonna get.

Wayne Mueller has stated publicly that his vision for Louie Mueller Barbecue is to maintain both tradition and consistency. I can see how some people believe that when Louie Mueller is "on" (which is more often than not), when it's having a good day, when everything is clicking and smoke and tradition soak everything, it's the best barbecue in Texas, and therefore the world.

Louie Mueller Barbecue
206 West 2nd Street
Taylor, TX 76574
512-352-6206

This blog entry was originally posted 9 March 2010 on the www.29-95.com website.

An Ode to Octopus

The first time I ate octopus was in a sun-drenched back alley on the Greek island of Santorini where tourists — mostly young Americans and Brits — go to act stupid.

Taverna with Octopi http://www.flickr.com/photos/byrdiegyrl/ / CC BY 2.0

The days there begin at night, in some unnamed taverna, usually involving table dancing and copious libations followed by a drunken, groping tryst in a spartan hotel room or, more uncomfortably, on the black volcanic sands of an ancient Aegean beach. Sleep is minimal, and morning demands a brief respite of coffee and "continental breakfast." This is followed by an adjournment back to the beach, often with your companion of the night before, topless depending on nationality (oh, those German girls) and supine yet again, but this time in the worship of Apollo (the sun) rather than of Eros or Dionysus.

In such a cycle of debauchery, food is a necessity rather than a pleasure or diversion. The main goal is to line your stomach with material that will soak up the deluge of alcohol that will flow in the next few hours. With this in mind, the tourist haunts of Greek islands earn their reputation for shoddy food. Hawkers use broken English to shepherd you into their establishment where gooey moussaka is the standard fare.

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Tenderizing Octopus http://www.flickr.com/photos/63391301@N00/ / CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

And then there's the octopus. It's a dish that's on almost every menu in the Greek islands, and will often be the focus of a restaurateur's tourist-inspired show — if it's not the dancing or the plate breaking, it's a swarthy Greek fisherman pounding a newly caught octopus against a rock to soften its notorious toughness. Preparation is almost always grilled, and when it's done well, octopus is a culinary revelation for even the most sun-burnt and hung-over international tourist.

Grilled octopus is prepared by cleaning fresh octopus, marinating it overnight in a citrus/olive oil/white wine/herb mixture, and then grilling it on an open flame while basting it with more citrus and olive oil. To ensure tenderness, the octopus will often be boiled for 30 minutes to 1 hour before marinating. The end result will be both visually stunning — long, suction-cupped, tapering tendrils of caramelized octopus arms — and wonderfully flavorful. The mild seafood flavor of the octopus combined with the citrus and olive oil, and a dusting of sea salt and oregano, results in a classic and timeless Mediterranean delicacy.

Grilled Octopus http://www.flickr.com/photos/prettykatemachine/ / CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

In Houston, a few Greek restaurants have grilled octopus on the menu, usually as an appetizer. Occasionally it seems to be on the menu as an afterthought, mainly to uphold the Greek-menu-street-cred of the restaurant — no octopus means not really a Greek restaurant. Grilled octopus at Houston Greek food joints is usually pretty decent, with a few caveats.

The grilled octopus at Alexander the Great restaurant near the Galleria is a good example of what's good and bad in a typically Americanized and tourist-ified grilled octopus dish. The octopus itself is nicely grilled with a smoky char, and reasonably tender. But in deference to American squeamishness toward eating anything that looks vaguely monster-ish, including things like suction-cupped tentacles, this octopus has been roughly chopped into mouth-size chunks.

Grilled Octopus Salad at Alexander the Great

The surrounding salad is all quite average, punctuated by a flabby and uninspired dressing of olive oil and citrus, and some obligatory cucumbers, tomatoes and olives. Really, the octopus here could be replaced by chicken, tofu, or shrimp, and there wouldn't be a noticeable difference. Next time I visit I'll just ask for the whole octopus arms on a plate, with a wedge of lemon and sea salt on the side.

On the upper end of the Houston restaurant scale, grilled or braised octopus will often appear on seafood menus. On a recent visit to Tesar's Modern Steak and Seafood in The Woodlands, the menu included a wonderful braised octopus with avocado, aioli, chorizo, and braised celery.

Braised Octopus at Tesar's

This may seem like an unusual combination of ingredients. But after tasting it, you realize there's a sophisticated thought process involved in the combination of flavors and textures. First, the mild seafoody/briny flavor of the octopus is offset by the rich, buttery flavor of the avocados and the tart aioli. The chorizo flakes offer an extra dimension of spiciness to the dish.

Texture-wise, the braising technique yields an al dente but not chewy hunk of octopus arm. Combined with the creamy avocados and the crunchy slices of celery, there's an inspired formulation of textures in this dish.

Finally, presentation has not been sacrificed — a whole octopus arm is seductively coiled around itself, suction cups protruding unapologetically. The rusty red octopus floats on a slick of pale green of avocado aioli. Flecks of orange chorizo float throughout.

It's the best octopus dish I've had in greater Houston. I'd make the journey out to The Woodlands just for this dish. Although no one will ever mistake The Woodlands for a Greek island, apparently there's still delicious mischief to be had.

A version of this blog entry was originally posted 29 Jan 2010 on the www.29-95.com website.