Boots in the Oven

Remember the 1970s?

'Cause I don't.

I hear they were a classy time, full of discotheques and polyester and the commercialization of the hippie movement, where everyone traveled to school and work via the power of their hip rollerskates while wearing little vials of cocaine around their necks.

Foodwise, there was fondue, and Caesar salad made tableside was starting to die out, and you couldn't find decent sushi to save your life.

And your city didn't appear on the scale of awesomeness unless it had a rotating restaurant.  Chicago had one.  Even Columbia, South Carolina had one, though by the time I made it there for college in 1997, it didn't so much rotate as loom immobile over the end of USC's campus.

But there's one in Houston that still works, and though their menu has been updated a little and no longer includes lobster Thermidor and Steak Newburg (or did I get that backwards and inside-out?) you can still order a large lukewarm martini and watch the skyline float by in a manner that, well, makes you stick to just one martini.

It's the Spindletop, and it's right at the top of the Hyatt in the middle of downtown.

My brother, his lady friend, my husband, and I settled into one of the tables, which at the time was located on the east side of the building.

This place was seven kinds of cheesy.  The elevator to the top was outlined in light bulbs, which were just calling for a little light Kool and the Gang.  There was a salad bar.  The food we saw being carried by jutted out in every direction from the oversized square plates.   It was fancy circa the mid-90s.

And on we traveled, light reflecting off the surrounding skyscrapers.  Thinking we were smart, we'd timed our visit to this odd throwback for sunset.  Any dreams we'd had of an unparalleled view of the setting sun were sort of crushed by the fact that the entire westward sky was, well, blocked by buildings.  Oops.  Perhaps in 1973, the view would have knocked us right out of our rainbow-striped knee socks.

I won't lie, it was kinda pretty seeing the lights come on around us.  A fair complete with brightly lit Ferris wheel beckoned, but we had approaching dinner reservations. 

January's Gourmet featured a restaurant in Texas - rare enough that we'd remembered and decided to drag my poor brother and his lady there.  From the forty-word blurb, Danton's Gulf Coast Seafood Kitchen sounded like it would be a roll up your sleeves kind of place, where the walls were covered in fishing nets and everything was fried.

Well, the reviewers apparently haven't been within a hundred miles of a real country seafood shack in the last twenty years, because Danton's is emphatically not that.  Yeah, there's crap on the walls, but the decor is decidedly American bistro, all black and white and wood. 

They have great prices on some of the best Gulf oysters I've had, though, even if their prices have gone up.

The bear and I ordered two dozen right off the bat, because we're just those people, while DJ and M looked at us a little askance.  They were game to try one or two each, but I'm not entirely certain I've gotten them converted.  DJ did a great job at the crawfish boil he attended with my in-laws a couple years back, though, so I'm not concerned.

Plus, he saw redfish on the menu, said "what's that?" and immediately ordered it stuffed with crab and with a side of red beans and rice.  I'm telling you, we know how to eat in this family.

Redfish is such a delicious fish, all firm and white and mild.  No wonder Paul Prudhomme almost drove it extinct when he started off that blackening craze.  I split a grilled fillet with the husband, and it was very nicely done - and their okra and tomatoes were the shizz, if you're into okra, which holy crap - yes please.

We returned the intrepid pair to their studies and drove the three hours back to Austin.  On the way, we saw an enormous house fire with three fire trucks, a bunch of cop cars, and a posse of uniformed folks just watching it go.  We didn't stop for pictures, but we should have.

Spindletop at the Hyatt, 1200 Lousiana Street, Houston.  713.654.0195.
Danton's Gulf Coast Seafood Kitchen, 4611 Montrose Blvd., Houston.  713.807.8883.

By the way, did you know that the Houston/Galveston area has one of the largest Vietnamese populations in the US?  This is oddly evident in Houston, at least when you look at the parking meters.

I'm really starting to think Texas is overcompensating for something. If you catch my drift. Ahem.

My brother had but one request when he came through Houston a little over a week ago. 

"PLEASE OUTSIDE PLEASE PLEASE.  SHINY YELLOW ORB SO PRETTY WHAT IS IT?"

Yeah, my brother lives in Chicago. 

So, while his lady M studied, we drove out of town towards the Armand Bayou, where there's a big interpretive center and a boardwalk and the chance to see a crocodile.  But we got there late, and no amount of charm oozing off my husband would entice the mean meanie interpretive lady to let us in (though they weren't actually closing for another 45 minutes).

This meant that we'd be heading to another nearby outdoor attraction, the San Jacinto Battlefield Monument in Laporte. 

After driving through lots of bustling industrial smokestacks and gawd knows what, we arrived at the tallest monument tower in the world, built in the 1930s to commemorate the Battle of San Jacinto, when Texas won its independence from Mexico.

Seriously, the thing is 15 feet taller than the Washington Monument, and it's sort of off by itself in a field.  The base houses a museum and interpretive center, which is free and full of tidbits like Santa Anna's glove and Stephen F. Austin's china service.

Austin's own sculptress Elisabet Ney, whose museum we went to a couple of weeks ago (not that you'd know it by looking at the blog, dammit) was represented.  Here's her bust of Sam Houston.

Plus, they've got fun stuff like a raisin pitter for making mincemeat and an old-fashioned waffle iron, that looks like an enormously impractical extravagance.  I felt it burning me through the plexiglass display cabinet.

But the fun fun thing to do is take the elevator up to the top for $4.  The operator didn't appreciate our joking about our limited stop options - say, letting us get off halfway.

The view was marginally interesting.  There was a reflecting pool, I guess to invite further comparison to DC's monument, which - did I mention - is 15 feet shorter.

There's also a view of the wetlands heading off towards the Gulf.

And then some of the industry the area's famous for, of course. 

Yeah, well.  You're in Texas, so there's none of that nonsense about being able to see other states, and you're in East Texas, so the topography is just flat and wet. 

One father beckoned his children over to a set of pay binoculars.  "Hey, you can see all the way to I-10 from here!" 

Wow - I-10!

Next stop - outside!  Bro was thrilled.  There's a fairly short boardwalk that keeps you above the boggy ground.  Little minnows and guppies and something larger and floppy moved around under the surface of the water, and red-winged blackbirds and bluejays and grackles alit on the trees and bushes.

It was actually a nice little walk, with only a couple of other people around.  Here are a couple of the important men in my life, who don't look quite this much like each other in real life.

There were cool views of the monument from the trail, but unfortunately that was facing just about due west.  Oh well.

There's a little bit of Texas history for y'all.  If you'd like to learn more about the battle or the monument, go here, to the memorial's site.  They're having a big party there in a couple of weeks to mark the anniversary of the battle, so hey - go!

We took the long way back into town to fulfill another request of my urban planning geography brother guy.  The Fred Hartman Bridge is an over-engineered cable bridge spanning the shipping channel. 

It's another thing you can see from the top of the Battlefield Monument - hey, it's not all I-10 around here, baybee!

We got one picture of it in all its glory through my filthy windshield, highlighting the eyelash or something that's found its way into the inner sanctum of my tiny Canon.

And, if you're wondering, this is what it looks like when a $117.5 million dollar bridge decides it wants you for a tasty snack.

After a nice afternoon of unabashedly dorky fun, we regathered Lady M and went to a rotating bar.  Where it's hard to take pictures, but I tried.  Laters.

Xiong's Cafe - I welcome our dumpling overlords.

Last week we drove to Houston to piss off a waitress.

Naw.  Actually, we drove to Houston to see my broheim and his ladyfriend, M, who's attending Rice. 

Pissing off the waitress was gravy on the cake.  Or is that icing on the turkey?  I don't know, my brain's pretty much completely stopped working after four weeks of reading those essays by our Texas 16 year olds. 

Where was I?  Oh, right... DUMPLINGS!

We left Austin a little later than we meant to last Saturday to meet these dear family members, so we asked them if they'd mind meeting us in far west Houston for a few hundred dumplings.  They kindly obliged, so we met in the middle of what seemed to be a freaking mile of various Asian businesses, all in huge strip malls, at Xiong's Cafe.

The dumpling house itself was completely full, but they accommodated us next door in the tea house.

Where we did a good bit of dickering about what to order.  When we finally did get our order together and presented it to our by now already suffering waitress, she said "You can't eat that."  So we dropped thirty dumplings off the list and looked at her hopefully.  Pass.

The first two things she dropped on the table were still wrapped in plastic.

First - preserved egg and jalapeno.  Fugly dish.

I actually liked this a lot, though it was sort of challenging to eat with chopsticks.  I've had preserved egg once before and thought it was a little ammonia-ey (though maybe that was just a bad egg?), but none of that flavor came through here.  Just nice comforting eggyness and a tiny, tiny bit of spice.  Tiny.

And spicy bamboo shoots,  with a fresh bamboo snap and again, like no spice.  Still tasty.

We nibbled on these for just a couple of minutes until the next dish came out.  This wasn't on the menu, but the waitress suggested it after seeing my disappointment at the lack of soup dumplings.  It's a pan-fried beef dumpling with soup in it.  Eeeeeeee!

Turned out to be my favorite by a nose, and it came out first in the dumpling extravaganza.  Go figure.  It had that delicious greasy fried dough thing, with the crunchy outside and the slightly gooey middle where the soup resided.  The beef was a little difficult to keep in the dumpling, but was seasoned nicely with pepper and onion.  Here's a bit of an innards shot for you.

This is making me hungry.

Husbear put together a nice spicy vinegary dipping sauce for our dumplings.  The man can't be stopped if there are seasonings around.

We had a few minutes to commune with our new beefy soupy dumpling friend before the next dumplings were deposited on our table.  Next up - spicy szechuan dumplings.  These were $3.25 for an order of 12 - a good deal, even if they were teeny little guys.

These were pretty strongly reminiscent of Asia Cafe's Xhong dumplings.  Porky goodness with a slightly thicker dumpling skin, barely keeping above the level of the chili oil.  Very nice.

More pork next, with a dish that had specific favorable reviews - Boiled Pork and Cilantro dumplings.  Comes in an excessive order of 15!

I did like these, there were just so many of them.  They had a VERY strong cilantro flavor - I'm a fan, but I'm aware there are some insane people out there with a genetic predisposition to hate the delicate leafy guy, so if that's you - don't order these.  Man, this dumpling skin was good, though.

A brief break from the pork (don't worry, it will be back) for a green onion pie, which seems to be the same as a scallion pancake.

M, who was raised in Bangalore, took one look at these and said "Hey, that looks like something my grandma used to make."  Ah, the universal cultural glue that is the flatbread.

Good, if a little greasy?  These definitely benefited from a dunk in that chili oil/vinegar concoction.

And back to the pork.  That didn't take long, huh?  The waitress walked over with this plate, scornfully surveyed our overflowing table, and said "Make room for this."

I'm pretty sure these pan-fried pork dumplings were the first open-ended dumplings I've eaten in a Chinese restaurant.  Dang, were they good.  All fried and porky and conveniently tube-shaped.

And then we had to consolidate a bunch of dishes, because a huge wok steamer arrived at the table bearing an order of mixed steamed dumplings.

The huge braided ones were the vegetable dumplings, which the table didn't really care for - lots of, I think, green onion tops made for a slightly bitter and not totally agreeable veg flavor.  This from a lady who's a freak for greens.  Don't worry, my champion eater of a brother helped us out.

On the top, with the unfortunately split skins, were the pork buns.  I was expecting, you know, pork buns, not these dumplings, but they were certainly good.  They may even have been Husbear's favorite, with their delicate skins and savory porky interior.

On the right - lamb!  I seem to recall lamb dumplings in a Tibetan restaurant in Vienna in 2001, but I don't think I've seen any on a menu since then.  If you like lamb and dumplings, you'd like these lamb dumplings.  Very lamby.

And, well, that's it.  We followed M and my brother back to her dorm, where she had a bunch of work to do in the afternoon.  We kidnapped bro for an afternoon of being outside (after all, he's been in Chicago for the last few months).  Later on that.

Xiong's Cafe is at 9888 Bellaire Blvd # 150 in Houston.  713.771.8448.  I think they're open until like 2 in the morning, but you might want to call them to check that.

Happy Celebratory Birthday Catfish!

Yeah, we're trying not to fall off the face of the earth, we're just not doing a very good job.  Husbear's working his magic for a new movie, and I'm spending my days reading the standardized essays churned out by Texas 16-year-olds.  The job is simultaneously hilarious and depressing, and had I not signed eleventeen nondisclosure agreements, I'd be filling your ears with some real doozies.

But I can't. 

So... perhaps I can appease you with some food?

Sunday was Husbear's birthday!  Yay!  29!  And still adorable!

The man wanted catfish for his birthday.  More specifically, he wanted a whole catfish.  Fried.  And served in the Vietnamese style, like the elephant ear fish we had in the Mekong, see here.

We'd heard long ago that Le Soleil will happily put on this kind of spread for you, so we called a couple of friends and drove over.

Sorry about the seafood overload, Adam.

We had to order something besides the catfish, so why not try out their Bo luc lac, also known as shaking or shaken or shaky beef?

This has to be some of the tenderest beef I've ever eaten.  We don't really eat much beef in this household, but I did see Husbear's eyes light up over this dish.  Perhaps we'll be seeing a home version?  Or maybe we'll just be ordering it a lot at Le Soleil?

The expertly stir-fried beef came with a side lime and pepper dipping sauce, which nicely cut through the meat's richness.  I've had that dip at lesser restaurants and not understood what the fuss is, but with this beef it was just perfect.

Next came the grilled pork, which I insisted on.  Theirs is the best version of the Viet staple I've had in town. 

And plates of noodles and herbs and rice paper started to hit the table in preparation for the catfish.

The pork was perfect and savory and grilled and delicious.  It's a given that when we're at this restaurant, we have to order some version of this pork.

When the catfish came, we all just stared for a moment.  I should mention that the catfish is listed on the menu with five different prices, and this is the size smack in the middle.  Our waitress's recommendation.   (By the way, is it just that I'm reading the  essays of grammar-deprived 16 year olds, or does "waitress's" look strange to you, too?  I had to go look it up.)

I was reminded of  the hilarity that would ensue in Italy when we asked vendors for enough blank (beef, mussels, pasta) for two people, which is how we ended up with this four-pound steak.

The catfish was... big.  Large.  A fitting centerpiece for a birthday meal.

Few things are more entertaining to eat than fish served in this way.  Wet a piece of rice-paper, then pile up the center with some combination of fish, unidentifiable herbs of your choice, marinated daikon and carrot, bean sprouts, and rice noodles.  I'm pretty sure that some of that pork and beef found its way into a few rolls, too - though not this fine specimen of Husbear's.

I would think it would be pretty difficult to fry a fish of that size in a home kitchen, unless you're like my husband's family.  They maintain large setups specifically for frying fish outdoors, though usually the fish is redfish and it's in much smaller pieces.

Hey, that's why we have restaurants.

Somehow, in between all the conversation and catching up and mid-day drinking, a lot of eating got done, and most of the catfish disappeared.

Dude, I was just as surprised as you are.

And like that wasn't enough?  Husbear brought cake!  Specifically, a Grand Marnier crepe cake he'd been up until 2:30 in the morning preparing.  That man can make a serious bunch of crepes - he did work brunch prep for several months, after all.  He's also a master egg poacher.

The cake was delicious, but was better the next day with a caramel sauce.  Ahem.

Such a fun birthday lunch!  Great company, overlarge quantities of great food, what's not to love?

Things took a small turn towards the odd on our way back to the house - I think I'll blame the seventeen pounds of catfish we ate for the hallucination we had on the way home.  Really, an alpaca (or llama?)  in a trailer?  On the highway?

We were so full, actually we didn't eat dinner.  Instead of eating dinner that night, we went out to Vino Vino with the lovely Electric Blues and her lady, and then to the Will wrap party.  Yup, we got to go even though Husbear's not on the movie anymore!  Open bar and a photo booths, this one with an array of hilarious headgear.  I'm pretty sure I'm not going to show you those photos.

Le Soleil is, as always, at 9616 N. Lamar in Austin.  512.821.0396.