James Pintello was tending his usual Sunday night shift behind the bar at Sevy’s when he received a rather unusual phone call. Someone on the other line began quizzing him–full name, military service and so on. So the veteran bartender nipped the session and asked for a quick explanation. Don’t…
Nobu has a sake called Devil Killer. Not sure why this brew is branded a demon slayer, but a large slanted bottle of the stuff is $20. Maybe Satan is cheap. Maybe the prices would sever his carotid artery. Maybe Nobu is Hades for the penny pincher, which in a…
Chef Stephan Pyles views his life in increments of 10. His Routh Street Café stint ran for 10 years. Star Canyon hung for another decade. Now, after roughly five years traveling and consulting, Pyles is in the blocks for another 10-year sprint, or at least that’s how long his lease…
There’s an inspiring point in the Disney film Miracle, when hockey coach Kurt Russell lectures his team on moments, opportunities or something. We’ve pretty much memorized the speech. Naturally it came to mind when we first considered this week’s topic. The real Dallas; well, to solve that riddle would quickly…
Urban provincialism is an interesting thing. Over and over we hear people inside the loop dismiss anything north of LBJ or lodged in the mid-cities. Much more difficult, it seems, to navigate an unbending multi-lane highway than suffer the halting drive on Oak Lawn Avenue. So they miss out on…
The once-hip patio and lounge known as Republic shut down without warning a few weeks ago–you know that much, particularly if you banged on the doors for a while. Now Jason Quiroga, initial bar manager, reports that he and one of the original investors, Bill McCrorey, regained control of the…
One of the fascinating elements of Standard is roadkill. Not on the menu, mind you. Still, if an edible animal is killed by an all-season radial rather than a sharp neck twist, does it really matter? Ultimately, it doesn’t, because the roadkill is in the restaurant as a prop, glaring…
Jean-Michel Sakouhi is a little bitter. Two reasons: Scuffles with his landlord on McKinney Avenue, and the big mistake he made transforming his Le Paris Bistrot into Figaro Café to distance it from the anti-Frenchism that bubbled after the U.S. boogie to Baghdad. “People understand that food is not politics,”…
Check out this assessment of the West End, gleaned from a self-described elitist, liberal, over-educated aging punk rocker whose name we somehow failed to catch: “It attracts and retains those people that I hate to be around, making them easier to avoid.” Hmm. Why must cultural groups bicker so? After…
Envision standing beer in hand on a Saturday night, waiting for a table in a place overwhelmed by blubber-laden, hairy men in ball caps and T-shirts. Must’ve sauntered in from a nearby WWF match or truck race. At a dining table near the bar slumps a guy with bulldog jowls,…
Here’s to resurrection: About a year ago, rumors floated through the in-the-know circles that Phil Romano and Joe Palladino were set to open a pizza joint somewhere near Medici. Then the upscale lounge slumped, directing their concerns elsewhere–namely, saving the well-publicized club. Now, Medici is reborn and drawing multitudes. So…
As the old Japanese proverb says, if you have the pleasant experience of eating something you haven’t tasted before, you life will be extended by 75 days. Never heard that proverb before, but real or not, Sushi Zushi milks it, turning dining into a full-fledged life-extension process. But for this…
By the time New Year’s Eve 2005 rolls through Lower Greenville Avenue, the institution known as John’s Café will be gone. After 33 years. Why does this matter? It’s the food. John’s packs them in–from lawyers and local musicians to the bed-headed and hungover braving the morning sun to drink…
Not to sound brash or anything, but we’ve always suspected our antics would make great television. Just think of it: the Burning Question crew swigging tequila straight from the bottle, staggering up to a camera slurbing “Wha chu lookin’ at?” and trying out pickup moves on morning news anchors. Ratings…
Every little ripple in the landscape bears a name, such as Walton’s Mountain. Good example, really, because some people revered the sappy ’70s family drama while others despised the show. Naturally, the characters suffered through various plot twists the likes of which we can’t describe. We’d rather eat microwave pizza…
There’s death, taxes and passing the Feed Bag as you buzz along McKinney Avenue toward hipper climes. Ah, but after 15 years of plying inebriates with alcohol-absorbing burgers, the Feed Bag has shut its doors. “The Man wants Uptown money now, and I don’t have Uptown sales to afford the…
Before launching into this week’s topic, members of the Burning Question crew wish to declare that we, too, love Katie Holmes. So step aside, Tom. If she ditches you and accepts our deal, no need to sacrifice her virginity–more than once–just help us promote our religion: alcohol. We’ll have our…
Clams, our most popular item, is not even on our menu –Bone Daddy’s vestibule sign The servers at Bone Daddy’s House of Smoke wear a tightly regimented uniform. It consists of Mary Jane shoes, white socks with lace trim folded down and earrings. Stationed between these garments are black hot…
The age of imperialism ended, oh, 50 or 60 years ago. Not a particularly glorious era. European countries exploited distant lands and beat down peoples and cultures. The United States caught on to the trend fairly late in the game. In order to catch up, we had to grab territories…
For some reason, economists equate piles of rubble with progress. Clearly, then, Dallas is in the midst of a boom, and from the sounds of it one of those irrational exuberance types. Tipperary Inn reopened just last year. Now they plan to destroy one portion of their building in order…
There was the time at a local home-cooking place when a waiter kept pouring as the glass overflowed, covering a portion of the table with a sticky puddle of vanilla shake. He apologized each time he passed but never bothered to wipe it away. Or the day some fry cook…
A younger version of the Burning Question crew practiced delinquency in a small Illinois college town. You know the setting: idyllic town square, red brick courthouse, quaint shops, families strolling to church on a Sunday morning, stepping with great care over students splayed unconscious in pools of their own… Let’s…
