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| Casa Rubia |
There are so many great restaurants in Dallas nowadays that it is hard to keep track of them all. We so often are out for trying a new place that we rarely revisit one even if we really liked it. Last night was an exception as we headed back for the third time in as many months to Casa Rubia in Trinity Groves. O Temple of Spanish Tapas, thou hast ensnared me with your exotic charms. I think you just knocked out FT33 as my favorite eatery in Big D. At least for now. My middle name is Fickle.
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| St. Jonn The Bearded |
Speaking of charms, the gent who runs and owns the joint (along with the chef) is soft-spoken Jonn Baudoin who is the consummate host. His manner is all welcoming and sincerity served with a side of devilish grin. He always makes us feel important (I think he does that to everyone) but nevertheless I sucked up the attention and literally model-walked to our special corner table which affords those lucky enough to snag it a commanding view of the beautifully appointed room with its kaleidoscopic Sagrada Familia Cathedral imagery as well as all the ballon-smuggling gals with their spiky haired, shirt-guy dates dining and drinking within.
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| Now That's A Lot Of Meat |
Our server was once again Sean (I think Jonn assigns him to us) who reminds me of Jason Stackhouse from True Blood (but not as dumb.) He knows the menu up, down and sideways and nimbly dances you through it--which is mucho appreciated since half of it is in Spanish and most of the ingredients are foreign sounding, like Mojama and Fideo, which sounds like a duo of steel drum musicians. He is always somehow around when you need him without seeming to hover, an unusual talent I remember Mr. French also had on the 1960's sitcom Family Affair.
Go big or go home seemed to be our rallying cry this night, as we ordered this thing called "Tasting Embutido Plate", a true misnomer since it came out on a hunk of sawed off tree trunk. It had Jambon Iberico (hammish) and Jambon Serrano (sort of like prosciutto) and spicy sausage discs called Chorizo Picante and Mousse de Higado con Macetilla Vinaigre (tasted like chicken liver mousse to me) as well as about another three pounds of all kinds of cured meats, some great bread, and a jar of pickles. We ate everything but the Lardo, which reminds me of uncooked bacon white meat, which I believe it is first cousins with.
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| Veggies and Fishberry Jam |
Next came the rest of our dishes in rapid order. I hogged all the special white asparagus which was swimming in an aromatic broth, but I was more generous in sharing the rest. A big stand out was Almejas con Cava, which Jason, I mean Sean, heartily recommended. It was Littleneck Clams with Pickled Fresno Chile, Mint, Rapini and Mortilla Blanca Albondigas. Yep, clams and meatballs together in one bowl, a modern take on surf and turf with a Spanish accent. Also the Mejillones en Escabeche, which were Cape Cod Mussels, Sour Orange, Sherry, and Smoked Trout Roe. The plate was so pretty I apologized to no one before dismantling it in three gulps. We finished up with a dish we've come to love like a brother: Alcachofas. This is Crispy Artichokes with Meyer Lemon, Fresno Chile, Mojama (whatever that is) and Saffron Aioli.
D had some sort of dessert which was like a rich chocolate cake puddling in some sweet cream with berries. I just had, ahem, another glass of water. (Yeah, right.) I woke up with a full belly and a head full of pleasant memories of a great evening spent in beautiful surroundings with wonderfully balanced dishes, excellent service and exquisite company. It's a good thing to be me.
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