Is There a Cure for Remedy?

Is There a Cure for Remedy?

Last weekend we went to Remedy, a newish eatery in the sizzling hot new restaurant destination called Lower Greenville. In the last couple of years it seems like another dining option pops up out of nowhere like a pesky stray eyebrow hair every week or so.  In Lower Greenville there are more valet stands than cars and it takes about 2 hours to inch along one block.  Okay, I'm exaggerating, maybe an hour and a half, tops.

I have to say when I first walked in I thought "I don't really get this place."  It's long and narrow with really high ceilings festooned with some elegant, ballroom-type chandeliers. There are leather couches and wooden tables and a retro lunch counter you can sit at like at  a pharmacy that sells milkshakes and fried bologna sandwiches.  It was like three designers worked on it who were no longer on speaking terms.  Ah well, everyone's a decorator, what do I know?

The hostess chirped a cheery hello and led us into the densely packed, high decibel interior.  I guess because we are such manly men she showed us to a sturdy wooden table instead of one of the slinky couches or the lunch counter.

Howdy Christopher!

Our server was so awesome I am going to post his picture and tell you his name is Christopher.  He is going to be the richest server at Remedy because my legion of readers are going to flock there and insist that only Christopher is worthy of them.  He shall knock every other server to the curb.  He shall rule Lower Greenville.  He shall be knighted by the Queen of England.  He shall become Immortal.

After ascertaining that it was our first time there and fortifying us with liquid refreshments he asked us if we needed help navigating the menu.  I said sure, and he recommended the Deviled Green Eggs and Ham and the Jalapeno-Chive Hush Puppies for appetizers.  Sold! Then he pointed out his favorite menu item, which was a house-made FRIED BOLOGNA SANDWICH! (Am I clairvoyant or something?  I knew it reminded me of Woolworth's!)) Apparently, we looked somewhat apathetic about that option so he thoughtfully suggested the Nashville Hot Duck and the Texas Shrimp and Grits.  Those sounded tasty so we followed his lead.

Will You Marry Me?

The hush puppies were so crispy and light they started floating out of the little basket that contained them. Luckily, I had a collapsible butterfly net in my pocket and fetched them from midair.  I fashioned a tiny wedding veil out of a paper beverage napkin and placed it on the plumpest one and asked for its hand in marriage.  Having no hands and therefore unable to accept my proposal, I had no choice but to just bite it in half and swallow it.

The Eggs were Deviled with Green Goddess dressing, fresh chervil, tarragon, avocado and garlic. There were five to an order so I pretended to knock one onto the floor but secretly hid it in my lap until nature called D away momentarily and I popped the whole thing in my mouth.

One Is In My Lap

So far, so great.  Then the entrees came, and although the shrimp proved swoon worthy (how could they not with bacon cheddar grits, smoked shrimp butter and marinated baby tomatoes?) the duck was so tough I couldn't slice it with a steak knife.  Then I stuck my fork on top of it and tried pounding it into the top but it bent the tines sideways.  Captain Awesome Christopher swung by and noticed my plight.  Making a tsking sound and frowning with concern, he said "hmmm, that doesn't look right --how about a pork chop?"  I readily surrendered my duck concrete confit and in just a few minutes, a good sized pork chop braised in brown sugar cider arrived on top of jalapeno sweet potato hash, mustard greens with roasted peanuts and a hot sauce vinaigrette.  Oh, and a big fried onion ring on top.

Frankly, I found the whole dish bewildering.  It was like the chef had closed her eyes and randomly pointed out different ingredients listed in the The Chefs Companion and bade her minions to create something unique.  They succeeded in that it was one of a kind but it tasted like the dog's breakfast to me and the eye appeal was rather appalling.  I felt bad for Christopher so I sliced up most of the pork and hid it in my shoe and scraped the rest of the mess into an empty water glass on the recently vacated table next to ours.

Koo Koo for Coconuts

D loved his coconut cream pie and Mr. C comped my martini, so all in all, it was a pleasant night despite the wretched entrees I endured.  I am pretty sure we'll be back.  Maybe we will sit at the lunch counter and eat fried bologna sandwiches and scarf down hand-dipped chocolate milk shakes. I am pretty sure that will cure any misgivings I have about Remedy.

Destination Dining: Nora

Afghanistan Is The Plan

Last night we treaded into uncharted waters and decided to try Nora on Lower Greenville in Dallas.  We'd noticed this sexy, pretty place when it opened a few months ago nestled amongst the everchanging watering holes frequented by SMU students, mustachioed hipsters, and tattooed street kids expressing their individuality by sporting identical arcane Chinese symbols and inspirational phrases written in Latin. It has a sleekness and regal curb appeal more in keeping with shinier parts of Dallas than a raggedy strand of bars and clubs.  It also stands out by serving authentic Afghan fare, which is as rare as seeing someone driving without a cell phone stuck to their head in this vast western landscape of upscale steak houses and taco chains.

I guess it's authentic Afghan cuisine, anyway.  I know my way around Tex Mex, Thai, Greek, Japanese, and even Canadian (ugh, poutines), but the menu put in front of me by the welcoming hostess could have been written in ancient runes for as well as I could read or understand it.  We were seated in the back half of the busy bar, as the restaurant side had a private party that sounded fun, if a bit shrill, and rewarded with crafted cocktails.  Mine was a Cardamom Spice Martini, which was created from cardamom infused vodka shaken with a touch of rosewater.  It tasted like unsweetened liquid cinnamon, weirdly delightful.

Sampler For Two

Our server, who was named either Jim or Theodore, happily navigated us through the menu, thoughtfully guiding us through the offerings which at first glance seemed to contain nothing but random vowels and consonants. At his suggestion we ended up with a sampler of appetizers:  Bulanee, which was a potato filled fried pastry sprinkled with cilantro and served with mint sauce; Kadu, while sounding terrible ended up being my favorite, was cooked pumpkin with garlic yogurt and meat sauce.  I know, right?  Also Sambosa Goshti, lightly fried pastry with ground beef and chick peas, and Aushak, steamed leek dumplings with minted yogurt.  The platter came very quickly after we ordered it, making me think it had been sitting under a heat lamp awaiting the private party, and indeed, all the food was a little bit cold but still incredibly tasty. I'd definitely order it again.

Mmmmmeatballs

D had the Kofta Chalao as an entree:  Lamb meatballs simmered in fresh spices, garlic, onion and dried plum served alongside some steamed rice.  Audible moaning was evident throughout mastication. Less adventurously, I had the grilled Ribeye Kabob, perfectly cooked medium rare and served with grilled vegetables and saffron rice.  I really wanted to order the Bastani for dessert:  Cardamom and rosewater ice cream topped with crushed pistachios, but I talked myself out of it since it sounded a lot like my martini plus milk and minus the vodka.

Total Afghanistan adventure was just under an hour and well under a hundred bucks, my kind of trip.  I forgot to say the chef/owner delivered our entrees and apologized for them coming out so late even though we hadn't really noticed a long lag time due to the pleasant ambiance and delicious appetizers.  It was a fun, unexpected outing and we will definitely return.  Or as they say in Punjabi, ਸਾਨੂੰ ਵਾਪਸ ਹੋ ਜਾਵੇਗਾ, which might be really wrong since I couldn't find Afghanistan's language of Pashto on Google Translate.