Getting Down with the Down House

It's been awhile. I know. It's not because I haven't wanted to blog. And it's not because I haven't been eating. The Gap is well aware of the fact that I am stuffing my face with such intensity that I go up a pants size often enough to keep them recession-proof.

No, I... I...I... moved to Austin. It was temporary. I swear. And I didn't even like it there. It wasn't meant to be long term. I promised to stay only three years. I did. Now I am back. I got a PhD, or most of it, anyway, and now I am back.

The good news: there are so many wonderful restaurants that I get to talk about. And what about all those losers that are no longer around? Fun too! I can even delete a post or two. Naaaah.

Anyway, here's the dish. And I mean dish, literally.

Go to the Down House. It's just south of 19Th street on Yale in the Heights. Yep. Delish. And that's not just the beer goggles talking.

I went first with my friend Chris. (Hi Chris.)We had an amazing breakfast. I was a bit unsure. I thought the kitsch was cute and all. It's like a 1940s speakeasy sort of thing. The staff is dressed in vests, old timey dresses, use books to distribute checks, and have one awesome drink menu with all the classics you hear about. (More to come... hang in there.)

Chris was telling me about his non-date that was coming up, when I spied, yes, wait for it... pulled pork hash. Who does that? Well, Down House for one, if I may answer my own question. But that was amazing dish. It was perfectly cooked potato, and the nice unctuous flavors that pulled pork can bring to a dish like that. There were eggs on top, I am guessing. I mean, I was so focused on the meat and potato that I could hardly tell you any more.

Except when Chris took a moment to scratch his nose. That's when I dove in, uninvited, into his plate of goodness. He had a breakfast sandwich: eggs, cheese, tomato. Also, a winner. I don't know if the breakfast menu is set, I think it might be. I know the dinner menu is not.

So a few days later when my Huz and I decided to go for dinner, I said, hey, how about Down House.

In his usual grouch he said, "What do they have, grrr."

"I don't know. I think they change their menu, like every day."

"Grr."

When we got there, he loosened up a little. I think the different atmosphere/speakeasy gig threw him off. Whew.

When we sat down, immediately, do not pass go, I encouraged him to have a cocktail. But the choices were so vast and awesome that it was hard to decide. That's why you have a waitress my friend. She coached us both. What do you like. At the same time The Huz said, "dry" and I said, "girlie". I ended up with a sloe gin fizz after debating about a Tom Collins, an Old Fashion, and a Pimms Cup as potential winners. The Huz: a something that burned the hair follicles off the inside of my nose. They made these drinks the old fashioned way, or perhaps the right way. Either way you want to look at it, it's slow. My drink took a few minutes to get to the table-- but it was worth the wait as the foam that was the whole point of the drink was perfect. Fluffy and pink.

We had to join the club, as in, they ran our license, we signed a paper, then got our drinks. So we're in the club. I guess a drinking club is as good as any.

For dinner, I was right, they had a daily menu. We had the appetizer quesedillas and the sea bass sliders. Yep. Tiny sea bass, expertly marinaded, beautifully plated, and quickly snarfed down. The quesedillas had that pulled pork, some salsa, and a side of green avocado and deathly hot pepper.

I am not one to turn a dessert away, so we got the chocolate creme brulee with chipotle pepper in it. It was a genius move. The pepper did a lovely burn and the dessert was a delight. We both had another cocktail, but again: dry and fruity.

I approached the topic lightly: "What did you think?"

The Huz: "I would totally come back."

Whew.

And it's a good thing. Because in short, go. It's worth it. They have a wonderful staff, the place is cute, the seating is comfortable.