Evo Taco Tuesday

To be in Houston is to love tacos.  It's a requirement. Besides the erratic weather, there are two guarantees in Houston: traffic and tacos. The constant gridlock may inspire new variations of swear words, but we sure do love our Taco Tuesdays. Sometimes even Taco Wednesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays.

Evo Taco is a recent addition to West Houston. Its late Summer debut took a backseat to Hurricane Harvey. We discovered Evo after subsisting on spaghetti, mac & cheese, and more clean out the fridge casseroles than I ever knew were possible.

It's hard to not get overwhelmed by a taco menu that contains everything from a New Orleans BBQ Shrimp to Tandoori Chicken. A good plan of attack is to try at least two different tacos on each trip. Take advantage of the full bar and wash everything down with a pineapple mojito.

My first love was the Mediterranean, but I cheated on it with the Brit (pictured above) and I don't think I can go back. My taste buds won't allow it.

The Brit consists of beer battered Atlantic cod, malted pickle slaw and tartar aioli. It's supposed to have red onion, but I detest onions of any color. They kindly leave them off for me. It's phenomenal.

Evo Taco should be required dining for anyone who considers themselves a foodie. The mash-up of flavors is a palate party and I only scratched the surface of their collection.

The open patio is much more inviting now that the temperatures are dropping to a tolerable level. Kick back with a margarita on the rocks and take in as many tacos as you can.

Happy Belated Birthday Houston

Now that Harvey has left the building for good, I feel compelled to write of something that passed us by with very little notice given the events of last week. It was in the plan to post something on August 30th, which was the 181st year of Houston's existence. Unfortunately, Harvey seemed hell bent on wiping Houston out of existence. My plans got postponed and Harvey's plans were met with resilience and grit. Houston wasn't having it.

Yes, the human toll and the damage estimates are hard to accept. Devastation was everywhere. What happened next, and what the world witnessed was Houston not lying down and taking it. Neighbors helping neighbors, even reporters getting into the trenches and helping with rescues, the tremendous display of compassion was what the county needed to see. That's Houston.

My original thought was to highlight Houston Restaurant Weeks. Every August, a collection of the best dining in town offers a special reduced price menu. It's the best way to sample the more iconic establishments in Houston and at least half price. The proceeds benefit the Houston Food Bank. It normally closes out as August ends, but given the timing of Harvey HRW has been extended through the end of September.

Brennan's was always one of my bucket list restaurants, ever since I saw Terms of Endearment. So, we went for HRW and got seated in the Terms Room.



All I can say is the food was some of the best I've ever had. It began with turtle soup. I was hesitant at first, but decided to eat like it would be my one and only chance. Turtle soup is phenomenal. There aren't any words that can do it justice. It has to be experienced.  It was followed by the Eggs Benedict, my favorite brunch dish. Best Eggs Benedict I've Ever Had. Dessert was a must. You don't go to a place like Brennan's and not get dessert. My husband had the bread pudding and I ordered bananas foster, which was prepared table-side with flames. Again, something that must be experienced by all.

Harvey will be remembered as one of the most destructive storms in history. It did not break Houston. It's hard to describe how I feel about Houston. I have been here almost twenty years and I fell in love with it. The selfless acts of kindness and heroism seen during this crisis demonstrate what I love the most about Houston. It's always been charitable. People look out for one another here. I'm sure that other places feel that way as well, but as of now I haven't seen it on the scale it is here. It's always been like that. Even before Harvey. It will continue now that Harvey is heading for the history books.

Houston will always be strong. Happy Birthday to the city I love and foodies everywhere cannot resist.

Blogging Harvey

I am holed up in my house for at least the next few days. Hurricane Harvey isn't going anywhere anytime soon. Even in Tropical Storm form, it is going to be brutal. My neighborhood is not in a flood prone area. Tropical Storm Allison had no impact on it. Hurricane Ike only managed to rip away a few shingles. This monster may be different. The full impact won't be known for several days. Evacuation would have made no sense because we are not in a coastal area that floods easily. We'd be in gridlock, running out of gas, and fending off road rage.

Found out today that there is no work on Monday. The building will be shut down. I work for a large insurance company as a claims adjuster and we cannot even make it in to work. That's when you know shit has truly gone sideways. It could even be Tuesday too. There's a lot of unknowns right now. Hurricanes are oxymoronic. Their arrival can be predicted but their path can be all over the place.

Since I am going to have some down time, I need to commit to doing some work that I haven't had time to do because of my day job. This blog post is a good start. Any other writing that falls into place is a bonus. Reading along with writing are two loves that get little attention. It's seven o'clock before I get home most evenings and by the time dinner is finished, there's a tiny slice of time for family before I shove off to bed and start all over.

Harvey sucks, but I am going to try to make the most of the situation. Hunkering down with the dogs, family, and a good book with a side of writing sounds nearly therapeutic. I appreciate what I have and  hope that others are able to stay safe during this catastrophic event. Houston and its residents have  weathered many terrible storms over the years and emerged stronger. This one will be no different. We will persevere.

Steak Night in Houston: Episode 2

It has been a great long while since I have posted anything. To make a long story short, my MacBook Pro died a little over a year ago and I have been without reliable technology since then. Santa decided I had been good enough this year for a replacement, so my smile has returned and my data has been recovered. Although much of 2016 has sucked incredibly, at least it ended with a mostly new MacBook Air. Lighter, stronger, and ready to work for 2017 and beyond.

Anyway, I had intended to do a series of posts on steak nights in Houston. I only managed to do one. We drove to DFW to visit family for Christmas and after dealing with horrible traffic and rain the whole drive back to Houston, something serendipitous happened. We intended to go to the downtown Spec's to grab a sandwich at their deletable deli. A quick passing glance revealed no cars in the parking lot, which meant they were closed. I've never been there when the parking lot wasn't full and Spec's is never empty. 

Then I saw something. It was an icehouse looking bar with a sign out front that said steak night $10. That was enough to grab the attention of everyone in the car. We pulled into the parking lot. It was not even 5PM yet, so it wasn't packed. It was Saint Dane's Bar & Grille. We edged up to the bar and were greeted by a friendly staff. The kind of staff with a sense of humor. My husband and I ordered steaks and my son ordered the wings. No red wine, but they were nice enough to mix up a lovely margarita. 

The steaks were delectable. No steak sauce needed. My sides were green beans and creamed corn. Both were excellent. I'd requested medium well because I don't care for bloody steak. It was perfectly executed and well-flavored. Needless to say, we left fully satisfied and confident we'd found a new Houston gem. We will definitely return sooner rather than later. 

Steak Night in Houston - Episode I

Money is tight and not wanting to drop triple digits on for our Anniversary dinner, I suggested trying one of the many well-reviewed steak night offerings Houston has become renowned for.

We've done Ruth's Chris before and it leaves the bank card traumatized and cursing (ok, us not the card) afterwards.

After much contemplation, we decided on MKT Bar downtown near the theatre district. Hidden away inside Phoenicia Market, it would be easy to overlook as an option for something such as a 20th Anniversary dinner. Having been there before for everything but steak night, it seemed like a competent choice. The food there had never been a let down. Our anniversary was on a Tuesday and the advertised special was two ribeye steaks with two sides and a salad for $12.99 per person.

We found a tiny candlelit table that wasn't already reserved and ordered some drinks and an artisan meat and cheese plate as a appetizer. Consisting of prosciutto, salami, string mozzarella cheese, and drunken goat cheese, it could have been a meal by itself. The salads arrived not even 3/4 of the way into the delectable meat and cheese experience. They were fresh, crisp, and everything you would expect from a pre-steak salad.

The steaks arrived and met our expectations just in appearance, but would they be worthy of an anniversary dinner? The plates were huge and the steaks took up most of the white space. The rest of it was taken up by the sides. One bite vaporized any misgivings I might have had. The meat was perfectly cooked medium well and melted in my mouth along with the chimichurri sauce. My twice-baked potato was on point as were the Za'-atar fries.

It was so enjoyable that we've decided to embark on a once a month steak night experience. Next time, we'll see what Wednesday has to offer.

Why Houston is Awesome Part 2: The Foodie Edition

The dining options in Houston are as endless as the variety of rush hour expletives. The world is your oyster when you decide to eat in Houston. The cultural makeup of the city provides infinite possibilities and even the most discriminating of food snobs will find something to satisfy their palette in H-town.

This is brunch at Union Kitchen on Bellaire. We arrived at 10 A.M.  sharp and found a patio table. Swirling fans created enough of a breeze
to make sitting outside pleasant. It was still early, so the sweat hadn't yet started to pool in the armpits.

A quick glance of the menu told me that this wasn't going to be a cheap excursion. But most is forgiven when you take into account that you're essentially eating the first two meals of the day and probably won't eat again until the evening.

Brunch does not exist without a good Bloody Mary. My eyes widened when I saw the words Bloody Mary Bar on the menu. I read that to mean that it was all you could drink and you just doctored up your drinks to your liking on each trip. I was disappointed to find out that there was no bottomless Bloody Mary. Mimosas, yes. Bloody Marys...not so much.

By the time my Eggs Benedict arrived, my
stomach was in full Wookie-growl mode. The
portion size did not disappoint. For me, the litmus test is how well the egg is poached. My recent experiences have ranged from nearly hard boiled to egg soup. No one seems to know how to get it right. I was pleased to discover that the egg was poached perfectly. The tomato, bacon, and avocado sent my taste buds into a tizzy. My normal breakfast is either plain Greek yogurt and some Cheerios or a basic banana. Needless to say, the taste buds are demanding a return trip to Union Kitchen for Sunday brunch.

That's about all I have time for now. My next post will address Tex-Mex, which may be deserving of its own blog altogether.

Update:

I never intended to disappear.  My full-time job chews up all my brain cells and spits them out on the floor. Anyway, in Houston, one cannot go more than half a mile without seeing a Mexican restaurant in some capacity. Taco Cabana is favored by many. It's fast, cheap, and, tasty with soul soothing margaritas.

A little higher on the spectrum is Cafe Adobe. The Montrose location on Westheimer used to be one of my favorite haunts. Unfortunately, it appears to be no more. There are two other locations that I know of. We recently went to the one by Edwards Theatre near 610 and 10.

It did not dissapoint. The beef fajita salad with creamy avocados and fresh tomatoes was the perfect dish.

Margaritas were spot on. Flavorful and not overly strong. Just the right amount of tequila.

I will continue to update this post with more of Houston's Tex-Mex offerings.

Justin Briggs

Below is an excerpt from the short story I'm working on now. Thoughts, feedback, or suggestions are appreciated. Is he too unlikeable? I'm a fan of imperfect characters, but I want him to be somewhat appealing so that people will care enough to see if he makes it out of the bottle in the end.

Houston, TX

October 31, 1983

One o’clock in the morning and wide-awake.

Justin Briggs rolled out of his bed and stumbled over his sneakers. Keeping them beside the bed was supposed to encourage him to run in the mornings with his fiancée Stacey.

Stacey’s absence from the bed reminded him of the epic argument they’d had three days ago. No communication since then. She’d gone to stay with her parents and he wasn’t sure how they’d patch things up.

He staggered to the kitchen and prepared himself a drink: rum and Coke, actually rum with a splash of Coke. He consumed it like anyone else would drink water and then he made another one.

Work called to him. The typewriter on the kitchen table appeared to say, “Deadline, you bastard.”  The profile on Tom Delay, an up and coming politician from Sugar Land, wasn’t going as well as he’d hoped. In college, he could crank out a paper the night before it was due, usually aided by a steady supply of No-Doz. His level of give a shit was now at an all time low.

He picked up the phone and dialed. It rang five times before his best friend Travis picked it up and muttered an indecipherable greeting.

“It’s me. Can you come over?”

Travis groaned. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“It’s one-thirty. I really need to talk. Aren’t you off tomorrow?”

“What is so fucking important that it can’t wait until daylight?”

“Stacey’s gone. She’s at her parents.”

“You guys have a fight?”

“What do you think?”

“Alright,” Travis muttered. “You do owe me for this.”

Justin hung up the phone and threw himself on the couch. He’d picked up the phone to call her at least three times since she departed with a door slam that shook the walls and sent their five-year anniversary picture crashing to the floor.

Wine, he thought.  A trip to the wine rack yielded a bottle of Beringer cabernet. He pulled the junk drawer open and cursed himself for not being organized enough to keep up with a corkscrew. He slammed the drawer shut and selected a cheap white zinfandel with a screw on top.

He’d finished off two glasses by the time Travis arrived.

“Damn dude. Things must be really bad if you’re drinking chick wine.”

“Fuck off. I can’t find the corkscrew.”

Travis chuckled. “You drink too much.”

Justin took a sip of the wine. It really was awful, but he wasn’t fazed. “Does Stacey seem much different to you?”

Travis sat down on a barstool and said, “I haven’t really seen her enough lately to know.”

“We fight about everything lately.”

“Give me some examples.”

“If I bring up anything to do with the wedding, she goes ballistic.”

“Girls pull their hair out about shit like that. I wouldn’t worry about that too much.”

“You don’t understand. We can’t have a normal conversation like this without her screaming at me about something. I don’t know how much more I can take.”

“Are you guys going to Craig’s party tomorrow?”

“That’s another problem. We fought about what to dress up as. When I gave my suggestion, she went completely ape-shit.”

“Hugh Hefner and one of his bunnies.”

“What was her idea?”

“Barbie and Ken.”

“I see why you revolted. One gets nothing but ass. The other couldn’t get ass if he tried.”

“What would you suggest?”

“Indiana Jones. She could be Marion. I don’t mean the grungy barfly Marion. Sexy low-cut, white dress Marion.”

“That’s brilliant. I already have a leather jacket and khaki pants. I’m pretty sure I have a shirt that would work. I don’t have a hat or a bullwhip though.”

“Or a horse.”

“He didn’t have a horse.”

“He rode one, remember?”

“Only cause he didn’t have a choice.”

Travis shook his head. No point in arguing with a functional alcoholic who would never seek therapy for his screwed up existence.

“Do you want me to talk to her? I’ll throw the Indiana Jones idea out there and see what she says. She might love it.”

“You’d do that?”

“Sure. I’m off work tomorrow, I mean today.”

“I’m not. Curtis will murder me if I call in but show up at the party.”

“Alright, I’ll take Stacey to the costume shop. We’ll find everything ya’ll need.”

“You are a godsend.”

Committed to my craft or just flat out crazy?

I'm a pretty visual person, so I really need pictures in order to write good descriptions. A serendipitous job interview placed me in the area of Houston my character lives and works, so I enlisted my camera and shutterbugged my heart out while wearing a dress and heels in 100+ degree weather. And yes, I looked like a tourist in the town I have called home since 1998. I have two settings of pivotal moments in the setup of my novel Miracle at Santa Anita. The beginning and the end are Houston-centric. The middle is in California, so I'm going to have to rely on other peoples' pictures and Internet research for that.

The Transco Tower, now the Williams Tower. I'll always call it the Transco Tower though:

Not a very easy picture to get because of the complete lack of decent parking in the area. People say Houston has the worst traffic. I am more bothered by the parking. So, I found a parking lot and hoped there were no tow trucks around. As luck would have it, they stick to the freeways. I darted across the street after checking for traffic and was able to get an unobstructed view of the building. Actually now that I've thought about it, I probably need to be committed to a padded room or a straightjacket for all this running around like a certain frog character in a video game. Then again, writers have never been what you call normal.

House of Pies, a Houston institution and favorite late night hangout for drunks once the bars and clubs have closed. There is actually a Hangover omelette on the menu. Go figure. I just had a hamburger and called it a day.