Just got back from a weekend in Dallas. I missed several places I had hoped to hit, and hit a few places I did not expect, but all in all it was a good trip.
I really wish I’d carried my camera more, as I missed some great photo ops. Then again, my dismal shot of Mia’s brisket tacos probably means I’m better off with words:
The enchiladas came out looking little better (my sister doesn’t like beans, so she ordered extra rice:
Mia’s–On Scott–DFW’s recommendation, and a good one it was. Brisket tacos in all their Tex-Mex glory (albeit slightly untraditional Tex-Mex), brisket enchiladas for my sister and her boyfriend. I still don’t understand why they can’t export Tex-Mex up north. Mmmm…good.
Club Schmitz–A holdover fave from my college days, as much for the George Jones/shuffleboard/two teeth vibe as for the food, but they still griddle up a pretty darn good burger too. Fries are nothing to write (home) about. It’s a good place to drink a Lone Star.
Central Market–A grocery store run by the folks at H.E.B. with a number of locations in Texas, trying to compete for the Whole Foods demographic, and man, this place blows Whole Foods out of the water. I realize Central Market’s not an unknown quantity. I was expecting a lot, and it still blew away my expectations. This is what the chain grocers should be like. An enormous, beautiful produce section, wonderful-looking meat counter, bakery, wine–it was the whole package. And I loved the layout that forced you to meander through the store weaving around and mostly concealing the standard supermarket aisles. I didn’t taste much here (free samples would have been my only suggested improvement), and I didn’t look at prices, but it despite the obvious high quality, it didn’t strike me as as high-priced or hoity-toity as Whole Foods. A great concept, perfectly executed.
Café Kheyir–This place was new to me, and probably to just about everyone in Dallas, at least as a place to eat in. Catering mostly by food truck to cabbies at DFW, the Somalian proprietress recently (within the past month?) decided to slowly move toward sit-down business. Slow enough that there weren’t actually chairs at the tables when we walked in. Undaunted by the fact that the storefront was only barely recognizable as a restaurant, and attracted by a hand-written sign offering goat stew (and the attendant smells wafting forth from the kitchen), I peered into the kitchen and asked if we could eat.
The woman was friendly as one could hope for, and eager to serve. We pulled down some stacked chairs and sat at one of the three tables. I ordered the goat stew, and my sister ordered beef (the other thing written on the sign), which she was told was sort of like fajitas. Hey, we were in Texas. Each plate was heaped with the main dish, rice, and a side “salad” of shredded iceberg lettuce, a limp tomato, etc. The rice had slivers of potato, and were graced (we learned) with yellow food coloring. “Who wants to look at a big pile of white rice?” was the reasoning. Good question, I suppose.
The dishes were accompanied by a large container of sauce that resembled nothing so much as spaghetti sauce (and probably was, since we were advised, to our great surprise, that the other lunch option, besides the goat and the beef, was spaghetti. David Hammond gave
the obvious explanation for this.)
Additionally, we were presented a green hot jalapeño-avocado “salsa” and a thick white yogurt/cream sauce. Oh, and a banana. “It’s just not lunch in Somalia without a banana,” she explained after first checking to make sure that a banana for lunch wasn’t too exotic for us gringos. And finally, after disappearing for a while immediately after taking our order, this very sweet woman gifted us with mango-guanabana juice, which was really quite excellent.
Now I’m no expert on African cuisine in general, or Somalian cuisine in particular, and I thought the food, all-in-all, was okay. An enjoyable meal, for sure, and at $3.95/plate, a heck of a deal. If I were still in college less than a mile away, I’d be back all the time. And even otherwise, I’d try it again. Maybe someone else will. Incidentally, or not so incidentally, I don’t recall if I spelled the name correctly, but the address is 317 W. Airport Freeway.
Café Jasmine–Or maybe it’s Jasmine Café. It’s a market (not really) and restaurant and hookah lounge in Richardson (I think). We ordered a lot of food here, and it was fairly mediocre, but I’m pretty spoiled by living within spitting distance of some pretty fantastic middle eastern food. We got hummous, foul, shawerma, dolma, pita, labneh, pickle tray, pita, maybe a couple other food items, and a big hookah with peach tobacco. Our server was just plain goofy, didn’t know what anything on the menu was, couldn’t really translate from the kitchen, and allowed us to double-up on various items as sides, entrees, freebies, as we couldn’t really tell from the menu what came with what. Still our total bill came to about $40 for three with way too much food and the hookah, so it’s worth a shot if you’re a Dallasite looking for middle Eastern. I’m not sure what the frame of reference is. If you’re coming from Chicago, I probably wouldn’t bother.
I should note that the hookah lounge, which was the main draw for my companions, was actually a couple doors now and had a somewhat swanker vibe than the sterile, fluorescent-lit café that we sat down in, much to our puzzlement. For what it’s worth, our café was pretty much all peopled by middle Easterners (save the wait staff), while the hookah lounge was decidedly not. Our chef was Palestinian.
I missed out for a variety of reasons on pretty much all my high-end ambitions for the trip–The Tasting Room at Lola, Ciudad, Lanny’s Alta Cocina, and lunch at the Mansion on Turtle Creek. Maybe next time.
Cheers,
Aaron