Good red wine; bad white linen

Last night we also visited Block 7, a new wine bar that is soft-opening behind our house. It was also the after-party spot for "White Linen Nights" up in the Heights neighborhood, which meant the place was filled with ladies and gents in wrinkled-yet-expensive looking chinos, skirts, and blazers. Very, VERY creepy. (Apparently there was some kind of dust-up with a group of Linenites complaining about a failure to properly enforce the guest list, but that's neither here nor there.)

What was also wierd, but in a very pleasing way, was how friendly the management and staff were, and the remarkable range of wines they carry at retail price. The restaurant/bar is attached to the wine shop, and you can walk back and forth between them, selecting, sorting, and tasting. We had a couple of U.S. Sauvignon Blancs for less than $15 a bottle (!) and after a long discussion with one of the owners, Michael Housewright, he steered us toward an awesome, lightly chilled and slightly fizzy and fruity Barollo that wasn't listed (instead of one of the pinot noirs I'd been angling for). It was a great wine for a hot, muggy night. If you go, ask to be served by Davy Jones -- a tattoo-sheathed front man (whose band, I hope, is called "The Lockers") and a very gracious waiter.

I wasn't blown away by the food, though they're still working up to their full menu, and I didn't get to try the venison Sloppy Joe on Challah that was eying me (I was full of homemade tapas from our earlier engagement, see below). I also saw Bobby Heugel checking the place out -- he's the English grad student cum Mixology entrepreneur who started up Anvil. You know, the same old story.

I didn't get a chance to ask Michael what brought his place about, or even what Block 7 is named for, though I think he's started it with his wife, who was also there smoothing down those wrinkly white-worsted patrons (couldn't resist). But I've a feeling there'll be many more opportunities to get the skinny.

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Everything Old is New Again: Texas Burger

Last night I sat down with M and the folks for burgers. For a traditional Texan burger, you have to have mustard and jalapenos, with bacon a much-appreciated option. But in an effort to give this formula a facelift, I cured my own bacon (a lot easier than you think; check out Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall's River Cottage Meat Cookbook). After curing the bacon for five days, I cold smoked it over a mix of cherry and hickory wood. And I pickled some jalapenos with fresh oregano and cilantro, coriander, black mustard and cumin, using a brine of vinegar and my Yellow Rose beer (pretty yummy on their own).

Finally, I bought whole beef round and ground it coarsely (thank you kitchen aid mixer), adding a little softened butter, salt, and fresh black pepper.

So how'd it taste? Pretty damn good.

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Here, Piggy Piggy...

For those of you who don't know: Houston is a foodie city. From living near Manhattan for a few years (and participating in restaurant week religiously), I'd say it bests the big apple easily. Went to eat last night at Feast again -- it's a Houston restaurant started by a former St. John's chef. St. John's is the London eatery that helped launch the snout-to-tail dining movement -- they use the whole beast, which means lots of yummy, rich organ meat. (Want to feel like real a carnivore? Forget those milquetoast sweetbreads -- snarf some deviled chicken hearts in grape sauce.)



Anyway, last night was someone's birthday, and they rented the top floor (with a nice balcony that looks toward downtown) and asked the Chef (Richard Knight) and master butcher James Silk to prepare two suckling pigs. We had appetizers (including strips of salt-cured back fat wrapped around walnuts and flat leaf parsley) and watched them present, then watch James carve up the piggies. My friend and I roasted a pig for our birthday a few months ago, and I think that our pork might have edged theirs in a side-by-side comparison (though we had the advantage of Cuban mojo). By the way, cheek meat, fresh from the spit -- makes memories from Lord of the Flies almost seductive. But the sides! Kale with white anchovy paste, a salad of arugula with fried cheeks and roast pearl onions in lemon dressing, braised Brussel sprouts -- it was a richer, tastier thanksgiving meal.

For desert: a date and currant crumble with custard paired with a re-donculous ice wine from the great white north. Awesome. Now I just have to find a way to use the 6K plus calories -- marathon, anyone?

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