Hey, East Dallas. You are really getting your game on. Today comes word that James St. Peter, Mr. Hypnotic Donuts, has quit his day job to be a full time donut dude. His exotic concoctions will be available in January 2012 at his new digs at 9007 Garland Rd. Listen:
Hyppies, as patrons are known as, will enjoy a casual in-store experience with seating at the donut and coffee bar, or lounging on the sofas and living room chairs. Standard chairs and tables will be placed throughout the space as well. In following St. Peter’s Hyppie mantra, Hypnotic Donuts will upcycle/recycle as much as possible, expect to see reclaimed furniture and décor from local vintage, resale, thrift and charity stores. To further utilize local talent, local artist have been commissioned to paint a mural of well-known hippies throughout history giving customers the joy of sharing a Hypnotic experience with their favorite hippies. Also, coffee will be supplied by locally owned and award winning Oak Cliff Coffee Roasters and will be brewed by the French press method.
Yo, groovy secret-keeping dudes in The OC. Watch your back. East Dallas is moving up.
4 Comments »According to several attendees of Sunday’s XX Caesar Salad Competition, the charity event ended with a quite a bang. SideDish reporter Andrew Chalk was leaving the Westin Galleria tonight when he heard emcee Scott Murray yelling from the Senate floor stage. “At first I thought it was the live auction and somebody had just made a big buy,” Chalk said. “Then I realized he was shouting abuse at some guy in the audience.”
I contacted AIWF rep Freda Ballas. “We did have some people complain about him [Murray] using the f-word,” Ballas said. Both Ballas and Chalk tell the same tale. Murray was onstage pulling names from the raffle bowl and announcing winners. You buy a ticket and a number is called. Simple. Tonight, a nice little girl put her hand in the bowl and pulled out a ticket and handed it to Murray. Instead of announcing a number, Murray read out a name.
Some dude near the stage yelled something to the effect of “This is rigged,” and Murray went nuts. From various reports Murray say words to the effect of: “If somebody thinks I have control over the tickets I pulled, you can meet me outside right now and I’ll give you a check for $500.” Meanwhile, Del Frisco’s chef, David Holben, was busy packing up his knives. He won the competition.
Somewhere, both Julius Caesar and Caesar Cardini are smiling. Holben’s victorious salad was an extra-garlic-and-anchovy version of Cardini’s original. Murray battled like a gladiator.
11 Comments »After the World Series, I asked you guys to tell me where to ease my depression by going face down in a plate of enchiladas. I took all of your suggestions to heart, but headed to one of my usual down-and-dirty favs, Escondido. As I drove down Maple, I passed Avila’s. I haven’t eaten there since the high-drama family feud that sent Ricky Avila to open Mextopia on Greenville erupted.
I’ve always liked Avila’s. One of my favorite things about the place is the smell that greets you when you open the door—fresh chopped jalapenos, onions, and cilantro. The “new” Avila’s, now run by one branch of the family, has an updated interior. The walls are a cheery blue and the enlarged Mexican Loteria cards hanging on said walls pop out like friendly greeters.
But grrrrrrrrr on the enchiladas! I ordered the “Anita’s”: one cheese enchilada, one soft cheese taco, and one meat taco. The ground beef in the hard shell taco was inedible, almost sour. The soft cheese taco was covered with a runny yellow queso that, save for the pickled jalapenos I threw on top, was void of flavor. Even an enchilada covered with a meaty chili sauce was bland. There were no crunchy onions in the center. No think gooey melted cheese oozing out. No comfort. Oh, and the guacamole was just a scoop of mashed avocado we had to dress with spoonfuls of salsa, salt, and lemon. The underlying lettuce was brown. I know they can do better than this, but next time I want to use up valuable calories, I will head to El Jordan or Escondido. Or, at this point, Mexico. So depressed.
Dishers, I am deeply depressed over the SF Giants victory last night. The city of San Francisco already has everything they need—food, architecture, beautiful views, fish. Infinity. It would have been so much more significant for the culture of Dallas if the Rangers had won. Perhaps we could shed the freakin’ boot-scootin-Billy Bob’s image we have all over the country. But nooo.
Today, Jenny Craig will have to wait. I need a big fat plate of cheesy enchiladas. Bring them on. Tell me where to go.
Update: RunDMC made my day with this clever comment: “Personally, I’m all over Rusty’s Enchiladas, Urban Enchiladas, Torchy’s Enchiladas, Enchiladas to Go, Enchiladas ‘r Us and Give ‘en Inch, ‘n Lawda They Take a Mile.”
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