Dempsy's Sports Bar and Grille - Mckinney TX

Dempsy's - a restaurant review.
The newest kid on the block in downtown McKinney, Dempsy's is a sports bar with a giant patio. It is the final restaurant before hwy 5 and is the third installment in this space while I've lived here.
Entrance from the street is clearly marked. Once you get inside, good luck. I stood in the doorway looking for a "wait to be seated" or "seat yourself" sign.
 Nothing.
There is a "employees only beyond this point" sign and the roped off area is about the size of an airplane bathroom. A waitress looked at me for a good minute till I asked if I should find a seat. She said yes so I did.
Another 5 minutes ish.
Same waitress comes to my table. "Do you want anything to drink? She asks.
No, I reply, I'll just swallow my spit.
Points off.
The menu was in some very funky colors and pretty hard to read. There are tvs everywhere and only 3 different channels playing. This is an ADHD nightmare.
The menu is basic pub fare. Burgers and dogs except for one burger that boasts a pineapple/mango chutney. I imagine this burger speaks with a British accent and looks down on the other items with woeful disdain. There is also an upcharge for cheese...restated on every line. Design, people, design.
I ordered a BBQ burger and paid the upcharge for onion rings.
Onion rings are hard to make. They need to be crispy but not burnt. The onion should be soft enough to tear easily but not slimy so you get the entire thing on the first bite and only tempura for the rest.

A BBQ burger should balance grease, salt, and sweet. The sautéed mushrooms are only there for texture and look. No one can taste the baby bellas. I highly recommend bacon on a BBQ burger but not necessary. I could have gotten bacon but it was an upcharge...
My waitress was about as friendly as a badger with hemorrhoids and would fill my drink occasionally then run back to the roped off area to chat. I got the distinct impression that my experience was about as important to her as classified documents are to Hillary Clinton.
My meal came and had a special sauce not mentioned on the menu. I hope there wasn't an upcharge.
The rings were a crispy dark brown and could have got a 16 wheeler halfway to Lubbock. The crunch on them was so loud it sounded like an one break in an 80's action flick.
The special sauce turned out to be mayo with chili pepper in it. Or thousand island with chili pepper. Either way, it was not pleasant. Too thick of a taste. It covered up the flavor of the rings... on second thought that might have been sheer brilliance.
The burger was lack luster. Other than the bun, the entire thing was about as exciting as Bill and Hillary's sex life. The tomato (1) was so thin I nearly missed it altogether. The shredded iceberg lettuce was pointless. Stop using this vegetable on burgers, people. Just stop. The burger was cooked to very well done. No chance for any diseases there. It could have been used in the Turkey Trot Marathon to patch shoes but at least there was no chance of anything living on it. The BBQ sauce was the star. And by star, I mean it was so sweet I expected the Koolaid guy to burst through the door and high 5 me. Well, he didn't and every bite of my sugar burger made me sadder. On a high note, the bun was very soft and not soggy. The mushrooms were fun when you got one. The sautéed onions were a good reminder that my onion rings secretly longed to be funyons.
My waitress took care of the check in record time.

The brightest spot of the whole visit was seeing Matt Bado and his husband: McKinney Summer Musical alum. I hope their experience was far better than mine.
Poor signage, inept waitress, bad design, odd menu, good buns. I give Dempsy's a 3 out of 10. If they are dog friendly, I'll raise that by 2 points. I'm not a complete Scrooge.

Happy eating, y'all.

Nashville Food- Martin's BBQ and Calypso Cafe

I recently took a trip to Nashville and sampled the fare.  I won't do a separate blog for each place (mainly because my laptop is heating my man hood to unsafe levels) so I'll combine them here.

Calypso Cafe, Nashville:
EAT HERE!!! Great signage.  You can't miss it.  There's a to-go place but I suggest eating at a table so your food is hot.


If you are there, get the bean dip.  Bean dips are usually reserved for jock events and is just a conglomeration of all things poly-saturated and has the culinary nuance of school cafeteria pizza.  This was layers of brown beans, onions, pickled jalapenos, and chives.  The jalapenos were also sweet (I love science) so when you dipped the salty chip into the creamy, earthy beans with savory onions, sweet jalapenos, and sharp cheddar, you experienced a level of food harmony that could replace those annoying "coexist" bumper stickers.  The only wasted taste were the chives but chives are really only good for looking at... sort of like the hot girl in remedial math.

I got a taco salad, of sorts.  A good taco salad will be all about the meat. The accompanying flavors should be present only to support the star.  I got mine with a jerk chicken and what a combo!  The chicken was bold enough to cut through all the other flavors (something the ground beef on traditional taco salads can't do) without taking the top layer of skin off the roof of my mouth.  All the flavors worked wonderfully.


Really, the only thing I can count off for is the bathroom.  In theory, two people could be in here at once but that would make for a really awkward time, especially if there's eye contact.  Maybe a divider?

9.5 out of 10.  Good price and they know their niche: Mexican/Carribean food fast.  Fix the bathroom and I'll give you a 10... or at least use a lock that doesn't make me wonder if the door will fly open at any moment.  It's hard to hover that long.




MARTIN'S BBQ:  A GREAT REMINDER THAT TEXAS HAS THE BEST BBQ.  PERIOD.

Martin's, from what I learned, is a local chain bbq serving up smoked meats until they're gone.  I love the business concept but the BBQ left me wanting a bit.  For starters, the walls are covered with stuff.  I hate stuff on the wall.  I know from my brief stint in food that no one dusts said stuff on the walls and that's gross.  Ordering is easy enough.  Points to Martin for explaining each of the styles of sauce.  I didn't get to try most of them but I can tell you that my Southern Belle sauce was definitely sweet.  I wanted to try the really hot sauce but was a bit scared.  Then my brother told me it wasn't that hot and he has the heat tolerance of a Minnesotan so I'm going to go ahead and take a point off for false advertising.

I ordered a stuffed potato.  Baked potatoes aren't super difficult to make.  It's hard to over cook them and they hold flavor well, especially the skin.  I think a potato at a BBQ restaurant should be smoked, not baked.  If mine was smoked, I couldn't taste it.  Perhaps they used pine or poplar.  The Brisket was a bit tough.  I like it to be dripping and falling apart.  If you are shaving all the fat off to appease the salad eaters out there, I think your BBQ license should be revoked and you be forced to eat kale for a month.  As to the balance of the other flavors, it was fine.  Nothing too surprising but a good, solid potato.  The sauce mixed well with everything and I didn't feel too badly about eating the entire thing: so I'll award a point for portion control... but then I am at a BBQ where I should feel badly about eating everything so point taken back.


I give Martin's a 7 out of 10.  More fat on the brisket, make a variable heat scale by which part of the country you come from, and smoke your potatoes.
Very friendly workers.  I hope they don't have to dust all that stuff.

Happy Eating, Y'all.

The Barnlight Door Eatery - Frisco, TX

There's something to be said about knowing who you are and owning it.  I'm a classical musician by trade and if I ever tried to get into an epic rap battle with someone, Beyonce's hair would probably fall out and Jay-Z would have a heart attack and die.  I will leave the Rhythm and Poetry to others.

The same could be said for the Barnlight Door Eatery.

The process of getting a seat is confusing.  There is no sign or instructions of what to do. When I was finally seated, the waitress got my drink order and and asked if I knew what I wanted.  Yikes!  Give me a second to look the menu over.  The place was mostly empty so it's not like you needed to get the tables turned.

The decor inside looked like a chic sort of barn.  Having grown up in Iowa, I know that no barn in the history of barns would look this neat and clean but I appreciate them getting a schtick and keeping the walls clean and clear of clutter.  The chalkboard paint on the walls was a cool touch but other than a dessert menu, there was no use made of the writeable surface.  Oh well, I'll let them keep a point because maybe the artists of the group was busy frying chicken.

One look at the menu and I knew I was in for a treat.  Here was a place that had no idea who it was and was trying to make "fancified" dishes it picked up in Southern Living or Joy of Cooking.  I especially liked how most of the menu items are listed in matter of fact manners: Zinfandel Meatloaf.  Pork Chop. Fried Catfish.  And then, out of the blue we get: Breast of Chicken.  As opposed to Breast of Marmot? Why the preposition all of a sudden? And then you have remoulade sauce, champaign cantaloupe slaw, smoked corn relish... then Brown Sauce... like cousin Maude came to visit the kitchen.
I ordered a salad, paid $ for chicken to be added to it, figured I could afford the special fries (their description, not mine) and work that off in the gym.
My drink came and not to be all first world hissy fit but my straw was kinked.  And that is a problem no self respecting person is going to complain about because then you become that guy that makes the waitress walk to the kitchen for a new straw and then she spits in your food.  I had to sift the water through my teeth.

I think fries need to be crispy on the outside and moderately dense in the middle. Enough salt to make the potato flavor pop but not so much as to cover up the starchiness all together.  I'm a fan of double fried fries.  Their fries came out and I was so interested to taste the special fries.  What makes them special?  Are they cut from potatoes grown in your garden?  Did you add an interesting spice or salt?  Answer: none of the above.  They were once fried sticks from the freezer section with salt and Italian Seasoning.  C'mon!  You can make a spiced apricot chutney but you can't do anything more with your fries?  Plus, I had enough ketchup for two fries.  I don't think I finished them.

The salad reminded me of the suicide drink I used to make at Pizza Hut when I was a kid.  There was so much going on.  Green Apples, Goat Cheese, Pear, Candied Walnuts, Cranberries, Zesty Vinaigrette, Stale Bread Stick, and Seared Chicken... Almost all the right flavors if you just picked two or three.  The dressing was to tangy to balance with all the other tangy foods present. The edges of my tongue were screaming at me to stop.  The only respite from the onslaught of sour patch inspired toppings were the occasional dollops of goat cheese.  The bread stick was great for texture change but I nearly lost a tooth.  And I don't want to forget the chicken.  $4 for a tiny piece of "breast of chicken"!  Most places it's only 2 and they give you both breasts.  I barely got chicken side boob on this one!  Plus the searing around the edges smelled like poo.  Seriously, it was really gross and I think people walking by thought I was having issues.  It wasn't me!  It was my chicken.

I didn't get dessert but I did snap a picture and I think this perfectly sums up the Barnlight Door Eatery:  Key Lime Pie. Warm Cookies. Hazelnut Brownies.  All things you would expect to be served in a barn.  Then, Creme Brulee.  What?  Is this a French barn?  Where did that come from? I'm betting it's a scoop of vanilla pudding with a layer of toasted sugar on top.  You know, if you called it Barn Brulee and added bananas or some other un-pretentious fruit, I'd go for it. I'd even applaud your take on the dish but a place that serves meatloaf shouldn't be messing with the most sacred of French Desserts.  Not when your chicken tastes like charred poo.

I give Barnlight Door Eater a 4 out of 10.
No sign, Hurried waitstaff, Food that can't make up it's mind, and really expensive add ons make me say, skip this one.

Happy Eating, Y'all.






 

Ali Babba's - Richardson, TX

Quick review.  I was on my way to the ballet and stopped in to grab a quick bite.  There wasn't any time for appetizers but if the meal was any indication of the quality of this place, I'm definitely going back.  (yes, I will address the ballet comment later)

Ali Babba's is on the south bound side of 75 and it's a trick getting out of but worth the effort.
The signage is clear and the wait staff was
I ordered a lamb kabob and it came with a side of vegetables and rice.

Rice is one of the harder dishes to do right because it's so easy to do wrong and often, it's smothered in sauce so you can't taste it anyway.  It's merely a filler and not a dish.
If treated right, rice has a flavor worth tasting and can compliment a meal.  It's like a neutral colored couch with a pop of color.
The rice at Ali babba's was just that.  Small amounts of butter heightened the flavor of the rice while cutting through the starch.  It was the first time in a long time I wanted to linger over rice.
The vegetables were everything a grilled vegetable should be: hot and crunchy.  I do love a good char on a vegetable and these were not charred but they were lightly seasoned and perfectly textured so I'll forgive them for not catering to my every whim.  I can respect both methods of serving hot vegetables.
The true star was the lamb kabob.  Crispy edges, juicy, medium rare, and perfectly seasoned.  I could taste the lamb and what was even more amazing is that you could combine all the ingredients on the plate and still not overwhelm the taste buds.  In my memory, this was the most perfectly cooked kabob I've ever had.

Well done, Ali Babba's.

I give Ali Babba's a 10 out of 10.  I will need to go back next time there is a ballet fundraiser in Richardson.  (that's why I was at the ballet... plus, when you eat food like this, you don't feel quite so bad about your own body image watching dancers at the peak of their fitness)

Happy Eating, y'all.

Mi Dia's - Plano, TX

There are only a few people who understand true disappointment: Baristas with master's degrees, Superman movie fans, Christian couples who say "I do" at the altar then hear the sound of the Trumpet of God from their hotel lobby, and people who eat at Mi Dia's.

Mi Dia's is a chain boasting Mexican food from scratch.  When you walk in, the ambiance is new wave Mexican and you are greeted by a hostess.  

C and I were trying out the place and we pride ourselves on winning over waitstaff and getting good service.  We met our match.  Our waitress was about as friendly as a T-rex with an itchy scrotum.  

I was in the mood for a mimosa and since it was a Sunday around brunch time and the Baptist churches hadn't let out yet, I ordered one.  I also ordered a dish I'd never had: Huevos Ahogados. masa medallions with a poached egg on top, oaxacan black beans, chorizo, chile poblao sauce, , and pickled onions. It was accompanied by a plate of sauteed potatoes in a red sauce: potato chilaquiles. Both C and I agreed that it was a special day... not sure why, but it was... and we were going to split a Flan.

Let's just say our good times rolled to a complete stop.

First: the mimosa was so bland, you could give it to a Unitarian.  The orange juice wasn't fresh squeezed.  It wasn't even Tropicana.  I'd have even taken the frozen can of orange sludge from the freezer section of Tom Thumb.  Nope... this was Tang.  A good mimosa needs to have fresh orange juice, strained, and be very close to 1/4 juice, 3/4 champaigne.  The juice is really just to give you an excuse to drink at breakfast.  I'm pretty sure there was more alcohol in a homeless guy's urine than this and while I can't be sure, I think homeless pee would taste better.

Second: Huevos Ahogados got one thing right.  the poached egg.  It was still runny in the middle.  I prefer yolk to be runny and not congealed.  It's a preference.  I also don't like to think the word congealed when I eat something so, again, I prefer runny yolk.  The masa "boats" as they are described in the menu were aptly named.  It was like chewing on the wreck of the Hespress.  Yes, masa is dense, but run it through the grinder a few more times.  I think the only grinder back in the kitchen was on the head cook's phone app list.  The chorizo was so bland, even people from Minnesota would like it. I'm going to bet the beans came out of a can and the only reason they were on the dish to begin with was to give the dish a Mexican flare.  They weren't salted  much and there weren't enough of them to lend any layers of flavor.  I would entertain a discussion on texture, but these mushy little piles of plant scat helped sell the dish and then did nothing... sort of like Bryan Cranston in the Godzilla remake.

The potatoes tried to make up for lack of flavor by carrying every last bit of salt in the kitchen.  If "chilequiles" means, "can be used as a salt lick" then this dish rocked.  By any other standard, these soggy spuds were a self loathing pile of hash brown wannabes. 

Third: the spoon.  Little details make the difference between a lovely meal and dry heaving in the face cacti near the table.  Not sure what was on my spoon but the ignominy I endured desecrating their decorations was enough to make me not go back.

Fourth: The Flan.  A flan is a tricky dessert.  I like them to be light, thin, lightly covered in syrup, and resembling a custard more than a jello.  C and I both agreed that you can have no middle ground on a Flan.  You either get Flan or Phlegm.  

We got a phlegm flan.

It was tall, gelatinous heap of egg topped off with whipped cream.  At our first bite, we both stared in horror at each other and said in unison that the whipped cream was actually cool whip.  Then we jinxed each other until I won and she had to buy me a coke.  We couldn't even finish the thing.  I know what you must be thinking at this moment, "I bet kids in Africa don't have to put up with phlegm flans in fake whipped cream." and you would be right in thinking that.  We should go grab food together sometime.

I give Mi Dia's a 2 out of 10.  The only saving grace is that it had clear signage and oxygen for us to breath.

Overall, it was an overpriced meal with all the quality of a Steak and Shake and none of the wonderful flavor.

Happy eating, y'all... just not here.

Zorba's Greek Cafe - Plano, TX

I don't know if it's a chain.  If it is, it's not national... and if it's national, then there is hope for America.
If you can find this little gem tucked away behind fitness stores, medical device shops, and condoms to go, you are in for a treat.  Signage is clear.  Please wait to be seated.  The other signs were bright, hastily scrawled, and out of place sitting on a Greek column.  I wanted to judge but I'm trying to get better at making quick judgments.  I guess if you have a Greek restaurant, you can't theme the daily specials by carving them into stone or drawing them on a vase.
If you had any questions about what type of place you were in, the menu would clear that up: Greek potatoes, Greek green beans, Greek salad, Greek water... I hope no one walks in here expecting American deep fried chicken.

I started with a spanakopita.  This flaky phyllo crusted dish should be bursting with spinach and just enough egg to hold it together and puff up the filling.  I don't mind bits of feta cheese in it but not so much that you cover up the bright veggie flavor.  Also, you have to really drain the spinach thoroughly before you add it to the dish or you get a mushy, gluey texture on the bottom.  The spanakopita at Zorba's was nearly everything you could ever hope for.  I say nearly because the egg content was fairly high so the spinach was very dense.  The crust was perfectly flaky, though, and I didn't get the glue at the bottom.  I also looked like my mouth had dandruff from all the flaky dough flying everywhere.  It's not a pretty dish to eat but is is worth the awkward eye contact with other patrons.

The Greek salad came next.  Nothing amazing to report except that C gave me her onions and they were some of the most potent little guys I ever ate.  I told C about this and laughed at the strength.  I shouldn't have laughed because my breath stunk and the blast of air in her direction harmed out friendship a bit momentarily.  Crunchy lettuce, ample feta, good olives, and a tangy house dressing made this dish a good setup for the main course.
I got the sampler platter.  If you go here, you should get the sampler platter.  Whenever I go to a new spot, I spend the first part of the meal flirting with the waitress hoping to get good service, a discount, or even a phone number.  At Zorba's, my waitress was a dude... oh well.  He still piled my food on high and was so good at his job, I'm asking for him when I go back.  Well done, Giorgios. But, back to the important part.  The food was terrific.  The lamb gyro was mostly lamb instead of beef, the dolmas (grape leaves stuffed with rice) were perfectly pickled and not slimy like they tend to be, and all the other food piled on the plate was a carb lover's dream! The lamb kabob could have been charred more and it was a tad dry.  The sausage was mild and the sauteed red peppers confused me.  I wasn't sure what they were supposed to go on and unless you eat them when they are piping hot, soggy red peppers remind me of eating giant blood platelets and I'd rather have them fresh and crunchy... peppers, not blood platelets.  The actual meal was not a study in delicate food pairings but if you are getting a sampler, you are probably not giving heed to that.  I'm not judging... unless you ask for ranch, then I'm judging.



Normally, I'd give Zorba's an 8 out of 10.  Fire char the meat, get someone other than a drunk 7 year old, left handed blind kid to write out the daily specials but Giorgios was so dang nice and charming, I'm going to bump them up to a 9!  You deserve a raise, sir.

Happy eating, y'all.

La Salvadorena - McKinney, TX

I have hit the holy grail of Mexican/San Salvadorian food.  I'm almost afraid to tell people about it because I don't want a whole bunch of people to flood the place and make me wait for a table... but then, since I have about 5 readers (love you, Mom) I figure I'm safe.
La Salvadorena (I don't know how to make the little ~ sign...) specializes in pupusas.  While I wouldn't recommend you using this term in polite conversation, at a San Salvadorian restaurant, this will get you a corn meal pancake with different fillings.  They also serve traditional Mexican food so, for the benefit of my readers, I ordered a ton of food so I could give you a good report on several menu items.
Signage is lacking at the front door but usually the hostess/waitress/cashier is there to greet you and tell you to sit where you want.  The walls are decorated with very bright colors and tapestries no doubt made by village women in San Salvador or 12 year olds in China.  Either way, I got the impression they were hung partially for ambiance and partly to cover stains on the wall.  This place is a dive but well worth it.
I don't know what a pupusa SHOULD taste like but these were both comforting and tantalizing.  By comforting, think of a bowl of mashed potatoes and by tantalizing, think of the seared edge of a steak. The pupusas come with a red salsa of moderate heat and a giant heap of fermented cabbage.  The salsa was light enough in the heat that the tomato flavor came through.  The cabbage hit my tongue in a completely different place than the filling of the pupusa so there was no competition for flavor, just accompanying or dare I say, friendship?  I asked my waitress (in nearly perfect Spanish) which one I should try.  She told me (in perfect English) to get the traditional pupusa with pork, potato, and spices.  I also tried one with cheese and one with carne asada.  All were delicious and perfectly browned.
I ordered a torta as well.  This Latin twist on a sandwich isn't usually layered with delicate flavors.  It should be served warm, bread soft and easy to chew, and some kind of mayo traditionally accompanies the filling.  The problem with most tortas is that it's over laden with lettuce and the mayo covers up any flavor the meat may give.  Depending on the quality of the meat, this might be preferable.  This torta was warm, soft, had more meat than veggies, and just enough mayo to give it that signature taste.  I'm not a fan of mayo, usually, but this was well balanced and did not offend my taste buds.
The gorditas were out of this world.  Gorditas are little pockets of tortilla stuffed with meat, lettuce, some times tomato, and queso fresco.  Most gorditas I've had were mostly tortilla.  This was all about the filling.  The meat was a bit salty and the queso fresco is, by nature, salty but when I added the red salsa from the pupusas, it cut the salt and the heat provided seemed to mask the salt.  But, again, I am more sensitive to salt than most so I'm going to guess that most other people would think it's perfection.
Finally, the horchata.  Again, not a word to use in polite conversation but this was amazing.  Not homemade but still mixed well.  Rice milk with cinnamon and other ingredients make this little liquid treat worth ordering.  It reminds me of drinking the milk after you've eaten a couple bowls of cinnamon toast crunch.  Ahhhh, child hood and possible diabetes.  I've since had several of their agua frescas and they are all terrific.
I made a quick pit stop in the bathroom... yikes.  You should probably go before you leave.  It was an afterthought.  And it has a certain, how do you say, Norman Bates quality.  The choice of dish soap as hand soap is fun, I guess.  Some may say quaint.  I just want to know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, or at least be tricked beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the bathroom is clean.
Last item of note... I snapped a photo of the kitchen.  This is the reason the food is so good.  Small, unassuming cook top and these ladies are making everything from scratch and by hand.  I'm a fan of this food.  No fuss here.  Just good, honest, food.  Next time you go out to eat, tell your significant other that you would like to eat pupusas.  If they don't slap your face and leave, take them here.  You won't be sorry.


I give La Salvadorena an 8 out of 10.  Clean the bathroom and wipe the tables down but don't mess with the food.











Happy eating, y'all.

Rye - Mckinney, TX

Rye is a little, tucked away restaurant on the downtown McKinney square.  It's easy to miss but make sure you don't.  It is a new gem that needs to stick around.
I'll start with the negative... The ambiance.  It's not bad. It's not good.  It's just nice.  (Into the Woods fans can start humming now) The front station where you wait to be seated is clearly marked and so close to the doorway, you are likely to run into it if you aren't careful.  The inside is a reclaimed wood/exposed brick theme.  It looks like HGTV barfed in the room.  I really liked look for a few years then everyone started doing it.  Now, national chains have picked up the trend and it's time to find something else.
All that aside, our waiter was very cordial if not a bit talkative.  He sat me and my friend, Red, at a table right next to another patron.  A bit awkward but it's better than Paris, France where you sit in your neighbor's lap.
I ordered a McKinney Mule to start the evening.  Rye brews their own ginger beer and they make a Moscow Mule with this ginger beer.  A good ginger beer should embrace the ginger, shun the sugar, and leave you a little breathless from the burn.  A good Moscow Mule should make you forget most of your evening and influence you to make bad life choices.  This one did both.  I'll not go into detail on the latter but the former had all the pungency of a great ginger beer and the lime/mint undertones were perfectly balanced.  Kudos to the mixologist for using copper instead of mason jars.  You can go either way in the "barn chic" atmosphere but the mason jars are hard to drink out of. Plus, my mom canned a lot when I was a child and every time I see a mason jar, I taste tomato.
Appetizer was a corn bread with white cheddar, green chiles, and a honey butter.  The texture was outstanding: fluffy without being crumbly.  A lot of corn breads are too dry or too wet.  If you're dumping a can of creamed corn in your mix, that's cheating.  this had a great crunchy outer layer and the honey butter was delightful except for the layer of salt.  As I've mentioned before, I'm sensitive to salt so the littlest bit makes me grimace.  I imagine most people would think it's fine.  The cheese in the corn bread is salty as is the corn bread itself.  The extra layer on the butter was not needed.  I would also like to have more green chiles in the bread.  I was expecting more heat.  It's like taking a gulp of ice cold water only to find out it's luke warm prune juice.

For entree, the waiter talked me into the Bucatini Carbonara. If you ever want to impress people or just be pretentious (*raises hand) make a dish of spaghetti with an eggy cream sauce, add bacon and peas and call it Bucatini Carbonara.  However, if you want a mind blowing version of this dish, get to Rye.  Their version comes with peas, bacon, egg, and grated grana padana... I'm not sure what a grana padana is but it is: 1. Fun to say and 2. Delicious.  The bucatini was cooked to perfection.  Since bucatini is basically a thick spaghetti with a hole in the middle, you run the risk of carrying lots of extra liquid from the pot to the dish.  This was not so.  The noodles had a firm bite to them and were evenly coated with the Carbonara mixture was perfection as well.  The bacon and peas were appropriately crisp and plump adding a fun texture to the dish.  The sauce was evenly coated and had such a delicate flavor to it, I almost forgot it was there.  It seemed to add a fantastic neutral background to the stronger flavors of the dish but also heightened the egginess of the pasta.  Perhaps that was the egg heightening the egginess of the pasta... whatever heightened the egginess, it was noticed and I give them points.  I also give them points for their grana padana.  In a world filled with pepper jack and Five Cheese blend, a good grana padana was appreciated.  I will need to ask a cheese person about this if I'm ever in a cheese shop and not hurling from the stench.  I hope a Latin song writer makes a great Samba from the words Grana Padana.

It's a tiny place with standard decore.  The waiter was nice and appropriately attentive.  He assumed we liked the food (and he was right).  The food and drink was outstanding.  I will be definitely be back to try some more menu items.  If you come here, get ready to pay.  It's a tad expensive.

I give Rye a 9 out of 10.

Happy Eating, y'all.

B 21 - Frisco, TX

I'm a burger snob.  In my mind, burgers are split into two different categories:
1. The classic, greasy burger
2. The chef inspired burger
If the first one is done right, the paramedics will lose grip on your arm due to grease when they take you to the hospital for cardiac arrest.
If the second one is done right, you will marvel at the intricacies of the beef, the chew of the bread, the zany flavors of the sauce, and the texture of the toppings.  All flavors highlight the beef.
After finding out there was another burger place in Frisco, I raced there as quickly as possible only to wait in line behind another couple who were confused about the menu. I thought they were delightfully clear.  Points to them.   I looked over the menu at the wide array of flavors.  Some of them sounded good, like bacon burger, but the meat here is supposed to be healthy so I was pretty sure I could rule out burger type number 1.  I wasn't going to waste calories on a chef inspired bacon burger (please note subtle sarcasm... bacon burgers should be dripping with grease and cheese.  If you advertise lean beef, leave the bacon for others to cook with) so I went with a Mexican themed burger... which is just a normal burger with avocado and onion strings on it.  Take that, Mexico.  We have boiled your entire culture and cuisine down to one fruit.  It is a worthy fruit to be known for but in the end, it's the Aztec word for testicle so, again, you lose.
The fries are a-la-carte.  This annoys me and I'm taking points off. I paid 8 bucks for a burger.  Give me the dang fries.  They do offer sweet potato fries so I will soften my animosity slightly.
Once you order your food, you walk over to a completely separate counter and order your shake.  They advertise real ice cream but I used to work at Dairy Queen as a teen and I know a mix when I see one.  Plus, it's not Bluebell so points off.  I ordered a creme-brulee shake on a separate transaction (you're welcome, Bank of America) and sat down to wait for my food.
The manager brought me my food with a smile and asked if I needed any sauces for my fries.  The plurality of "sauce" caught my attention.  He took me to the condiment counter and there, like a glowing angel chorus, was the sauce selection.  This was actually my favorite part.  There was a marshmallow dip for the sweet potato fries, several different varieties of ketchup, BBQ sauces, hot sauces, and mustards.  I tried several and all were good for a condiment.  Points awarded.
The burger was ok.  Just that.  Ok.  It wasn't dripping.  The bread wasn't particularly interesting.  It was a buttered Brioche.  The menu told you that several times.  I was eating a buttered Brioche with flavors that overpowered the burger. At least the Brioche was buttered, though.  If I ever get an un-buttered Brioche, me and the chef will have words.
The fries were good: crunchy without being crispy, filling in tact so you actually believe you are eating an unprocessed sweet potato.  Slathered in marshmallow cream, you hardly remember that sweet potatoes are healthy.
The star of the show was the shake.  Even though it wasn't made with real ice-cream and was a bit on the sweet side, the flavor was very similar to a creme brulee.  It also came with a toasted sugar disc.  It was both inventive and pretty.  I will give them points.
In the end, I give B21 a 6 out of 10.  Good shake spot and good fries.  Ordering should be simpler with only one transaction.  The burger should commit to either a really creative grouping of flavors, or a sloppy mess of all things bad for you.  This is the main course and I feel like they spent more time on the sides. Lastly, DON'T MAKE ME PAY EXTRA FOR FRIES!

Happy eating, y'all.

Nola Grill - Frisco, TX

Nola Grill is a Cajun restaurant in downtown Frisco square.  Against the backdrop of multiple Tex-Mex places, Asian noodle chains, and every other national chain conceivable, Nola captures the attention like a giant cake wheeled out to the middle of the floor during a bachelor party.  However, after eating there, it's like that cake bursts open and out steps Liza Minelli... circa 2016.  I mean, it's cool 'cause it's Liza but you were kind of hoping for... something else.
Good signage:  You wait to be seated.  Exposed brick with wood decoration is a cool ambiance but except for the occasional Fleur de Lis, there is nothing to let you know this place is remotely connected with New Orleans.  Points off for that.
Then, there was country music playing.  C'mon!  There are a few things that N.O. is known for: Gumbo, beignets, voodoo, remorse, and JAZZ! I'm not saying you should have a witch with a chicken's foot greet the customers but Jazz is an easy fix.  I'm sure you could find a CD in a bargain bin or even a New Orlean's jazz playlist on youtube... this hurt my heart.. my achy, breaky heart. points off.
I ordered a shrimp po-boy and a bowl of duck and andouille sausage gumbo.
Po-boys, while usually a cheap meal, should never taste that way.  A good crusty bread, heaps of meat, simple veggies, and a light mayo all combine to make this classic sandwich an un-forgettable treat.  No gourmet treatment needed.  Toast the bread, don't cover the flavor of the meat.  That's about all you need to know... oh, and don't get all fancy with the vegetables.  They are mainly there for looks and to use up whatever is going to go bad, I'm guessing.
A good gumbo should be the color of chocolate, have several layers of flavor, and be illegal in most democrat controlled states due to heat level.
My po-boy was like "grocery store bolo roll - hunt for the piece of breaded shrimp hiding among the jungle of iceberg lettuce."  The only similarities this had to a real po-boy was that it was filling... that's like saying your 8th grade math teacher looks like Scarlett Johansson because they both wore shoes.
The gumbo was even more disappointing.  The color was right but the taste was wrong.  It tasted so strongly of salty beef stock that there was no  hope for the lighter, more oily taste of duck to shine through.  There were strands of some type of meat in there but it could have been pot roast for all I knew.  Instead of chunks of smoky sausage, I was treated to the occasional zap of a few pieces of graduated hot dog.  This gumbo had all the excitement of Bill and Hillary Clinton's honeymoon.

The only reason I'm giving this place a 3 out of 10 is because they had signage and I didn't get food poisoning.  It's expensive and mis-leading in almost every way.  Somewhere, a real New Orleans' chef is having chest pains... and I bet he knows a voodoo guy with a doll... and that's not something you want to tangle with.

Happy eating, y'all.

Saravanna Bhavan - Frisco, TX

I have to be honest about this one.  I'm new to Indian food not served on a buffet.  And since I typically hate buffets, I am not extremely knowledgeable about Indian food.  After my experience at Saravanna, I am definitely going to get more acquainted.
Saravanna is a Southern Indian, all vegan restaurant.  Don't let this scare you.  There are plenty of other things to scare you but this shouldn't be one of them.
Upon entering, signage is clear:  The wait staff will seat you.  Everyone I met was very nice... this is quite different from other Indian restaurants I'd been to but I was later told that's more of a northern Indian thing. It's like the USA only less fried and definitely less meat.   The decorations are clean, open, airy, and tasteful. The kitchen is in the room behind a glass and you can watch your food get prepared without hearing the sizzles and smelling the smells.  I like sizzles and smells most of the time but in a restaurant that has multiple curries, I can see the benefit of this.  I'll give them a point.
There was a water pitcher on the table in a shiny pitcher.  Points for shiny and points for self serve water.  This saves the waitress from having to stand there while you deliberate about getting a beverage that is going to cost money and then decide to be "healthy" and get water.  This also saves me from getting fruit in my water... I hate fruit in my water unless it's Lemon and sugar all mixed together.
The waitress gave us a menu.  I was with my good friend CT who is a vegetarian and was really excited to finally have options.  The waitress turned my menu to page 3 and said, "Americans usually order from this section."  I was amazed she knew I was an American.  I've always thought I looked British... except my teeth are straight.
CT and I are both experienced travelers, and decided to order from the Indian portion of the menu.  It was sort of a sampler and since I'm not up on my Hindi, Indie, or Sanscrit, I'll just say that I ordered food that had names like "Poodie" "Padi" "Soodi" "Sadie" and "Satan's pickle"... but more on that.  The couple next to CT and I overheard us say that it was our first visit.  We struck up a conversation and they ended up really helping out.
Our food arrived in a large, round tray.  A giant bowl of rice in the middle and several small containers of dips encircling the rice.  On top of the rice was a giant piece of puffed bread.  Sort of like naan but puffy.  The texture of the surrounding dips moved sequentially from soup all the way to porridge and a smaller dish at the end with a little pickle sitting in a red sauce.
I tasted a little of the soup... Pootie, I think it was called.  The pootie was good but our friendly neighbors began shouting, "no no no! You aren't eating it right." Great, now I'm self conscious.  Self conscious and gun shy.  I guess I'll have to add Indian food to my list of gun shy activities.  Truth or dare, Open stalled urinals, and Indian food.
Luckily, the friendly neighbor man walked over to our table and began instructing us how to properly eat the food of his people.  He was soon joined by our waiter and they would converse in non-American then instruct us on how to eat the Rooti, Tootie, and Tadi.  They began telling us of the health benefits of each dish.  Lots of fiber...
I got hung up on the flavors.  So light yet vibrant.  Each texture and taste hitting the tongue differently so as not to completely annihilate the previous dish.  Then I realized they were going in levels of heat too.  The waiter asked if the spice level was ok (points off for timing) and I assured him it was fine and that I have a condition that makes my upper lip drip like that. I was able to tame the heat by dumping it over a bit of rice on the banana leaf provided on the tray.
CT was not as lucky.  She doesn't eat much rice and made it around the circle before I did.  Poor thing popped that pickle right in her mouth.  The place got quiet and I saw one of the wait staff cross themselves (do Hindus do that?).  Her eyes popped open and she explained, in between expletives, that the pickle was actually a small piece of Satan's nipple and under no condition should I eat it.  I dipped the tip of my fork in the sauce and concluded she was right.
We rounded out the meal trying to learn the Indian translation for some of CT's words and with a cup of Indian coffee.  The coffee was heavy with a chai spice and the cream used in it was light, sweet, and didn't overpower the drink.  I need to learn what was in this.  My ears were ringing by this point and I think some sweat had blocked my right ear canal so I'll get the ingredients on my next visit.
A healthy meal, friendly staff, clean environment:  I give this place a 9.5.  If they would have warned us about Satan's pickle, it would have been a perfect 10.
Even a few hours later, as I sit here in the john with "Chocolate Rain" on repeat, I am eagerly awaiting my next trip.

Happy Eating, Y'all.