Lucky 13
Happy Birthday, Houston’s — and many more, please!
By Erica Wayne 08/19/2010
If Houston’s were a Jewish kid, this would be its Bar Mitzvah year.
And it seems like only yesterday that I watched it rise from a desolate vacant lot and a mere gleam in its architect’s eye to a fully operational, split-level, low-lying wonder. First, just a sign: “Houston’s — Coming Summer 1997.” Then bulldozers, excavations, girders, piers, men in hardhats, stucco, wood, glass, hot mop and roof sheathing, help wanted signs. And finally: lights on, scurrying bodies within, birth!
Nowadays, Houston’s reminds me a little of a beehive: geometric spaces divvied up by long aisles lined with booths for the customers and work stations for the help. Servers continuously scurry up and down the aisles with bread, water, menus and plates of food. The busy buzz of conversation and cutlery, ice and dishes is unceasing.
Once seated, you notice how cozy the red leatherette and cherry wood enclosures are, and how impressive the interior design is. The dark wood ceiling is extremely high, with plenty of room for impressive black ducting beneath it. But the chandeliers (cones fashioned from rose-colored leaves of plastic or wood) are set low to emphasize the horizontal spread — extremely contemporary, but not at all stark.
Houston’s north side is below street level, and the steady flow of cars seen from west and north windows and reflected in mirrors on the east creates its own dynamic. But for all the bustle and movement, indoors and out, the overall experience of dining at Houston’s is peaceful because of the wide aisles. You can watch adjacent diners enjoy their food, but you don’t overhear their conversations.
The restaurant is part of a chain that supposedly started in Tennessee. (There’s a Houston’s in Memphis, but none in Houston.) If this leaves you confused, you’ve got company. The explanation (this is hearsay, you understand) is that Houston was the founder’s favorite city. That’s OK by me. They can call it Sacramento if they want, as long as the food’s good. And it is.
I don’t go often, but I occasionally drop in to visit my “godchild” just to see how it’s getting along. There’s almost always a wait.
While other restaurants beg for customers and send two-for-one offers in the mail, Houston’s is usually packed. We joined another couple for dinner at 8 p.m. on a Tuesday in mid-July and endured a 20-minute sit-down on the bench outside before we were called.
Houston’s menu is relatively limited. Starters and sides, burgers and sandwiches, salads, entrees, desserts, wines by the glass and — oddly enough — 11 sushi items are all listed on a single page. In its early days, Houston’s offered New York steak (my favorite); nowadays, beef-lovers make do with filet mignon ($34), prime rib ($30) or a “Hawaiian” rib eye ($32).
We rarely fancy big hunks of beef — or barbecue ribs ($28), rotisserie chicken ($19) and seared tuna steak ($24), though they look good going by and smell even better as they’re grilling in the open kitchen. My carnivore mate focused on the house-ground hickory burger ($15) with Canadian bacon, onion, cheddar cheese, hickory sauce and a side of fries. The other male in the party ordered an almost identical meal — cheeseburger ($15) with his fries “well done” but his meat, like my husband’s, medium rare.
Our female companion confided an obsession with the Thai chicken, avocado, mango and noodle salad ($18). I was tempted to get the noodle salad (even more so after I saw it), but instead decided to try a California sushi salad (also $18), described as miso-dressed with spicy tuna, crunchy shrimp and California rolls. It was a delight to find (instead of greens) chopped fruits and vegetables, including peppers, mango, avocado and jicama, paired with six overstuffed sushi roll slices. All delicious, and the shrimp roll was studded with macadamias. Cool!
Houston’s burgers are always impressive (two inches tall, open-face, juicy and pink inside) but not easily tackled. The cheddar was a mass of curls, the onion chunked and the bacon unwieldy rounds. Given the enormous mass of shoestring fries hogging the rest of the plate, my husband had a real challenge. After a futile attempt to mesh the sides of the bun and their overflowing contents, he settled for knife and fork. Our dinner partner was less easily discouraged — his toppings more manageable — and he was able to get his bun closed, but it wasn’t easy. And, yes, his fries were browner and crispier.
We ordered iced tea, and instead of hauling around a pitcher, our server followed Houston’s custom and brought fresh glasses every time we needed a refill. It’s that kind of attention that has enabled the restaurant to maintain its popularity for a full 13 years. We really appreciate it.
And we probably would have appreciated one of Houston’s two desserts (apple walnut cobbler and warm five-nut brownie — each $8) just as much. Unfortunately, we were just too damn full.
On the way out, we stopped (as we usually do) to admire the indoor-outdoor reflecting pool at the entrance stocked with beautiful giant koi. Although we love the concept, it’s still our opinion that allowing these fish unsupervised exposure to the outdoors (they are brought in at closing time) is a recipe for disaster. All other recipes, however, are just dandy.
So, on its 13th birthday, we wish Houston’s (and its underwater denizens) mazel tov and many happy returns.
DIGG | del.icio.us | REDDIT