Grandma Lives!

Audie's Restaurant
314 North Nicolet
Mackinaw City, Michigan

We opted for dinner at this local family-style place at the recommendation of our hotelier. The ambience is middle-class-comfortable, clean and well-maintained, not the least bit pretentious or trendy. Solid and reliable, I suppose,  are the adjectives they're going for, and they succeed.

They have a full bar, and my driving obligations for the near term consisted only of the three-block trek along near-deserted streets, so my friend Kirby went for a vodka martini (yes, yes, I know: if it's not gin it's not a martini. Pace, fellow curmudgeons), while I did the beer thing. Since they actually carry my favourite brand (Killian's Irish Red, in case anybody's looking to supply my wants), it put me in a rare good mood.

The menu carries all the usual stuff for this type of restaurant, although the heavy presence of smelt and whitefish is a local thing. Those breeds of fish are, along with midges, the main foodstuffs produced locally. Kirby chose chicken primavera, one of the day's specials, while I picked lasagna after being assured that it was made in-house.

The house salad I got as a first course didn't bode well for the evening's experience. Not that anything was wrong with it; it was just ordinary salad mix pulled by the handful from a big plastic bag, then decorated with a sprinkle of cheddar cheese and a couple of rings of red onion so it would look, you know, like they really made the effort back in the kitchen. The honey mustard dressing on the side was thick and tangy, and the salad ingredients were reasonably fresh, so it gets a passing grade. (Kirby got a trip to the salad bar with his meal, and fussed about having to do the work himself while I got mine delivered. He has been learning to grouse from me for several years now.) The rolls served with the salads barely pass, being the kind that come in a big pan, are heated in the kitchen, and dry out as quickly as they cool.

What's that mean?

The chicken primavera was a little heavy on the alfredo sauce, but otherwise somewhere between good and superior. Lots of vegetables -- asparagus, cauliflower, mushrooms, squash and green beans -- mixed with rotini underlay a nicely grilled chicken breast. It was served with a heavily buttered slice of garlic bread, and nearly proved to be too much for one person to eat.

But the star attraction (in addition to excellent service overall) was the lasagna. I would not have expected to find a lasagna in an out-of-the-way burg like Mackinaw City, Michigan, that could rival my grandmother's excellent, excellent version, but there it is. A large bowl of noodles still al dente despite who knows how long warming in the kitchen, interspersed with layers of cheese and meat and topped with a tomato-based sauce that was seasoned to shocking perfection. Magnifico! And it was such a large portion that I have enough for a second meal, although the lack of a refrigerator in my motel room probably will defeat that plan, and it will go to waste with my fullest regrets. Unless I eat it now....

The prices were pretty good, even by my miserly South-Texas standards: entrées are ten bucks or less, and drinks prices are moderate.  All in all, a solid three and a half chili peppers out of five.

Still --- STILL That Good!

Mike's In The Village
Bulverde Town Square
Bulverde, Texas

(a couple of miles west of US 281, on FM 1863)

This place is just not to be beaten. It may not be the only place serving food I rate at 5 chili peppers out of 5 (I don't know; maybe it is), but it's certainly the only place that's gotten that rating out of me three times: in my original blog post in December 2010, and in an update on Urbanspoon two years later. 

What's that mean?

Last night's great treats were, after the obligatory cup of outstanding chicken-and-sausage gumbo,  a perfectly cooked filet mignon with garlic mashed potatoes and green beans (or, as the waitress called them, "haricots verts green beans," unaware of the redundancy, kind of like those people who give us "shrimp scampi"); and a chicken breast, lightly breaded, pan-fried, then stuffed with tomato, mozzarella, herbs and a lovingly thin slice of prosciutto before being roasted. Fit for the gods, it was, a heavenly state helped by the bed of cappelini beneath it.

Köln cathedral

On this occasion, the entire experience of dinner at Mike's In The Village was improved (insofar as that was possible) by the offer of a beer, made by a new-ish brewery in Boerne, called "Denim-Hosen." The drinks card described this beer as being in the Koelsch style, and ever since I discovered that type of beer a couple of years ago, it has been a clear favorite for me. Sadly, though, Koelsch beer is only made in Cologne, Germany, and only sold in the establishments that manufacture it. But the promise of the advertising was too great to be ignored or resisted; and while the first sip managed to excite vague memory, by the bottom of the first glass I could imagine myself stepping back into the fabulous reconstructed cathedral; by the end of the second I was halfway through a tour of the city's Brauereien. If I wasn't driving, I may have finished the trip.

Almost a Trip Down Memory Lane

Christie's
6029 Westheimer, between Fountain View and Voss
Houston

There used to be a Christie's restaurant on Broadway, in San Antonio. I only went there a couple of times, and it's been gone for many, many years; but everybody seems to remember it fondly.  It has the distinction of being like the Alamo: a well-loved place that people seldom went to. 

The Christie's restaurant in Houston, last survivor of a once-thriving chain, embodies everything that made the old S.A. location so popular: a clean, large, traditional dining room, with cloth table coverings, a menu full of long-time favorite dishes, and a swarm of staff keeping each customer supplied with everything they expect in a good restaurant and each place unobtrusively cleared. It's nice, I think, that a restaurant doesn't cut staff in order to save a few bucks. The quality of service is well worth the relatively slight premium in prices.

We chose this place mostly from a sense of nostalgia, and were rewarded with a pleasant meal at a reasonable price in a comfortable setting. I had the beluche, a snapper fillet topped with mushrooms, shrimp and crab in a light wine sauce. Rick chose the shrimp combination, a dish of fried and stuffed shrimp, with french fries and onion rings. 

Both meals were introduced by unremarkable dinner salads of fresh lettuce with a few classic additions: a little shredded carrot, a wedge of tomato, a handful of croutons; and bread, meaning a couple of hot crusty rolls with butter. This portion of the meal could stand some improvement: I think, for example, that an interesting selection of breads puts a diner in a receptive and mellow mood; and the bit of extra labour that would be needed to compile a more interesting salad would pay as many dividends as the smartly-staffed dining room. But Christie's hesitates to do too much updating, lest they upset their base of regular customers. Maybe a wise choice; I don't know.

The beluche was excellent. The fillet was perfectly cooked, a mark of some artistry in the kitchen (one that I can only achieve myself when the microwave is working properly, which it hasn't been for some time). Christie's kitchen manages it on an old-fashioned grill; I doubt there is a microwave in their kitchen at all. The sauce over it was, as I said, subtle. Rick, who had been noshing on his shrimp, thought it bland, while I thought it was extraordinary. After trying his shrimp, I could see why he couldn't appreciate the beluche without a thorough cleansing of the palate. 

What's that mean?

His shrimp were nicely done, though the light batters used on both the fried and stuffed shrimp seemed unusually sweet. These morsels, cooked in a traditional manner, couldn't compare for interest with the fried shrimp he had eaten the previous night at a nearby Thai restaurant, but they were masterpieces of their type. The stuffed shrimp were particularly impressive, with a nice mix of seafood in a pleasantly textured cornmeal coat. The fries were mere filler, having no merit to speak of, and the onion rings were a tremendous disappointment, being large and crunchy-looking but soft and mealy in the actual consumption.

My sides were steamed broccoli (ordered as an add-on) and a baked potato. I was pleasantly surprised to find that the broccoli was just steamed, not coated with some unnecessary oil or other fat for the table. It was a reasonably large serving of good-quality fresh broccoli, one large stem and a second bunch of florets, a genuine "serving." The potato (cooked in a real oven, not the microwave) was evenly done, large enough to satisfy without being one of those steroidal creations found at more au courant restaurants. The generosity of toppings was extraordinary as well, and included fresh-cut green onion in lieu of a sprinkle of bottled chives; a large dollop of fresh butter, an equally large dollop of sour cream, and an even larger portion of fancy-shredded cheddar cheese.  I don't usually let such toppings go to waste, but there was just so much that I had to leave some behind.

All in all,  a good place for seafood.