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Dine
Out
by
Shelly Barnes
Room
With a Voodoo: The new terrace dining room at the Warwick
Hotel, Houston's venerable icon, may boast Houston's
most bewitching view.
Forgive
me for sounding bourgeois, but the thought of dining
at a hotel never crosses my mind. I realize Tim Keating
put the Four Seasons Hotel on the culinary food map,
as did Jim Mills with the Houstonian. But when you scan
your mental checklist for a suitable lunchtime meeting
place or a romantic night out, does a hotel restaurant
make your top 25? I rest my case.
This
is why--despite being cozy, convenient, and interesting--the
Park Plaza Warwick Hotel did not initially strike me
as an ideal setting for a meal. But, after a perfectly
delightful lunch followed by an evening of jazz and
scat singing, I can now testify that the Warwick's new
Terrace on Main retreat is the answer to the museum
district's paucity of sophisticated eats. For lunch,
the Terrace offers an elegant yet affordable selection;
the rest of the day, choose from their pub menu, an
eclectic mix of down-home and unconventional. To my
surprise, the service and ambience was as innovative
and inspiring as the art that hangs at the Museum of
Fine Arts next door.
With
its Germany-imported limestone floors and French paneling
and tapestry, the Warwick has always been a stately
componant of the Houston ethos. Nestled along the hotel's
west wall, the Terrace on Main is part of the Warwick's
multi-million dollar facelift (which cleverly coincides
with the MFA's recent expansion by providing an upscale
alternative to the museum's in-house Cafe Express).
The serene room that used to house the Warwick's bar
has been divided up into four space: A small but sophisticated
dining room that overlooks the terrace (its namesake);
a quadrant of cozy tables for the evening club crowd;
a sleek bar touting brand-name liquor and several inventive
martinis; and the graceful terrace itself.
Talk
about a room with a view. Bob Hope once said that the
Warwick's Presidential Suite had the prettiest view
in the world, but the Terrace's terrace--with its view
of the Mecom fountain, the sculpture on the Museum's
south lawn, and hundred-year-old live oaks lining Main
Street--is a street-level contender.
We
opted for the marinated grilled red and yellow tomato
mozzarella sandwich with pesto on wonderfully chewy
seven-grain bread. It includes tomatoes so juicy they
may as well have been picked a minute earlier, and a
pile of those tasty wafer-thin sweet potato chips.
Equally
alluring was the marinated Greek-style flank steak topped
with a mushroom, artichoke, tomato and feta cheese salad
and a spinach, raisin and roasted garlic torte. While
most cradle Texans appreciate a good steak, this one--following
its Greek-style preparation--has a distinctly dry texture
that made the accompanying artichoke salad a welcomed
addition. The first bite was good, albeit uneventful.
The second, however, was infused with feta. Suddenly
I heard simultaneous low-grade moaning and realized
it was coming from both my dining companion and me.
One dish evoking two different moans makes an unequivocal
winner.
Then
again, were it not for our becoming a tad self-conscious
about the moaning, the spinach, raisin and roasted garlic
torte ($8) would have roused as big a compliment. For
all purposes, this is quiche. But a quiche with flair,
what with its layer of pine nuts and topping of crème
brulee-like caramelized jack and Parmesan cheeses. A
"Warwick" Cobb salad with shrimp and pancetta in lieu
of the usual turkey and bacon. A roasted chicken salad,
chunky and creamy--a bit too creamy, actually--but laced
with an exotic Indian mix of garlic and mint. A B.L.T.
on a cheddar cheese waffle with basil mayonnaise and
jalapeno-infused white and sweet potato chips. And that's
just the conventional fare.
If
you're in a seafood frame of mind, by all means try
the herb-grilled tuna niçoise sandwich ($9), a clever
take on traditional salad niçoise. Bite-sized chunks
of moist tuna, fresh haricot verts, chopped egg, tomato
and salty black olives serenaded in a lightly whipped
vinaigrette were enveloped in a soft whole-wheat pita,
accented with a Monet-like haystack of crispy shoestring
potatoes.
Less
noteworthy is the smoked salmon on toasted brioche.
Despite a tasty dollop of vodka caviar-spiked sour cream
(undoubtedly the reason for its $14 price tag) and spicy
peppered peaches, it was basically just a glorified
WASP version of bagels and lox.
The
Terrace also offers their innovative takes on more conventional
fare: The "Warwick" Cobb salad with shrimp and pancetta
in lieu of the usual turkey and bacon. A roasted chicken
salad, chunky and creamy--a bit too creamy, actually--but
laced with an exotic Indian mix of garlic and mint.
A B.L.T. on a cheddar cheese waffle with basil mayonnaise
and jalapeno-infused white and sweet potato chips.
Since
the Terrace's lounge features a pianist during the week
and a jazz trio on weekends, I hurried back a night
later to sample the music and the dinner menu. Whereas
lunch served up original sandwiches, salads and entrees
baptized in cheery sunlight, dinner's standard pub menu
wasn't nearly as evocative. There were a few highlights
that deserve mention, namely the roasted chicken and
sour cream jalapenos ($8) with its ethereal breading,
and the remarkably light, greaseless beef tenderloin
and jalapeno jack cheese tamales ($10). Not that I'm
a jalapeno junkie, which I most definitely am not, but
the Warwick seems to have a nice touch with those little
green infernos.
What
does not deserve mentioning--although I'm obliged to
spare you the same disappointment--is the cornmeal-coated
calamari ($6), a dry and rubbery appetizer in desperate
need of some marinara sauce and a lemon squeeze. Likewise,
the overbearingly fried crawfish that lacked any flavor
save for the too-too-spicy remoulade served on the side.
Almost as tiresome were the beef fajita quesadillas.
Also this Texas tradition is almost impossible to mess
up, this version was over-salted, with mealy guacamole
(that tasted nothing like avocado) and a tacky cheese
tasting suspiciously like fontina. The one saving grace
was a freshly prepared pico de gallo.
But
I was wooed back into the fold when our waitress set
before us a gorgeous, warm chocolate bread pudding,
luxuriously rich yet not too sweet, cooled by a mound
of cinnamon ice cream. A perfect dreamy specimen. Equally
sublime was the napoleon, the signature dessert of the
Terrace's new pastry chef, its buttery, flaky layers
of pastry concealing a thick vanilla bean cream that
yielded ever so gently to my fork.
All
this is moot, however, upon hearing Paul English and
his jazz trio. Booked indefinitely in the Terrace lounge,
English does with a piano what the Terrace chef does
with that roasted garlic and spinach torte. His music
transfixes, as his melodious tunes grab and caress.
Within minutes, a former singer who just happened to
be in the lounge jumped up and sang two songs, scat
style. The place went wild.
You
don't have to be an out-of-towner to think about checking
into this hotel: Whether to luxuriate in an al fresco
ladies lunch on a balmy day, or to soak up the atmosphere
of the jazz club, puffing a cigar from the lounge's
well-stocked humidor, you might remember the old warhorse
Warwick. The Terrace on Main, in the Warwick Hotel,
5701 Main Street, 713/526-1991. Lunch: 11:30 a.m.-2:30
p.m.; pub menu: 3-11 p.m. Music: Tuesday-Thursday, 5-9
p.m., Friday-Saturday, 7-11 p.m. Pul English plays every
evening except Wednesday, when pianist Eoe Nettles performs.
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