Lately Houston has been the recipient of some notable Austin imports.  On the moderate end, the insanely popular Torchy's Tacos opened their first Houston location to rave reports from diners.  Today we were fortunate enough to take a look at an even more exciting Austin import.

Uchi, the modern Japanese restaurant building a national reputation for its innovative takes on sushi and other Japanese dishes, has opened a Houston outpost.  Located in the old Felix Mexican Restaurant location on inner Westheimer, the team from Uchi has converted a revered house of Tex-Mex into a lovely and serene Japanese dining experience.  How does the innovative cuisine of chef Tyson Cole survive the trip down Highway 290?  We wanted to find out.

We were invited to sample several of their dishes at a recent media dinner, and while this isn't a formal review, we wanted to share our impressions.

Approaching the building, we noticed how the new building doesn't eradicate the old architecture of Felix's, but rather pays homage to it.  The iconic curved windows remain, and their shape is echoed in the striking new entryway.  The result is urban and modern, but with respect for the past, a theme that was echoed throughout the evening.

Entering the restaurant, we were startled at the transformation.  Gone was the Felix experience, and in its place was a stylishly rustic Japanese setting, with clever details everywhere we looked.  One of our favorites was a large communal table, handmade in Austin and lovingly assembled.

With this much attention and respect paid to the setting, we couldn't wait to sample Tyson Cole's food.  Before being served, we browsed the traditional preparation area, and took in the mouth-watering displays of fresh fish and other ingredients, all under the watchful eye of Uchi's kitchen staff.

Watching these masters wield their tako hiki and santoku was like watching surgeons at work.  The speed and precision evident in their work was remarkable.

For this media dinner, small plates were passed by the attentive but unobtrusive staff, who were happy to answer any questions.  Chef Cole circulated from time to time, delivering food himself and anxious to hear feedback from patrons.

First up was a cooked dish - bacon sen.  Consisting of grilled pork belly, green onion, fish caramel, and bonito flakes, the result was a very restrained take on pork belly.  Instead of the often overwhelming richness from this fatty cut of pork, the dish had a solid pork flavor, still rich but balanced by the sweetness of the caramel and the subtle crunch of the bonito flakes.

Next was our first bite of Chef Cole's sushi.  Called machi cure, it begins with smoked baby yellowtail, presented on a small plank of edible yucca crisp, asian pear, marcona almond, and accented with garlic brittle.  This dish was genius.  The essence of the sea brought forth by the impeccably fresh yellowtail was firm without being chewy, and offset by the crunch of the yucca and the subtle snap of the almond.  The flavors danced on the tongue - the rich tuna, the sharp garlic, the tang of the pear, the earthiness of the almond.  The result was spectacular, and speaks to Cole's ability to balance flavor and texture while not compromising on the jewel-like presentation.

Another highlight was the playfully named Jar Jar Duck.  Presented in a lever-sealed Mason jar, opening this clever package released a waft of rosemary-infused smoky duck essence.  Digging into the jar revealed thinly sliced sweet kumquats, pickled endives, thinly sliced bits of roast duck, and crunchy duck cracklins.  Again, the attention to detail is remarkable: The duck is layered so that the milder white meat is below the richer dark meat, so the heavy, flavorful juices marinate the breast meat.  This dish evokes the cleverness of Grant Achatz at his best while leaving behind the fussiness that turns food into performance art.  Again, it's about balance, and Tyson Cole pulls it off masterfully.

We sampled several other dishes that we thoroughly enjoyed, with interesting ingredients like flash-fried kale, toasted milk, and espelette, a mild French pepper not typically associated with Japanese cooking.  This medling of ingredients brings a distinctively modern feel to Cole's Japanese cuisine.  The respect for the past is evident, but the vision is through a distinctively modern lens.  We're excited about Uchi, and we look forward to seeing what other delights Tyson Cole and his talented staff have in store.

(Other views on the event, from Almost Veggie HoustonCultureMapDr. Ricky and Hank on Food.)

 Uchi | 904 Westheimer | Houston 77006 | 713-522-4808 | uchihouston.com

Uchi on Urbanspoon

We got word today that Chef Michael Dei Maggi is no longer with Caffe Bello.

No word yet on his next gig, or who will be replacing him in the kitchen at Caffe Bello.

In a followup, the company responds:

"We are expanding the menu and we have made changes.  We are very proud of the food we are putting out at Caffe Bello."

More news when we get it.

UPDATE: Caffe Bello closed in the Spring of 2011.

I make no bones about it - I'm a big fan of Tony Vallone, and I think his restaurants set the standard that few others in town can even approach.  From the food to the service to the setting, Tony and his staff show an attention to detail that is rare in the restaurant business.

(The Vallones are also clients of mine.  Ever since my friend Jack Tyler introduced me to Tony almost a decade ago, my company has created all of the web sites for Vallone restaurants, from the original pre-Landry's Grotto to Ciao Bello, and of course for his flagship, Tony's.  And as a foodie, they are the best client I could ever have, because every meeting involves wonderful food, and the opportunity to learn from Tony, his son Jeff, Chef Bruce McMillian, their young front-of-the-house wizard Scott Sulma, and the rest of their team of extraordinary minds.  It's like being a baseball fan, and being asked to create something for the Yankees.)

So I was very happy to hear from Tony and his son Jeff about the new concept for a restaurant they were creating in Montrose, to be called Caffe Bello.  The excitement in Tony's voice was palpable.  Caffe Bello really was to be something different, targeted at a young, hip, Montrose crowd, while still maintaining the signature Vallone touches that lift their restaurants above the ordinary.  Most restaurateurs who had 45 years under their belts would be coasting, but Tony was visibly excited by the challenge of bringing his art to a whole new generation of patrons.

Caffe Bello is an Italian restaurant, of course.  That's what the Vallones do best.  But what would Tony bring to Montrose, the epicenter of hip and cool?  Driving down lower Westheimer one encounters a veritable who's who of hot, trendy restaurants, with places like Feast, Indika, and Dolce Vita each doing a brisk business.  In this setting that craves the new and different, how would Houston's iconic establishment restaurateur create a restaurant to surprise and delight this finicky neighborhood?


The answer: Tony would do this the way he does everything else:  By adapting to his customers, and creating for them something unique.  And exceeding expectations, which are already high, given the Vallone name attached to the project.

Upon entering Caffe Bello on its first Friday night, we were surprised by how different the space feels.  This isn't Tony's with its soaring ceilings and world-class art grabbing your eye.  Nor was it Amici, feeling upscale and casual and filled with families and couples on dates.  This was edgy -- a long narrow room along Westhimer, exposed brick, no tablecloths.  It's fairly dark.  A bar hugs one end of the room.  It felt more like the Village or SoHo in Manhattan than near downtown Houston.

One new Vallone trademark grabbed us immediately - stunning abstract works by John Palmer.  Palmer's canvasses captured the edgy energy of the room, and reflected it back.

The edge extends into the back of the house, with chef Michael Dei Maggi, formerly of Max's Wine Dive and the Rockwood Room helming the kitchen.  Chef Dei Maggi is the kind of chef you'd never picture working with Tony Vallone - sporting numerous tatoos that speak volumes about his cutting edge sensibilities.  But a look through Dei Maggi's previous gigs shows the sort of creative flair that Montrose craves - he's the type of chef who's looking forward, never backward.  We've been a fan of Chef Dei Maggi's work, and were looking forward to seeing how he and Tony would work together.

The youth isn't just in the kitchen.  Scott Sulma is a partner in this project.  For those who don't know him, Scott is the twentysomething general manager of Tony's, the Vallone's flagship restaurant and considered by many to be the finest restaurant in Texas.  Scott brings an intuitive grasp of hospitality and organization to Caffe Bello; he is simply unflappable in very demanding situations, and the fact that a man in his 20's can rise so high in the Vallone organization is testament to his ability.

We drove into Montrose from the Woodlands, and handed off our car to the valet.  After a very brief wait, we were seated.  The restaurant was going through its soft opening, and hadn't advertised its presence, but the buzz had already started in Montrose, and the dining room was full.  It turned out that we were at a table next to Tony, his wife Donna, and their daughter Lauri, there to enjoy dinner and make sure the new store was up to speed.

We perused menu, and were immediately taken by the tightly edited menu of unique offerings.  A variety of pizzetta (small, individual pizzas), none of which looked familiar to us.  A meatball burger.  A chicken-fried sirloin.  And a variety of other dishes you'd never seen on the menu at Tony's, Ciao Bello or Amici.

We couldn't wait to order.

First came the bread service - instead of the expected basket, it was placed on a sheet of brown paper, and casually arranged.  Of course, being a Vallone joint, the casual arrangement somehow looked effortlessly artistic.

The breads were warm, housemade, and had surprisingly complex flavors - we fought over the dense, chewy, sweet roll, and fortunately more were quickly delivered when ours was devoured.

We jumped around the menu, ordering items that looked most fascinating.  First up was a pizzetta - one with bresaola (thinly sliced cured beef) pear, taleggio and Italian truffle honey.

Rarely am I a fan of what I call "designer" pizza - I am a devoted pepperoni guy.  But this pizza was outstanding - bubbly, crispy, slightly sweet crust, dense, chewy, smoky beef, creamy and herby white cheese, and the tangy bite of the pears made this a dish we'll be reordering as soon as possible.  Even my lovely bride, who is not a terribly adventurous diner, found herself drawn to this creation.  A pity, because that meant I had to share it with her.  But love conquered... at least this time.

While I dolefully watched my wife enjoy her last slice of pizza, Tony caught my eye from the next table.  He handed me a plate, and on that plate was a sandwich.  As was the theme for the evening, it was no ordinary sandwich.

First, half of it was missing, and Tony's wry smile let me know who had tested it.  Second, it was a veal cutlet grinder, containing a gently breaded slice of veal, some fresh mozzarella, roasted peppers and greens, and it was served on a housemade ciabatta bun.  The bite of the peppers, the smooth, lush cream of the mozzarella, and the mild beefy flavor of the veal played together like a well-practiced band, with each ingredient playing well on its own, but the combination being so much more than the sum of the parts.

This demostrated something I learned years ago - if Tony or Jeff suggests something, do not pass it up.  And if Tony orders something for himself, prepare to be wowed.

Tony was very interested to know what I thought of the dish, and he was very happy when I raved about it.  His interest caught me off guard when he asked for my feedback the first time, many years ago.  The man is a true master of the culinary arts, yet his humility is a guiding force... he really wants to know what makes each and every guest happy, and he will figure out how to give it to them.  He's built a very successful business doing so, and his patrons display the sort of loyalty that is unheard of in the restaurant industry.  There's a reason for this.

Back to the food.  Next out of the kitchen were the diver scallops saltimbocca.

We've always enjoyed Tony's seafood offerings, but this was something totally different.  Rich, silky, just-past-al dente scallops were blanketed in thick-sliced, earthy prosciutto, and a sharp, sour caper agresto added a bold note.  Served with tomato and grilled asparagus, this small plate demonstrated convincingly that combining the deft Vallone approach with daring Dei Maggi strokes was going to lead us in some deliciously unexpected directions.

After a brief break, it was time for the entree.  I love chicken-fried steaks, and I honestly never expected to see one served at a Vallone place.  But here it is:

Unsurprisingly, this is not a typical chicken-fried steak.  Tender sirloin was hand-breaded, and topped with truffle cream gravy - the mild, soulful truffles were a nice bonus.  The accompaniment for this dish was the side of whipped potatoes, highlighted with reggiano cheese.  We've never before encountered a chicken-fried steak that spoke to us with an Italian accent, but we're glad we tried this one.  The quality of the meat alone made a huge difference, and adding the Italian accent elevated this dish to new heights.

Around this time Jeff Vallone wandered over, and said we had to try something.  In this case, "something" proved to be their orecchiette pasta, a simple but unique dish composed of pasta, rapini, grape tomatoes, and breadcrumbs.

Breadcrumbs?  The breadcrumbs were crunchy, and added a delightfully new texture to the slightly tart pasta dish, and the rapini added an assertive bitterness that was deftly offset by the acid from the tomatoes.  Again, the rule of thumb:  If Tony or Jeff suggests something, do not pass it up.

At this point, I was so full as to nearly be in pain, but I've learned that I cannot bring my bride or our daughter to a Vallone restaurant without ordering dessert.  Thankfully, they were doing the selecting at this point, so in my food-induced haze I sat back and watched what came out:  First were petite, housemade ice cream sandwiches.

Both the cookies and the ice cream were housemade; we were particularly taken with the strawberry, which was lusciously creamy and studded with pea-sized chunks of fresh strawberry.

The end of the meal was a staple of any Vallone dessert menu - Elizabeth's cheesecake.  Finally we'd get something that was familiar.  Or so I thought.

This was a remarkable juxtaposition of the familiar with the new - the silky, lutescent filling and the delightfully crispy crust were present and accounted for, but the serving was a bold rectangle, the topping was thick, rich caramel sprinkled with nuts, lightly caramelized bananas were sliced on the side, and a smear of delicate, ambrisial butterscotch sauce punctuated the service.  Apparently even family icons are not safe from the twists that come forth from Chef Dei Maggi's mind.

This remarkable meal speaks volumes about how well things can turn out when you assemble a team with culinary talent and let them do what they do best.  And we were again amazed (although by now we should expect it) that a restaurateur who's been successful for over four decades can create a new, cutting edge restaurant, and delight an audience that probably wasn't born when he opened his first location.

I've been accused more than once of being a fan of Tony Vallone's, and I cannot dispute this.  Tony is the textbook definition of a master restaurateur:  His restaurants are considered to be among the very best anywhere, and he's been keeping them there for over four decades.

Caffe Bello shows that the master hasn't lost his touch, and that he's assembled a team that can translate the legendary Vallone experience into one that will be embraced by a cutting-edge audience.  I think that sums up Tony's philosophy:

The food will always be changing, but excellence never goes out of style.

Caffe Bello - 322 Westheimer - 713-520-5599 - CaffeBello.com

Caffe Bello on Urbanspoon

Hubcap Grill, one of downtown Houston's best burger spots, has a new way to extend its reach. Following the lead of successful cooks in Houston and Austin, they've gone mobile, with the Hubcap Grill Burger Truck.

The truck will be circulating around town, hitting the Montrose, Washington Avenue, and Heights areas. They'll be working both lunch and dinner.

To keep tabs on the location of the Burger Truck, follow @Hubcap_Grill on Twitter.

We've been hearing the buzz about Little Bigs, the burger shack from Bryan Caswell, the mastermind behind the hot midtown spot Reef. They recently extended their hours to include lunch, so we stopped in to check 'em out.

Little Bigs is located in the old Ming's location on Montrose near Westheimer. They've really brightened up the place, sprucing up the deck and installing a bunch of large picnic tables. Indoor seating is limited and packed in tightly; if you dine inside on a busy day, you'll be making new friends.

Ordering is a snap: Choose between three varieties of sliders: Beef, chicken, or mushroom. Add some fries, and your choice of beverage, including shakes and a variety of alcoholic options. Then wait. And if they're busy, the wait can be 15-20 minutes, as it was for us this beautiful Sunday afternoon.

Our name was called, and we went to claim our sliders.

We had been disappointed with the beef sliders at Reef, but the ones served here at Little Bigs were a revelation. Cooked medium well, the mini-burgers remained deliciously juicy, with just the right amount of ooze. Grilled onions perched atop the beef, and a bit of American cheese formed the perfect finale. The whole assembly is perched atop a small yeasty roll, and the result is Slider Nirvana.

We also sampled the chicken slider: A crispy fried piece of chicken breast, seasoned with Cajun spices, served atop the same yeasty rolls. Tasty, but they play second fiddle to the superb beef sliders. (We didn't try the mushroom option.)

Chef Caswell has a winner in Little Bigs. We look forward to watching this mini-burger empire spread across Houston; a second location in Hermann park is already in the works.

The Bibas empire as moved the idiosyncratic West Gray store to some upscale new digs on inner Westheimer. Located in the slot occupied by the late-but-not-terribly-lamented Rouge, Bibas has moved uptown in more ways that one.

The new location is lovely; much more upscale than the funky old spot. And the staff seems to have brought their attitude upscale to match the new digs - on our recent visit the service was prompt and professional.

Fortunately, the better-than-average Greek food as made the trip. Gyros are very good; the high volume assures that the meat is very fresh, the veggies are crisp, and the pitas are right off the pita-making-thing. Other Greek specialties are good as well: I often order the kotopita, the savory chicken dish served in flaky, layered pastry.

But my favorite thing at One's A Meal remains the pizza. The crust is hand tossed and chewy with a crunchy exterior, and the toppings are fresh and flavorful. My fave is the standard pepperoni, Greek-ified with the addition of feta cheese. It comes out chewy and gooey, and is one of the best pizzas in town.

Prices seem to have climbed slightly with the new fancier digs, but it remains a real bargain, especially for the neighborhood.

If you'd rather not wait in Niko-Niko's line, drive a block and enjoy both better service and better food.

One's A Meal: 812 Westheimer, Houston, 77006, 713-523-0425

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