|
A D V E R T I S E M E N T
|
|
|
|
A D V E R T I S E M E N T
|
|
Let Go, Let Grady
A good time to let go of a grudge is when you can no longer recall what started it. Chow, Baby had to search its own archives (tickled a bit) to resurrect its hurt at not being invited to the grand opening at Grady Spears’ then-new Chisholm Club nearly a year ago. And that was after Chow, Baby had likened the knee-weakening-handsome Mr. Spears to a juicy pork tenderloin in the “Hottest Local Celebrity” category of Fort Worth Weekly’s 2002 Best in the West-O-Plex awards. What an ingrate!
Realizing that this boycott was only hurting itself, Chow, Baby blazed a trail downtown to the Renaissance Worthington, where the Chisholm Club has staked its claim. My, what a big, beautiful spread. Clean modern lines, soft lighting, a few spurs here and there but surprisingly light on ranch kitsch, the Chisholm Club is sporting its city duds. The food is uptown, too, and there’s plenty of it. A fine breakfast was made the next morning of the leftovers: spears of grilled asparagus ($5), a few bites of a companion’s buffalo hangar steak ($26), a couple of ribs of sweet, fall-off-the-bone-tender wild boar (appetizer, $8), and the desserts that we were too stuffed to eat. Spears’ restaurants (The Nutt House in Granbury, Roadrunner in Las Vegas, the opening-soon Burning Pear in Sugar Land) aren’t known for their finales, but this time the apple cobbler ($5.50) was a cinnamony dream, and the Mexican brownie ($5.50), though not like the ones Chow, Baby devoured in high school, was rich and gooey.
And what made Chow, Baby too full for dessert? Why, just the best boneless ribeye ($35) it has ever had in its entire life. In. Its. En. Tire. Life. Sixteen sizzling ounces of prime dry-aged beef, delivered with crispy edges and a succulent warm pink center. The texture was like butter. The taste was incredible. Chow, Baby can’t afford to go for seconds anytime soon, but it was worth it. Grady, all is forgiven.
Feel the Burn
Other than restaurant openings, which it (ahem) enjoys very much, Chow, Baby avoids staged-for-the-media events. See, by the time Chow, Baby gets around to deciphering its notes and the Weekly gets around to printing these pearls, any timely “news” value is long past. But this staged media event involved firefighters — cute, muscular firefighters taste-testing hot wings. Yum.
For the “Wing Ding Fling,” hosted by Chow, Baby’s favorite magazine, Chile Pepper, a dozen of the Cherry Street station’s bravest chowed down on two dozen brands of wing sauces with three dozen media folk watching them. If you missed the morning news shows a couple of weeks ago, or the Star-T article by cub reporter Bill Teeter (man, whose butt did he have to kiss to get this great assignment?) here are the winners: Louisiana Wildly Wicked Wing Sauce (mild), Emeril’s Wing Sauce (medium), and BellyCheer’s Lord of the Wings (diablo). Now more than ever, Chow, Baby wants to be a firefighter when it grows up.
Email this Article...
