Houston’s food and drink writers seem to have had an off week this time around.
Alison Cook heads out of town again, this time “just northwest of Sealy,” to review Carol’s at Cat Spring. It seems like the Houston Chronicle‘s food reviewer sure doesn’t spend much time reviewing Houston restaurants.
But who needs to hear about Houston restaurants, when there are lemons and hot dogs in town. Dai Huynh gives us the scoop on Meyer lemon time, and also visits The Hot Dog Stand.
Lance Scott Walker reports on the dance scene at the Gatsby Social Club in the Village.
Last (and certainly least), Robb Walsh pans the Wolfgang Puck Express in west Houston.
Except he doesn’t really pan the restaurant. He doesn’t review the restaurant on its own terms at all. Instead, he seems determined to blast Wolfgang Puck as a contemporary Chef Boyardee, for the mere crime that his Express restaurants aren’t Spago of Hollywood and Puck is now a brand of sorts.
This is the rare occasion that Walsh stumbles badly. Had he bothered to contact the fine folks at the Express, he might have gotten a little help with his facts — and then he might have known that Puck has been to his Houston restaurant twice (not once as asserted), that he really likes Houston, and that he’s taken quite an interest indeed in the Express concept (the concept being, producing relatively cheap, high quality food in an express setting with actual chefs who perform live, in an open kitchen).
Apparently, the Chef Boyardee comparison was much too good to let the facts intrude. It’s a strange comparison, though, given the degree to which Walsh gushed just last week over Cafe Annie’s Robert Del Grande — the same Robert Del Grande who oversees Cafe Express. So if Wolfgang Puck is Chef Boyardee because Puck’s Express isn’t Spago, then what to say about Robert Del Grande in light of the fact that the underwhelming Cafe Express isn’t exactly Cafe Annie? In Walsh’s case, he gushes.
In the interest of full disclosure, some of the information above comes courtesy of Ken Linehan, executive chef at the Express in west Houston and hubby of one Anne Linehan, who’s certainly familiar to readers here. But it’s information that all sorts of media types in town have been able to get through either Linehan or the restaurant’s publicity people simply by asking. Except Robb Walsh, who didn’t bother.
Even the great ones occasionally stumble, and we still love the big guy. But this was an uncharacteristically weak effort. Indeed, it seems to have been an off week for all the reviewers.
