 Party of Five Nancy H. Rosenberg Published Publishing Information Published on June 2002 Published by Texas Highways Magazine Publishing Information Published on June 2002 Published by Texas Highways Magazine It was a self-imposed task, I'll admit, but as tasks go, this was a good one. I was on a mission to find the coolest, kitschiest restaurants in the Dallas area. The criterion was simple but stringent: excellent food, amenable service and a knockout atmosphere. Sounds easy enough, right? Off the top of my head I ticked off a dozen or so places I thought might fit the bill, although, sadly, once revisited many of my old-time favorites began to drop from the list with a resounding thud. A favorite Tex-Mex joint known for its delectable shrimp quesadillas and homemade tortillas delivered a platter of warm (not sizzling) fajitas and dry tamales. Uncharacteristic? Yes, but it also bumped them off the list. A tried-and-true barbeque dive served tough brisket and watery beans. Bam! Off the list. I mean, I was ruthless. So, with old favorites spectacularly nonperforming, what was I to do? I hit the pavement, notepad discreetly tucked into my industrial-sized handbag. I took my husband, my mother, and sometimes my kids. And here is what I found. Kathleen's Art Café, 4424 Lovers Lane, Dallas (214-691-2355). On a regular weekday Kathleen's Art Café is bustling. In the evenings the dinner crowd is impressive. And on weekends? The brunch bunch is thick as molasses. Diners chat, chew and point. The patrons are diverse: here's a table of well-dressed church ladies, there's a cluster of college students, backpacks on the floor. Kathleen's has been a staple on the casual-dining-in-Dallas scene for over 15 years. The atmosphere is comfortable and unpretentious, in spite of the fact that dozens of original works of art surround diners like a museum on parade. Artists are carefully screened then given display space for about six weeks. The works of up to four artists are on display at any given time, and every piece is for sale. Still lifes, photographs, bustling city scapes, and 3D works in a variety of mediums abound. Owners Kathleen and Robert Ellington have definitely solved the problem of how to decorate a restaurant. So if you go and fall in love with a piece of art and buy it, that's great. But I don't usually go to restaurants for the art; I go for the food. And Kathleen's is one place that keeps me coming back for more. The menu is solid and dependable, with fresh, unexpected twists that make you smile. A simple glass of iced tea, for example, is garnished with an enormous, fluffy sprig of mint. Nothing extraordinary, but it shows that someone in the kitchen is paying attention (and appears to have a sense of humor). A small, fresh loaf of hot bread with whipped butter is brought to the table when you arrive. The salads shine at Kathleen's. Mounds of crisp, fresh greens are prepared with homemade dressings and handfuls of fresh vegetables. The thai salad features a peanut-chili dressing, and a plate of fresh mozzarella, basil and tomatoes is lightly dressed with balsamic vinaigrette. Crab cakes are pan fried in butter and topped with a creamy dill sauce. Another standout is the asiago-crusted trout with citrus sauce. The side dishes are simple and delicious, like barely sauteed spinach or crisp-tender carrots. But let's be honest here. The real reason you go to Kathleen's is not for the art or the bread or even for the main course. The real reason you go to Kathleen's is for the desserts. The homemade, fresh, warm, flaky, creamy, smooth, spectacular desserts. They even have their own menu. White chocolate crème brulee, anyone? Or how about a thick wedge of apple streusel sour cream pie? Looking for something really rich? Don't miss the chocolate macadamia nut torte. And for traditionalists there's an incomparable Southern-style bourbon pecan pie. Dinner guests can finish off the meal with after dinner drinks, coffees or cordials. And a takeout counter with prepackaged meals to go means you can scoop up tomorrow night's dinner while you're there. Texas Hamburger Factory, 1301 W. FM 407, Lewisville (972-317-3603). Texas Hamburger Factory is a classic area eatery known for its Southern hospitality and a broad but well-executed menu. Located on a stretch of highway just a mile or so south of Lake Lewisville, the Hamburger Factory is a draw for lake enthusiasts and celebrity spotters alike. Beefy Dallas Cowboys linebackers have been known to queue up at the takeout counter for ribs, chili or burgers to go. There are two ways to tell you're getting close to the Hamburger Factory: first, you can smell the smoking barbeque three blocks away. Really. Second, traffic gets heavy and you can't find a parking spot. Soon you'll know why. Once inside, grab a tray and get in line--service is cafeteria style--and be sure to smile back at the dozen or so cooks and food preparers who grin at you over the top of the counter. In spite of the never-ending stream of hungry diners, they still seem genuinely glad to see you. The atmosphere is part smokehouse, part diner, part "the-owner-thought-this-was-a-good-idea-so-here-it-is." Barbeque fixins' are served from the top of a converted, antique wood-burning stove. A brick firewall in back adds drama and mystique: you just know there must be an industrial-sized smoker back there somewhere. Rough-hewn walls add a rustic charm, and the vinyl-covered tables indicate that some serious eatin' is at hand. The menu is hand-lettered on whiteboards above the grill. The barbeque is superb. Sliced brisket, ribs or sausage is served with a rich, smoky sauce and perfectly seasoned beans. Mexican food is done particularly well; fajitas, taquitos, tacos and five different kinds of enchiladas are fresh, well-seasoned and piping hot. But the two standouts on the menu are the handmade tamales and the chicken fried steak. Sides include whipped potatoes and gravy, corn on the cob, fried okra, onion rings, and homemade biscuits that melt in your mouth. This is serious Southern comfort food. There's nothing innovative or off the beaten path, but this is not a spot for innovation. This is a spot for Southern cooking done right. Hook, Line & Sinker, 3103 Lemmon Avenue, Dallas (214-965-0707). Step off of one of Dallas's busiest thoroughfares into an oasis of maritime kitsch. Suddenly you feel like a hungry Galveston beachcomber who left the surf in search of a bite to eat. The building is old and weathered, surrounded by a wraparound porch that is serviced by a takeout window. Twinkly Christmas lights dangle overhead, and you pass the kitchen as you step inside, where chefs are working at a feverish pace. Inside, rows of tables are weighted with trays of condiments and crackers. Don't look for napkins; there aren't any. Instead you'll find rolls (and rolls, and rolls) of paper towels. The tasteful décor on the walls features tackle boxes, lures, nets, boat props, spools of fishing line, rods, reels and decoys. A table in the corner uses a boat prop to handily proffer a roll of--you guessed it--paper towels. At night the restaurant is a riot of color. The Christmas lights twinkle, the floor is a confetti tile, and even the rice is flecked with brightly hued carrots, peas and peppers. Grab a bucket of beer or a single serving bottle of wine and settle in. Fish is on the menu. Baked, broiled or sauteed, but the real standout is the fried catfish. A light cornmeal crust is virtually greasefree; amazingly, the thin white tissue that lines the dinner basket remains spotless. The fried shrimp is butterflied then dipped in the same cornmeal crust, and the result is light and flavorful. Hushpuppies are long, dark brown and pack a wallop with minced jalapeno. Patrons are friendly and familiar. Two women walk by carrying parfait glasses filled with shrimp, balancing them like priceless treasure. "Is that the shrimp cocktail?" I ask. They stop. "Oh, you haven't tasted shrimp until you try this," one raves. "It's the Mexican shrimp cocktail," the other adds. "Shrimp layered with avocado, cilantro, onions and lime." I get the feeling they're regulars. A man leans over my table. ""S'cuse me, hon, can I borrow some sweetener?" He is wearing a shirt that says, "Cat… the Other White Meat," and balancing an enormous basket of catfish, fries and hushpuppies. I mean, this place is casual. And the food is really, really good. Kuby's Sausage House, 6601 Snider Plaza, Dallas (214-363-2231). There's a large contingent of very happy Germans in Dallas, thanks to Kuby's. Kuby's feels like a cozy mountain retreat. It's dark inside, with heavy trustle tables and counter stools carved from solid planks of wood that is almost black. Heavy wood beams line the ceiling, and the wall behind the counter is filled with row after row of German beer steins. I settled in at the counter, where I found myself next to a charming, chatty woman and her teenage daughter. "We come here often," the woman offered. "The food is great and you can't beat the atmosphere." She lowered her voice conspiratorially. "If you come early in the morning," she confided, "sit near the back. All the Germans come and hang out and drink coffee and tell stories and reminisce. It's really fun to see." Her teenage daughter interrupted. "But the best time to come is on Friday or Saturday night. It's absolutely packed, and a live oompah band keeps things hopping." Our waiter was full of suggestions from the impressively authentic menu. Schnitzels, wursts, spatzles and brats abound. The menu is bilingual; Germans feel right at home, while Americans can do some tongue twisting trying out the authentic monikers of what they order. Schnitzels are a specialty; seasoned and breaded pork or chicken cutlets are fried then served on a sandwich or with sides of garlic mashed potatoes or potato pancakes, which are half-dollar rounds that are crispy on the outside and smooth on the inside. Another specialty are the homemade sausages, which include grilled bratwurst, smoked bratwurst, Polish sausage, Nuernberger bratwurst, grilled weisswurst, knackwurst and wienerwurst. The sausage sampler plate gives you sliced rounds of each served on a mound of piping hot sauerkraut. A remarkable market fills a parallel shop next to the restaurant; there you'll find gorgeous meats, sausages, cheeses, pastries and chocolates. Rows of condiments and imported cakes and sweets line the shop, and a magazine rack up front holds an array of German-language newspapers and magazines. "This place is amazing," I said to my new friends at the counter, as I savored a plate of sausages, sauerkraut and potato pancakes. They nodded in unison. "We know." The Mecca, 10422 Harry Hines Blvd., Dallas (214-352-0051). Okay, so the location isn't great. Ignore the paint and body shops, wildly painted taquerias, and assorted, ahem, specialty bookstores on your way to one of Dallas's oldest and best-loved coffeeshops. I stepped into The Mecca on a breezy, sunny morning with a two-year-old in tow. A disembodied voice asked, "Smoking or non, hon?" Startled, I looked around, then I noticed a bemused pair of eyes gazing at me from behind a towering stack of gum and mint boxes on the cashier's counter beside the door. "No Smoking, please." A cheerful waitress ushered us to a booth next to a sign that read, "If you're smoking, you better be on fire." I was a little nervous about carting in my two-year-old, but the waitress was nonplussed. Once settled, I began the task of absorbing my surroundings, which is not an easy task at The Mecca. The walls are covered with what is literally a short history of Dallas. There are awards, snapshots, posters, pennants, mug shots and artwork that chronicle every noteworthy event (and then some) since the restaurant opened in 1938. Then there are the accolades: "Best Ambience" (D Magazine) and "Best Breakfast" (The Observer), to name just two. The banter around me was going full-steam. A police officer sat in booth in front of me, next to a table of five or six businessmen. They spoke across the aisle. "Boy, where you been hidin'?" asked one of the suited men. "Your memory can't possibly be that short," the police officer replied. "Oh, that's right, I saw you at the show…." Behind me a well-coifed, well-dressed woman was doing her best to exasperate the waitress. "I'll have the migas, but no cheese, and instead of the biscuit I'll have a pancake instead." "I'll be happy to bring you a pancake, hon, but those two aren't interchangeable," the waitress said diplomatically. Miss Big Hair made a face but backed down. The waitress scribbled a note. "There, ya'll happy?" She eased in the last word, smooth as glass. I turned to the menu. The food at The Mecca is inexpensive, plentiful and satisfying. Breakfast is the forte here and it's served all day (or until 2:30 p.m., which is when The Mecca closes). The migas, which are eggs scrambled with tortillas, cheese, onions, peppers, tomatoes and spices, are served with refried beans and tortillas. Golden hot cakes are thick and fluffy. The homemade biscuits are served with gravy or butter and honey. For lunch it's a trip down Memory Lane, where "Blue Plate Specials" are served on melamine plates, like grade school only the food is good. The menu changes daily but features items such as Shrimp Creole, Chicken and Dumplings and Pot Roast with Vegetables. Dessert is soulful; if you're lucky enough to go on a day when Bread Pudding with Whiskey Sauce is served, don't miss it. |
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