I like the name Rapscallion for a restaurant.  I had a vague awareness of the term, something a rad pirate might say, perhaps, with overtones of fondness for an unrepentant, attractively dashing rogue.  It has been open for awhile but we hadn't made it yet--newish trending bistros are hard to snag in Dallas on a Saturday night at 8 or 9, but since we had theater tickets I booked a late lunch for 6:00.

I thought about donning a blouse-y Seinfeld shirt, a peg leg, and an eye patch, but sanity prevailed and instead threw on some shorts, flip flops, and a white short sleeved shirt that seemed like something a handsome sailor might wear if you squinted your eyes.

Even though the host was charming and full of smiles I felt the need to explain to him why we were having dinner so early so he wouldn't privately think of us as arthritic seniors.  I said we were going to a play, and he asked which one and I said "It's Only a Play" and he looked confused and said yes, but what is it called, and I said it was called "It's Only a Play" and we both guffawed along with the canned sitcom laugh track.  He showed us to our tiny table since the gorgeous hostess was busy flirting with every adoring set of eyes in the room.  To our surprise, despite the early hour, the restaurant was pretty full and by 6:30 totally jammed with SMU students, neighborhood hipsters, and a straight foursome who threw off a vibe that there might be some Brokeback Mountain action going on between the husbands.

At first glance the menu was slightly bewildering.  Every last ingredient was listed for each item, which made them sound like each plate was painstakingly arranged with tweezers.  I hate that. But the plates going by us looked casually if artfully composed so we asked our very competent server (whose name was something like Manny or Manfred or even possibly Pete) a bunch of questions and he confidently explained the dishes and they sounded less fussy so we cast aside our fears and ordered away.

Plate Licking Good

Bacon & Oysters was a standout.  A crispy fried oyster topped a small rectangle of house-braised bacon, with a few strands of pickled fennel on top and alongside, a schmear of cauliflower chowder puree.  It was original, inventive, and plate-licking worthy.  We also had a half dozen East Coast raw oysters, which were sufficiently briny and produced a most satisfying slurp.

We shared the next course too, which was an Heirloom Tomato and Grilled Texas Peach Salad with lemon yogurt dressing and a sprinkling of pistachios.  Yowza, that tasted like Summer on so many steroids it will no doubt be banned from the Summer Olympics in Rio for doping.

Now That's  Burger

For my entree I ordered the BBQ GlazedTri-Tip Steak with Marble Potato Salad, Crispy Pickled Okra and Horseradish Chimichurri.  Tri-Tip isn't that popular outside of California, but it is my favorite cut from a cow carcass. Terrific!  D had the Grass Fed Burger with Three Cheese Pimento and House Pepper Bacon, which was bigger than his head, and it came with sweet potato chips.

Despite the absence of pirates we weren't disappointed, and left feeling like two very full and impish rapscallions.  Definitely will be back.

**Update on Street's Fine Chicken.  Second time back and all the wasp wasted 28 year old guys had been replaced by people in stretch pants and oversized shirts.  The guy next to me had Brie Macaroni and Cheese, Mashed Potatoes and Gravy, and a Biscuit, which he kept "buttering" with his macaroni and cheese. No meat, no protein.  I bet he really likes his shirts starched, too.