We rounded the corner and saw that a renaissance of Deep Ellum is indeed underway. Groups of club kids were emerging from the shadows with lots of make-up and spiky hair and heading into a place across the street called Brain Dead, while couples on dates strolled arm in arm, window shopping rotary dial phones, tattoo designs, and ornate samurai swords. We entered the restaurant and noticed how REALLY LOUD the music was, as well as the buzzy and exciting industrial chic ambience. In a word, the place was rocking. A squadron of hostesses looked up warily as we came in but seemed to relax when we said we had a reservation--lots of walk-ins were waiting for tables-- and assured us our table would be ready in just a moment. "Just a moment" was more like 20 minutes, but it passed quickly due to the excellent people watching. (Have you noticed what passes for fashionable footwear on women these days looks like some sort of cruel and unusual toe torture? I blame Lady Gaga.)
Good Vibrations |
The decor is really cool--there was some sort of old machinery like a corn husker or a grist mill in a focal point of the waiting area that had flowers drooping out of it, and the bar had a righteous metal ladder that slid back and forth so folks could snag the literally top shelf liquors. We were seated in a good spot and were immediately watered without having to answer any annoying questions about sparkling, still, imported or tap, thank you very much. Our very busy waiter managed to take our dinner orders promptly and we anticipated pure-D deliciousness to come sailing out of the kitchen forthwith.
No Comprende |
Sadly, the last dish to come out was nothing short of vile. Smelly, overcooked pork stuffed inside a sticky, white wrapping made the MS Delta Tamale one of the worst things I've ever stuck in my mouth. It was supposed to be served with ham hock pinto beans, but I think they hocked the ham and the beans were bone dry since there was no broth. Our server noticed that we had shoved it as far from us as the table would allow and inquired if everything was all right. I know I sounded like that orange presidential candidate with problematic hair when I pronounced it "terrible" but I couldn't help it. He actually didn't seem very surprised and whisked it away quickly (it also was not on our final bill.)
Maybe my admiration for Chef McAllister's talent in the kitchen made my expectations too high. Maybe the four star review from a real restaurant critic made me think it would be so much more. Maybe the cool decor, fun ambience, and hip crowd overshadowed the food itself. I don't know--but the filament is the part of a light bulb that makes it work, and to me this concept was not a very bright idea.
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