Sometimes you just don't have complete control over the guest list at your party, or you might just like these people regardless of their dorkiness, even if you don't necessarily want others to know that.

Dork – This person is socially inept, but not offensive.  Don't worry, you'll encounter those later.

What else you might try – Introduce them to their brethren, which should be seated out of the way of the rest of the guests, “Have you met Mohammed, Sidney, Clayton and Jugdish?  Good.  You’ll have plenty to talk about.”  Or, try to send them to the store to get things, maybe even more than once.

I like dogs, but it is often not a great idea when party guests bring their's, especially when the animal is rather needy or large, and they neglect to inform the host beforehand.  Also, the dog in question is rarely as cute, cool or well-behaved as its owner believes.

Dog Person – This person tends to bring their dog when it is not entirely appropriate, especially when it is an indoors setting, and then usually expect you to find space, water and sometimes even food for their canine compatriots.  

What you might try – The dog is already at your place and you will have already been asked for water and space for the dog.  If the dog becomes a nuisance, mention that subtly to the owner.  If the owner still does not get the hint, suggest more directly that they remove the dog.

The two Original Fish Tacos at the Berryhill on 11th Street in the Heights a week ago Monday for lunch were a bit soggy on the bottom of the aluminum foil each were served in.  That extended to the bottoms of the deep-fried pieces of fish. These were probably the worst-rendered versions I had ever had at a Berryhill in countless visits over the years.  No matter, these were still fairly enjoyable, and over-stuffed with the clean-tasting fish –  farm-raised catfish I had been told in the past –and plentiful strands of violent-colored cabbage for some complementary texture that stretched well beyond the edges of each pair of corn tortillas.  With the complimentary chips and tomato-based salsa, it was a satisfying lunch, and it was just five dollars, including a 25% tip.

For the last couple of months or so, the 11th Street location of Berryhill has been offering their fish tacos for just $1.99 each on Mondays.  This is a terrific deal, even if the Original Fish Tacos were not quite up to their usual quality. That Monday might have been because the dining room was nearly full, and the kitchen might have felt rushed or was cutting some corner.  The tacos were better this Monday; this is a tough value to pass up, if you enjoy a decent fish taco and are within a convenient drive to the heart of the Heights during lunchtime, or dinner, for that matter.

In the evening on Christmas Eve, I received a text from a friend in the Boston area who was enjoying a terrific version  of "Belgian Champagne" with another mutual friend, a beer that I had touted them on the past.  I was glad to have done the groundwork for them.

Excellent beer is the cheapest of the gourmet indulgences. That goes especially so for the strong beers of Belgium.  One of the countless excellent Belgian beers is a somewhat unusual one, and it is easy to find in Houston, Karmeliet Tripel.  At least it is seemingly always at the main Spec’s in Midtown and the bigger of the area H-E-Bs, and likely the terrific D&Q Mini Mart.
 
I drank a bottle of the golden-colored beer not too long ago, and I was very impressed yet again by quality of this beer.  I don’t drink it enough, seemingly once a year for some reason, enough time to forget how outstandingly enoyable it is.  Featuring subtle aromas and a fairly crisp and complex taste with a touch of sweetness – like a muted bit of honey – it concludes with an extremely long, dry finish. It is both easy-to-drink and immensely satisfying with layers of flavor.  Late beer guru Michael Jackson wrote, “Karmeliet has great finesse and complexity.” Wonderfully balanced, it is delicious beer, with a smoothness and delicacy masking its 8.4% alcohol by volume.  
 
Karmeliet is also a different beer, even in the amazingly wide-ranging Belgian beer universe.  It is made with three grains.  Not just the familiar barley malt – from 3-row barley in Karmeliet’s case – but also wheat and oats.  This is typical for the lighter Belgian white beers like the once-great Hoegaarden White and its offspring Celis White, but not for the stronger beers.  But, Karmeliet does even more; the three grains are used in both malted and unmalted forms.  This grain mixture, a restrained use of the central European Styrian hops and a well-suited house yeast helps make for an interesting and multifaceted beer.
 
The use of three grains – actually six types of grains if you count both malted and unmalted versions – is not what makes Karmeliet unusual, though.  It is unusual because it is so very good and so very approachable.  It is a beer that might appeal to a wide range of drinkers, even those who might usually drink mass-produced light beers.  This is because of its relatively light and subtle flavor that can be easily appreciated.  Karmeliet is not just for beer aficionados, but it is perfectly situated to be a gateway for those to become one. Karmeliet should be a maintstay, too.
 
Karmeliet Tripel is around $14 for a 750-ml bottle and $8 for a 11.2-ounce one, both well worth the tarrrif.

​If you have family or friends in town for the holidays for a few days and want to show them some easily digestible local flavor, good Tex-Mex can be the way.  Or, if they are coming from far away, they might have Houston and Texas firmly associated with steak.  With El Tiempo, the local Tex-Mex chain – and the best Tex-Mex purveyors in the city – you can aptly satisfy both tastes.
 
Touted by a friend to a similar dish on El Tiempo’s now-expansive menu, a couple of years I ordered the Carne Asada “La Tana” – a 10-ounce or so cut of marinated skirt steak served with sautéed onions and pieces of sliced serrano peppers, some roasted garlic and then topped with melted white cheese for the first time. The beef was surprisingly tender and very flavorful, even more so with the complementary browned pieces of onion, garlic and bits of fiery pepper tempered with the melted cheese.  It was terrific, one of the best beef dishes I had had in months. Bolstered by sides of charro beans and their delicious, unusual rice, plus the plentiful thin, fresh chips and their top-notch salsas, I could not finish my steak, which is very unusual for me.
 
Given the quality of their fajitas, especially the beef versions, I should not have been surprised at how good this dish was, it is nearly the same thing after all, but I was.  And, for $25.69 at dinner, an order of the Beef Carne Asada “La Tana” is certainly among the best steak values in Houston.  Given how expensive El Tiempo can be for some of their fajitas and mixed grills, this is an especially nice revelation.  The dish is just $19.59 at lunchtime, where it can be perfect for sharing.  The similarly, laudable regular version of the carne asada without the cheese, onions, garlic and peppers is $22.59 and $18.59 for dinner and lunch, respectively.
 
El Tiempo
3130 Richmond, 77098, (713) 807-1600
5602 Washington, 77007, (713) 681-3645
1308 Montrose, 77019, (713) 807-8996
322 Westheimer, 77006, (713) 807-8101
2814 Navigation Boulevard, 77003, (713) 222-6800
2605 S. Gessner, 77063, (713) 785-1220
114 Vintage Park Boulevard, 77070, (281) 374-0500
21810 Kingsland, Katy, 77450, (281) 394-4704

Concerning changing tastes, I mean personal tastes, or preferences: specifically, food and drink that a person likes.  Tastes do change as people go through life. I have certainly noticed it for myself. This has mostly been for the better, or at least broader. I can now appreciate a wider range of foods – well-prepared foods, at least – than I did when I was younger, and that appreciation continues to grow.

Changing tastes are not always for the better, though. An acquaintance relayed a vignette about this that was rather disturbing. Each year he helps drive his elderly parents back to Staten Island after they have spent the winter and early spring months in Florida. His parents are both of Italian stock and have lived their entire lives on Staten Island. He said that his mother was a good cook, especially when cooking dishes with an Italian accent. Italian foodstuffs are rather easy to find on Staten Island, as there are a few other Italian-Americans on Staten Island, to say to the least. Quite a few Italian-American restaurants, too.
Needless to say, his folks know and appreciate quality Italian food – at least the New York version – extremely well, having been eating and cooking it their entire lives. So, during the lengthy drive from Florida a few years ago, the dutiful middle-aged son was shocked to hear his parents request a stop for food….at Olive Garden. He could not believe it. His initial thought was, naturally: this is it, my parents have given up.  He actually was scared.

Fortunately, it turned out to be simply a change in tastes, somewhat brought on by the lack of credible Italianate options where they winter. Still sad, though.

Tastes do change, though definitely not always for the better, and that a sudden affinity for Olive Garden should be severely scrutinized.

​Pizza is from Italy, but pizza is Neapolitan in origin.  It came from Naples, specifically, and actually spread more quickly throughout the U.S. than it did in Italy from its birthplace in Naples, as odd as that may seem.  Pizza initially traveled with the immigrants from Naples and its environs, of whom there were many in this country.
 
One of the most important events in the gustatory history of the country – and an immeasurable future boon to children, college students and the makers of heartburn remedies – seems to have begun officially in 1905 when Gennaro Lombardi, a native of Naples, opened the first licensed pizzeria in America in Manhattan’s Little Italy, Lombardi’s.   He had been making versions of this strictly Neapolitan fast food at the bakery in which he worked, which was also being done elsewhere, at least in his neighborhood.  The New York Tribune noted a couple of years earlier in 1903 in Little Italy that “apparently the Italian has invented a kind of pie. The ‘pomidore pizza,’ or tomato pie.”   These pizza pies were just the province of these Neapolitans; in Italy at the time, it was not found outside of the vicinity of Naples.   “There are only two places in New York where you can get real, genuine Neapolitan pizze. One is on Spring Street and one on Grand. The rest are Americanized substitutes,” reported an informed source, “the Dago,” in a Sun piece in the summer of 1905.   With that first pizzeria at 52 Spring Street, Lombardi used a coal-fired oven, a typical commercial oven at the time.  Though wood was used in the pizzerias in Naples, coal was readily available in New York and burned more efficiently than wood.   The coal-fired ovens would help give New York pies a distinctive crust and taste.
 
These pizzas first found an audience with those recently arrived Neapolitans and quickly spread to all the Italians living in the neighborhood.  Pizza has proven to be a very easy sell over the years.  In the 1920s and 1930s Lombardi’s former employees, all Neapolitans, opened pizzerias in Brooklyn, East Harlem and uptown Manhattan that would be destined to become icons in their own right.  But, pizzas were really an ethnic, mostly Italian, specialty until after the Second World War, even in New York City.   Also in the 1920s, pizzerias were opened by Neapolitan immigrants in the Italian neighborhoods of New Haven, Connecticut, Trenton, and Boston.  Philadelphia and Chicago were two of the few other cities with Neapolitan pizzaioli and pizza before the Depression.   Pizzerias were then still run solely by these Neapolitans and their offspring.  
 
Another trademark American quality, in addition to convenience and efficiency, is size.  The size of pizzas grew in diameter from its original ten inches or so.  Instead of just one, these now fed two to four people, perfectly suited for families and groups of friends.  The pizzas were all fairly similar, still thin-crust with a minimal number of toppings.  Cheese, mushrooms, anchovies, ground beef, onions, and that Italian-American creation, pepperoni, were common, and often used in combinations.  A New Haven pizzeria, Pepe's Pizzeria Napoletana, eventually introduced a version topped with clams (in the 1960s), but there still were not many regional differences.   Pizzas were simple, satisfying, affordable, and easy-to-like.  One variation to the standard pie, found in St. Louis to Chicago and east to West Virginia was to cut the thin circular pizzas into squares.   Pizzerias in St. Louis also began putting Provel cheese on their pies, a bland processed cheese that melts well, an Italian-American Velveeta, and another step toward industrial Americanization.
 
Somewhere along the line, the Sicilian pizza also joined the mix, likely the result of a pizzeria worker or owner from Palermo.  Customers began to have two options dished with the same sauce and toppings: the original circular thin-crust, and a rectangular construction with a thick, usually softer crust.  The latter, the Sicilian pizza was derived from the sfincione served in Palermo, which is a type of spongy focaccia usually topped with vegetables or tomato sauce and cheese or sardines or anchovies.
 
Pizza spread throughout the country after the Second World War, becoming far more common a sight than in Italy where it was still mostly confined to Naples and its environs.  In fact, it was difficult to find pizza north of Naples through the 1960s.   Here, it began to be served well beyond the Italian neighborhoods.  Starting and growing in areas with virtually no competition from pizzerias with Italian antecedents, several regional, national and international pizza companies got their start in the mid-1950s to 1960: Shakey’s in Sacramento (named after one of the malaria-damaged owners) in 1954, Pizza Hut in Wichita and Pizza Inn in Dallas in 1958, Little Caesar’s in suburban Detroit in 1959, and Domino’s in Ypsilanti, Michigan in 1960.   Commercially made gas and electric pizza ovens, along with large mixers for the dough introduced in the mid-1950s, helped make the creation of the pizzas easier, far less dependent on a seasoned pizza-maker.   American business know-how helped even more.  The franchise system increased the number of branches and market presence quickly.  Even if far from the best pizzas around – the pies usually featured doughier and blander crusts and lower-quality toppings – these pizza chains have been greatly enjoyed by millions over the years.  Not incidentally, with tremendous insight, or luck, both Pizza Hut and Pizza Inn first opened right near college campuses.  
 
Pizza has helped others gained their slice of the American dream, too.  Greek-owned places created many oregano-heavy pizzas in the New York area and elsewhere.  Beginning in the 1990s, Albanian immigrants have owned and operated many pizzerias in the northeast.   These groups have also helped reinforce the truly American, broad New York-style. 
 
A local specialty began in Chicago in 1943 with the first deep-dish pizza.  Created at Pizzeria Uno by non-Italians, this hefty dish was really more of a casserole than a pizza (but still a pie), in line with the city’s big-food traditions.   It was baked at lower temperatures for around forty-five minutes or so, far longer than the thin-crust versions, but contained the usual pizza ingredients and flavors and grew to become the fiercely loved, dominant style in and around the Windy City.  Chicago-style has come to mean deep-dish.
 
Another type of pizza was added by a non-Italian, the designer pizza, or the California pizza, introduced in the early 1980s by Wolfgang Puck at his Spago restaurant in Los Angeles.   This helped expand the range of toppings thought possible.  Goat cheese, salmon, chicken, shrimp and even caviar were all successfully found atop Spago’s finely crafted pies.  Its success created a designer pizza craze in Los Angeles in the mid-1980s.  And, though Alice Water’s Chez Panisse might have been the first to do so a few years earlier and inspired Puck, Spago’s example was the one that really popularized the idea that pizza could be served at serious restaurants.
 
An example of how ingrained pizza has become in American culture is a vignette related by the former head of the Italian trade mission in New York.  Soon after arriving in the late 1990s he was asked in earnest by an American friend, “Gioacchino, how does one say ‘pizza’ in Italian?”

“Kenny & Ziggy’s was undoubtedly one of the best delis in the country,” noted David Sax in his far-ranging survey of the genre Save the Deli, affirming that there is plenty substance behind the considerable substance dished at this popular Houston restaurant located near the Galleria. Much more than schmear of Manhattan is evident with décor at its original location on Post Oak – the walls are nearly completely covered with framed Playbills and posters of Broadway productions past and movies set in the City – and, more so, in the kitchen guided by garrulous owner Ziggy Gruber, who embodies three generations of New York deli tradition.  So much so, he was the star of the documentary Deli Man.
 
As you should know, their overloaded sandwiches are a big draw. Available in a myriad of permutations, a slightly less traditional version that works quite well is a 2 Meat Combo featuring house-cured corned beef and roasted turkey, plus a couple of slices of nearly necessary Swiss ($18.95). With top-quality seeded rye providing the outline, the moist and lighter turkey meat is a surprisingly pleasant partner for the gutsier corned beef, giving some additional tasty heft while possibly staving off need for statins for just a little longer.  Possibly.
 
Kenny & Ziggy’s
2327 Post Oak Boulevard, Houston TX 77056
(713) 871-8883

5172 Buffalo Speedway, 77005
(832) 767-1136
kennyandziggys.com

​For more than a few Houstonians, tacos filled with barbacoa are welcome diversion to the necessary weekend Mexican breakfast routine.  Hearty and invariably greasy, it’s not the healthiest of morning options, but it can sure be satisfying.  The local chain of take-away restaurants, Torterilla La Reyna, can aptly fill the bill for them.
 
The barbacoa at La Reyna is barbacoa de res, beef, which is traditionally made by barbecuing an entire cow’s head, and scraping and slicing away the meat.  The barbacoa at La Reyna is moist, tender and seemingly free of the less-universally-liked pieces that can end up in the mix.  Redolently beefy, rich and flavorful, it is deliciously complemented with the cilantro and crisp, chopped onions and their subtle red salsa, which seems made specifically for the barbacoa.  Tortillas are extra, but with “Torterilla” in the name you can expect that the tortillas are fresh and tasty, and they are.  A pound of barbacoa that comes with the salsa and a small bag of the onions and cilantro is a paltry $7.99.  The necessary tortillas are available in corn, flour, wheat (trigo), and as tortillas rojas, ranging from $1.00 for the corn ones to $1.95 for the wheat.  Two hungry adults can fill themselves happily, if a little guiltily, for just over ten bucks.
 
There are seven locations of the Tortillerias La Reyna in mostly Mexican neighborhoods.  The menu is very limited, but tempting up and down, in addition to the well-made barbacoa.  It can make for a great stop to take home to the family or a group.  In any case, take-away is the best option, as seating and atmosphere are very limited or absent.
 
Tortilleria La Reyna
3815 Irvington, 77009, (832) 433-7512
141 Little York, 77076, (713) 699-8222
6275 Bissonnet, 77081, (713) 272-8739
6712 Rampart, 77081, (713) 349-9494
12626 Woodforest, 77017, (713) 637-0222
105 East Edgebrook, 77034, (713) 944-1222
3802 S. Gessner, 77042, (713) 339-3533
tortilleriaslareyna.com

​I was very disappointed to read the news last week that Mockingbird was going to close at the end of the year.  Disappointed, but not terribly surprised.  I was there for happy hour three weeks ago and saw owner-chef John Sheely, who seemed a bit downcast and responded discouragingly when I asked him how business had been. 
 
I’ve long been a fan of Sheely’s cooking, initally at Riviera Grill, his first place that was at Gessner and Westheimer, across the parking lot from Churrascos – whose owner, Michael Cordua, incidentally, was very helpful as Sheely got going, which helped the Houston restaurant scene, too.  Riviera Grill served a fantastic Chilean seabass at a time before that fish reached the endangered lists.  And, Mockingbird has been a favorite for me and at least a few friends since he opened in 2002; I celebrated a few of my birthdays there along the way.  His Osteria Mazzantini in the Galleria area, which had far too short of a run, was my favorite Americanized Italian restaurant, or Italianized American, to open among the several in recent years.  His chef there, the experienced and skilled Paul Lewis, turned out some very enjoyable fare that was somewhat hampered by a darker-than-intended décor that did not quite set a complementary mood.
 
Mockingbird, which sports a full name of Mockingbird Bistro, is indeed a bistro in the broadest sense: it serves locally attune New American food that has been both approachable and skillfully rendered with excellent ingredients served in a white-tablecloth setting. With a noticeably well-trained staff, a nice list of wines and spirits, and staid setting, it worked well for special occasions and has had a clientele that has grown older.
 
The white-tablecloth aspect, bit of formality in the setting, and prices to match the quality of fare are some of the reason I believe that worked against Mockingbird in past year or so.  It appealed to a customer base that was getting older.  The restaurant did not have the kinetic energy that most of the newer and popular restaurants did.  Sheely also mentioned that the downtown in the oil business hurt, as these companies and their employees did not entertain clients or themselves as much.  These two things likely were prime drivers in the recent-month’s closing of Mark’s, which had a broadly similar clientele.  Houston, it seems, cannot support too many white-tablecloth restaurants any more, as the restaurant scene – always informal compared to cities like New York, Chicago, San Francisco and New Orleans – has gotten even more informal.
 
Something else that might have contributed is, along with not just Mark’s with Mark Cox  but also at Sparrow, Monica Pope’s most recent establishment, that Sheely had first won acclaim in the 1990s and had been in the game for a while.  Possibly he, and the others, were not seen as exciting, or interesting, as they had been for so long.  Even Robert Del Grande, the dean of the Houston chefs, rebranded his flagship back to Café Annie this summer.
 
I wish that Mockingbird was not closing, and I hope that Sheely is back in the game locally sooner than later.
 
Mockingbird
1985 Welch (at McDuffie), 713-533-0200
mockingbirdbistro.com

My mom was just talking about bringing sandwiches for lunch to a friend and her husband who have recently been mostly house-bound because of an injury.  Not any sandwiches, but banh mi from Roostar.  Though this couple didn't live too far from the restaurant, they were not familiar with it, nor with banh mi, at all, which is unfortunate.

​There are a couple of pho places a little further north on Gessner, but the ethnic cuisines in this part of Spring Branch where Roostar is located are primarily Mexican and Korean.  The addition of a Mexican accent of its initial name – the very odd Vietnam Polblano – was to provide additional incentive for customers who might not be familiar with banh mi.  It also once had some Mexican-type items that have now been gone for a while and the focused menu largely consists of banh mi, mix-and-match combination plates, and spring rolls, eggrolls, and a soup on the side or to start.  It’s strictly Vietnamese fare at Roostar – possibly with exception of the wings – that is quick, user-friendly and also very good. 
 
The operation is slicker and friendlier than Houston’s first generation of banh mi specialists, if not quite as slick as Les Ba'get on Montrose.  Roostar is maybe slightly more expensive than the typical banh mi spot – if, again, not as expensive as Les Ba'get – but it is certainly worth the price.   An excellent sandwich featuring tasty pork belly and a bit pâté with the usual accompaniments tucked inside a fresh and crusty roll is still all of $4.75.  The attractive and explanatory website gives a clue that the restaurant is more customer-focused and business savvy than most.  Located in an older strip center in a setting that is utilitarian, it is nonetheless brighter and more inviting than the exterior might suggest.
 
Roostar is great find in Spring Branch, and even worth a bit a drive for a top-notch banh mi during lunchtime.  These are some of the best Vietnamese sandwiches in Houston.
 
Roostar
1411 Gessner (just north of Long Point), 77080, (832) 975-0808
myroostar.com

When queried about it, the affable cashier offered that it was “like Chick-fil-A, on steroids.”  Though meant as compliment, that phrase does not do much justice to the Crunchy Chicken sandwich ($11) at Local Foods. The first sensation is that of the crusty exterior of the pretzel bun from the excellent Slow Dough Bakery. A scattering of house-made potato chips on top and ground nuts on bottom provide some crunch. Tomato slices, pickled cucumbers and a touch of buttermilk ranch dressing add moistness and complementary flavors to the tender white pieces of chicken tucked in the middle. With shreds of green lettuce for good measure, this is nothing like a typical chicken sandwich.
 
Also different here is the emphasis on local purveyors and a unique array of offerings including health-conscious soups, salads and sides like couscous, ratatouille, and jicama and cucumber slaw. The commercial cool setting features exposed bricks and pipes, white tiles back the open kitchen, and inviting banquettes and small tables exist among the pleasant interplay of greens, blues and yellows. The three - soon to be four - locations of Local Foods are far from sterile sandwich joints.  These are the type of affordable places that help make Houston such a great place to dine on a regular basis.