There's a new place hidden in the Woodlands' Waterway Square: Sirenuse Euro Bistro.

We stopped by recently on the way to a film. After browsing the menu and listening to the waiter, we were put off by the level of pretentiousness, especially from a brand-new restaurant. The menu is filled with prose describing the wonder that is Sirenuse... and they've just opened.

Example: There were some interesting pastas on the menu, such as a butternut squash mezzalune, for $12. When I expressed interest, the waiter said that it was an appetizer portion, and that if I wanted it as an entree, he'd double the size... and of course, double the price, he added helpfully.

I asked how big the regular portion was: "Four ounces" was his reply. I was shocked. It's not as if pasta is a particularly expensive ingredient, so why the miniscule portion? (And if they knew the tiny portion was a problem, why not address it, without doubling the price to the customer?)

Another example: Their web site has an "About" page, with a "Background & Story" section. I'd hoped to learn something about the team behind the restaurant; perhaps their culinary credentials, or where they'd come from?

Nope. But here's the useful stuff I did find:

A lesson on how to pronounce the restaurant's name (if you've gotta teach this to your customers, you've picked the wrong name)

A story about the Roman legend of Jason and the Argonauts, and the Sirens that tempted them.

Oops. Jason was a part of Greek mythology, not Roman. And this confused story tells me nothing about the restaurant

So we've got dreadfully overpriced pasta, an undisguised sheen of pretentiousness, and a back story that the owners don't seem to have bothered to research.

Amazing.

I've never had this sort of surreal experience in a restaurant before, and hopefully never will again. I thanked our waiter for his time, and we headed over to the Goose's Acre for a good meal without the attitude.

Side note: The OTHER brand-new restaurant in Waterway Square, Hubble and Hudson, had an hour wait for a table. Sirenuse was 80% empty. Just a coincidence?


Sliders have become so trendy that just about every casual dining establishment has added them to the menu. It seems that every time we sit down, we're confronted with sliders.

And that's not a bad thing. We like hamburgers, we love good ones, and we crave great ones.
On a recent lunch outing, we gave Reef's sliders a try.
They're three plump little hamburgers placed on a nice egg-y bun, topped with carmelized onions and served with a side of fries. We'd heard great things about these sliders, and honestly, we were underwhelmed. The hand-formed patties were thick but overcooked, and the only notable flavor was from the onions. These sliders were begging for some thick-sliced bacon and a gentler touch on the grill. The generic fries were clearly out of a bag.
Yesterday, a very pleasant surprise. We were waiting for car repairs, and Hooters was in walking distance. Normally this place isn't on the radar, but perhaps that bit of prejudice has now been corrected. Hooters is known for their chicken wings, but their sliders are among the best we've tried.
The formula is simple: Hand-formed beef patty, fluffy white bun, melted American cheese, pickles, raw onions. But the execution was excellent: The beef was cooked medium, with a nice pink tinge at the middle of the tiny, thickish patty. The cheese was nicely melted and the quantity was just right, and it fused the veggies to the patty. And the bun was light and fluffy, sealing the deal. Two order sizes are available: Four sliders in the standard order, or six in the large order, which we found perfect for sharing. And the crisp onion strings were a nice alternative to the generic fries.
If someone had told me that we'd prefer Hooter's sliders to Reef's, I would have laughed. But tasting is believing. If there's one rule when you chow down in H-Town, it's that you should throw your preconceptions out the window. You might find yourself pleasantly surprised.
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