Fearless Critic
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Fearless Critic restaurant review
Food
7.2
Feel
6.5
Price
$100
RDG
Mo’ money, mo’ pomp, mo’ circumstance—trendiness at its culinary worst
Modern, Southwestern
Upmarket restaurant

Hours
Mon–Fri 11:30am–2:00pm
Mon–Fri 6:00pm–10:00pm
Sat noon–3:00pm
Sat 6:00pm–10:00pm
Sun noon–3:00pm
Sun 5:00pm–9:00pm

Features Date-friendly
Bar Beer, wine, liquor
Credit cards Visa, MC, AmEx
Reservations Essential

www.rdgbarannie.com

Galleria
1728 Post Oak Blvd.
Houston, TX
(713) 840-1111

If you thought it impossible for the flagship restaurant of the Schiller/Del Grande empire to reinvent itself as something even flashier, more upmarket, and more of an “it” restaurant than Café Annie, its previous incarnation, then you’d be wrong. Even more pomp and circumstance and even more showy interior design attend this ambitious new entry into the most elite of Houston social spheres.

We must salute the reliable execution in this kitchen, and we must respect, too, the decision to hew to tradition—to some extent, anyway—with a selection of dishes from the old Café Annie, including the classic roasted rabbit with rabbit enchiladas and red mole, which captures its audience not with adjectives but with simple, comforting flavors.

But there’s a dark underside to that practice: just when you thought this restaurant group couldn’t get any more pompous or self-important, the chef historically dates the introduction of each dish on the menu, as if to suggest that generations hence, high-school history teachers will be leading interactive class debates over the specifics of the moment in time when Robert Del Grande was possessed by an unimaginable genius and had the idea of searing ahi tuna rare and serving it with ginger slaw (”circa 2009”) only 15 years after every midrange restaurant in San Francisco did it.

The feeling of the place follows suit: although the lighting is right and the gleaming interior impressive, there’s a pomposity to it all—not to mention the outlandish volume, requiring you to yell to your date even in the most furtive corner of the dining room. Still, at its best, this restaurant turns out some fascinating flavors, spiking a martini with seriously smoked tea, or adorning maple-cured quail with a wild-mushroom chili, venison sausage, and cornbread dressing—a sort of homage to Texas Hill Country that’s impossible not to stop eating.

But move across the menu, and turbulence awaits. Corn-husk-roasted sea scallops with poached egg and bacon grits, like a million-dollar take on a Waffle House breakfast, would have been the best dish on the menu—if not for the fact that at our last visit, the scallops were totally off, bracingly fishy. Disturbingly, the simplest dishes are often the worst: “wood-grilled king salmon,” for instance, feels like little more than a thin, puny, uninteresting sockeye cut, cooked appropriately rare. A $40 wood-grilled ribeye (said our server, assumingly: “medium?”—can you believe that we had to talk him down to medium-rare?), advertised as USDA Prime, comes out with little of the melty marbling we associate with that cut or that grade, and its steak fries come with a radioactive-orange-colored dipping sauce that’s an absolute dead ringer for the sort of sweet-and-sour sauce that comes with those deep-fried dough strips that start a fast-food Chinese-American meal.

What could RDG possibly be thinking, serving that sauce? Or that piece of salmon? However high the high points may be, and however consistent the execution—cooking meats properly to temperature, expertly frying oysters—these recipes are too often failures, their ingredients too often inferior. It may be great business, but it’s not great food, and the wimpy concepts are further diminished by the rip-off prices. Even a showstopping vanilla cake with butter cream and raspberries, a simple-sounding dessert that blows us away with indulgent richness and silky smoothness, can’t rescue RDG from colossal disappointment at about $100 per head. If this is what remains of old-boy Houston, then we’re thankful for the new guard.

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