Bring it! Let's get this city turned around! (image swiped from ABC)

Dear Mark,

I am addicted to Shark Tank. And because I am too lazy to jump through the hoops to get on the show and present my idea, I’m using the power of my pudgy fingers to reach you. Let’s pick and roll:

I walk on the set of Shark Tank. “Daymond John, you are so out,” I say. “Barbara, if I wanted to sell my cellulite-reducing sous-vide hot dog you’d be my best friend, but I’m keeping it to myself. You’re out.”

I watch the other sharks glance around, really scared at this point, and go for the kill. “Kevin, don’t even open that ugly mouth. You’re out. Robert, you can buy me dinner after the show but, for now, you are dead to me.”

Cameras swing: Close-up of Cuban. Music swells.

Mark. We live in the same city. We love the same teams. More importantly, we eat in the same restaurants. Last night, our city’s finest chef, Bruno Davaillon of the Rosewood Mansion on Turtle Creek, lost Best Chef in the Southwest at the James Beard Awards in New York City to a young chef in Austin who appeared on Top Chef. It has been 18 years since a Dallas chef won this title. We need a local version of Shark Tank geared towards Dallas restaurateurs. That way, you and I can work together to tighten up our game and turn it around. We have the talent, we need the exposure. And that exposure shouldn’t have to come from the Food Network or Bravo.

I propose we put together a panel of experts and ask  restaurateurs to pitch their ideas BEFORE they decide to sink their life savings into an upscale seafood and sushi restaurant in a bad location. Let’s kick the steak house wannabes to Fort Worth. Mark, I’m asking you to invest whatever it takes to help us bring the talent of the Dallas restaurant community to the international scene. In exchange, I offer you fifty percent of my idea. Oh, and you can keep the Mavs.

Looking forward to hearing from you,

Nancy

P.S. If this helps illustrate my talent: I promoted women’s basketball in Dallas before the Mavericks were a thought in your brain. Just ask Nancy Lieberman.

A solar powered giant calculator from geekalert.com that will help in situations like these.

I visited an Indian restaurant in Irving this past weekend with a couple friends, eager to consume mango lassi with a side of samosas since it was a place that I’d heard good things about. I walked in, and it was one of those confusing restaurants where you’re not sure what to do first. Seat yourself or wait to be seated? There wasn’t a sign, so the woman behind the cash register told us to order first after I’d asked.

Six samosas, three drinks, and four entrees later, I could tell that the employee was struggling with my large order. She didn’t have a fancy cash register to add up the bill, but possessed a calculator-looking thing that spat out the receipt at the top. That’s fine. I understand that not every restaurant has the means to buy the most modern technology. What boggles my mind is when the cashier woman finished adding up my bill, she told me she wasn’t sure if she did her math correctly.

Really? I wondered if she was serious, and when she gave me another confused look, I pulled out my calculator app and began adding up my own order. A lot of you will probably think I’m a snot for even mentioning this out loud, and I agree, yes, I probably am. But I’ve realized that all this time I’ve taken competent cashiers for granted.

Has this happened to you before? Do you carry around a big calculator everywhere you go so you can tally up your bill? If this happens again, I think I’ll bust out my TI-83 and at least look a bit more professional when I’m doing someone’s job for them.

Upon arrival at Miami International Airport, I was stunned to find 92 percent of the people attempting to go through immigration, luggage retrieval, and customs while texting. I felt like I landed in a world of zombies. People ran their wheeled Tumi bags over my feet without noticing. They held up lines because they were distracted. I vowed not to go back to that.

Texting at the dinner table is not a new issue. I have a friend, oh we’ll call him Belevan, who texts in the car, in a movie, and at tables in fine restaurants. His defense is that he has to be available at all times. It’s a horrible emotional tornado that whips up when you text, Facebook, Tweet everything you do. I’m guilty. My job is time sensitive and dependent on instant information, but I am drawing the line now at the dinner table. There is nothing worse than talking to the top of someone’s head while they text in their lap.

It must drive restaurateurs nuts. Service people as well. It’s rude and disrespectful to the people you are eating with and the food you are eating. Anybody have a suggestion for how to stop the madness? Perhaps restaurants should add a phone usage charge to the bill.

Poutine from the Greenhouse Tavern, Cleveland OH (photo from Columbus Underground @ www.columbusunderground.com)

A couple of weeks ago I gushed about my love for the burgers at Kenny’s Burger Joint.  One of our Sidedishers, “Kirk,” commented that they offered “the closest facsimile of poutine in the DFW area.”  When I heard this, it was not long until I found my way back to sample the Kenny’s version.  As you likely know, “poutine” is a classic Canadian dish, traditionally composed of crispy French fries, cheese curds, and a brown gravy.  The most successful variations of poutine are able to serve the fries thick and crisp, the cheese curd soft but not so completely melted that they lose all their texture, and the gravy incorporated into each bite, but not so much as to turn the whole thing into a soup or make the fries overly soggy.  However, this dish is incredibly hard to find in Dallas.  I don’t understand why this is so.  Perhaps it’s our distance from our neighbors to the North? Perhaps there are not enough Canadians here in the Lone Star State?  It really is a travesty.

Kenny's version of "poutine"

Kenny’s version was tasty but had some flaws compared to the more traditional Canadian versions. It was very heavy on the gravy, which left the otherwise exceptional fries a bit too soggy.  The melted Jarlsberg cheese was rather scant and lacked the textural chew that comes from a good cheese curd.  One of the more memorable American variations can be found at the Greenhouse Tavern in Cleveland, OH which serves duck fat fries, mozzarella curd and veal gravy.  However, there seems to be nothing like this in the Dallas area.

What gives, Dallas restauranteurs?  This is a dish I think Dallas would truly embrace.  Even a poutine food truck could work.  Anyone know where this delectable dish may be found in Big D?

Here are the facts: I am neither beautiful nor a lady. Don’t really aspire to be. So why lay it on so thick? (My late-grandmother, by the way, once threw a fork at a waiter who called her “young lady.” She was 92 at the time.)

I can tolerate waiter-interruptus, and I understand that service comes with a fair dose of insincerity, but it’s the bald-faced “lovely lady” lie that’s so grating. Give me a pro, a server I can admire for his gentility. Give me a server who knows his food, who’s willing to give an opinion and make a joke. But leave the buttering-up in the kitchen.

Is it just me? Or do other people long for a end of the pandering, too?

This quick assessment from a professional food critic who reviewed Dallas restaurants while taking copious amounts of sinus medication? After my ENT doctor read about Raskin’s sinus problems,  he called me and said: “She had no business reviewing restaurants. Her palate was dead.” If I were a restaurateur who was reviewed during her reign, I’d be demanding a redo. No wonder she called Dallas a “dining nowhereville.” She wasn’t able to taste anything. She blathers on:

I shouldn’t be surprised that the imagined relationship between rigorous professional criticism and good food doesn’t hold up. I moved here from Dallas, a city that’s covered ruthlessly by established food critics, including the Dallas Morning News‘ Leslie Brenner, D Magazine’s Nancy Nichols, and Texas Monthly’s Pat Sharpe. The food there isn’t any better for it.

Hanna, you take one trip to Portland and declare “Portland appears to have entered the post-professional critic era, and the food scene hasn’t suffered.” Oh my. I need a Xanax. Writers in Portland were sadly laid off by print publications. Raskin should be next.

Hunky Town, Twin Pricks, Tooter’s, Pecker’s Hot Italian Sausage, Tube Steak Junction, Cake Balls to the Walls, Nuts and Butts, Quickies, Long Dong Silver, Tally Whacker’s, Love Mussels, Wee Willie’s, Twig and Berries.

Ladies, the floor is open.

Fans, just wanted to let you know that YELP has been removing our 5 star reviews for our McKinney location, we have talked to them and they have told us we can’t do anything about it. YELP has been unfair and removed 24 reviews all of which were 4 and 5 stars. But they keep calling us to advertise, and told us it would get better if we advertised. It’s all about making money, what a shame they used to be a great site.

Ouch! Maybe their cyber technicians can detect comments left by the same person. I don’t know. However, this morning comes a note from another just-as-loyal Disher.

I think you’d better take a seat and get ready for this rumble. Oh, and if you know Jack Perkins of Maple & Motor, you might want to text him a link. Okay? Let’s go.

Loyal Disher writes:

I’m sure you have seen this article about Yelp’s impact on restaurants [Ed. Note: I have now!] I use Yelp mainly when I’m going out of town but I use similar sites – Urbanspoon and Trip Advisor more often. I think the sites are relevant and have credibility. It’s interesting that so many restaurant owners seem to despise Yelp and think the reviewers who give them negative feedback are unknowledgeable.  One doesn’t have to look any further than Jack Perkins (M&M). He seems to be on a personal crusade to dispute anything negative said about him or his restaurant. Anywhere he can, he posts brash, bombastic rebuttals to reviewers (except for Yelp — I heard he got booted off Yelp for his harassment of reviewers.) I’ve seen other snide comments about Yelp and its users from other restaurant owners on their Facebook page.

I wondered what you, and more importantly, your readers think of Yelp and a restaurant owner who argues incessantly with reviewers that he doesn’t like.  I like Maple and Motor just fine and have no problem with the restaurant’s policies (I actually like them) but I can’t get past the blatant “you can go to hell if you have a complaint or issue with my restaurant” attitude.  I’m sure many restaurant owners have wanted to tell a paying customer where to go — but have thought twice. Where is the respect for the customer?   Has Yelp and similar sites caused this animosity towards customers?

Yow. Zah. What a crazy world we live in. I don’t think of Yelp, so I’m no help.  So, here’s the deal. Do you use Yelp, Urbanspoon, or Trip Advisor? If so, which one do you find the most useful? Have you had comments deleted?

Restaurant owners: I think I could get pissed by anonymous people leaving remarks about experiences in my restaurant. I remember Hector Garcia telling us about the four-top who that walked in and announced “Table for four. We are Yelpers.” Everybody is a food critic without standards. Speak up Dishers, Yelpers, Spooners, and Advisors.

If you spot the word YUM in a post after today, you will win a prize. Carry on.

Tall toques and toddlers: good or bad idea?

Lots of chinwagging taking place in the webosphere. Fine dining restaurants, such as this place in Pennsylvania, are banning children under six years of age. I tend to dine early and have witnessed children who squeal and squirm while their parents sip wine and attempt to enjoy a fine meal. I believe it is a good practice to take children into fine dining restaurant. It’s important to learn manners at an early age. The only time it chaps my sass is when the parents don’t reprimand their misbehaving offspring or take charge of the situation. Take this recent example from a loyal Disher.

Jump for the shrilling report.

So I went to a restaurant because it is intimate, romantic, and adult. So why were there two tables with three year old (or younger) kids? One table was dining early – and they only had one child which was very, very well behaved. But about halfway through our meal (7:30ish) two couples came in with their two toddlers and were seated in the dining room. One mom whips out a bag of cooked, plain spaghetti and plops some on each kid’s bread plate, then another bag appears with sliced fruit. One kid won’t share the apple, the moms are trying to work it out, the dad’s are oblivious, or ignorant, continuing their conversation with their heads bent down, One kid wants out of her high chair, badly, and mom’s trying to coax her to stay, in the meantime sticky spaghetti is falling from the plate onto the floor. Every mom’s nightmare – it doesn’t work – and the kid erupts with about 6 shrill LOUD screams.

The dining room stops. The older couple seated to our left have sunk about a foot lower in their chairs, grasping their wines glasses with whitened knuckles. The parents glance over and with embarrassed shrugs kind of throw out an I’m sorry in the general direction of everyone else. The dads just smile, nod, and continue their discussion, going back to ignoring the moms and kids.

Yow. Zah. What is the solution? I think it should be left up to the parents. If I were one, I wouldn’t be happy if my kids were banned from restaurants. I’m still waiting to be able to take my dog to the French Room.

Asador.

I know, now, it’s Spanish for grill but still, come on. Really? Anybody else unhappy with the name of a restaurant?

Humiliating Presentation: This poor little lamb flew all the way from New Zealand to have a stick shoved in its leg?

I hate rain-delayed baseball games. Especially those with 11:20PM starting times, torrential rain and hail, and tornado warnings. I like my sleep and I like the Rangers to win.

With a crabby demeanor, I begin today by tossing a rock at what I call “cute food.” I’m talking sliders, $5 cupcakes, cupcakes in a jar, mac and cheese in little iron skillets, cake balls (pops), lamb called lollipops, pickles on top of gourmet burgers, ad nauseum.  These are a few of my least favorite things. Oh, and I’ll add chicken wings because they have no purpose on this earth. Your turn. Go.

Their motto? “Treating anorexia since 2005.” Their objective? “Always keeping the patient’s budget in mind, you’ll have the comfort of knowing that all your meals are absolutely free once you reach the 350 pound goal weight. Imagine the joy of knowing you’ve finally achieved something!” Their sales pitch? “Doctors agree that continually cycling body weight up and down is one of the very worst things a person can do to themselves. That’s why our program is focused upon keeping your weight in an extremely stable, gradual, and constant upward slope.”

Since I posted the arrival of Heart Attack Grill, the company’s 575-pound spokesman died. He was 29. Funny? Some people think so. Subtle? As a heart attack. Please stay with me here.

Now, let’s talk about In-N-Out Burgers, the burger chain that opened locations in Frisco and Allen yesterday. The founders and the folks behind In-N-Out Burger serve you fresh, albeit high-calorie food too. Their gimmick comes in the form of a secret menu offering double-double (two meats, two cheeses), 4X4 (four meats, four cheeses), high butterfat shakes, and fries covered in cheese. If you eat In-N-Out burgers everyday, you too can reach 350 pounds. But instead of throwing fat in your face, In-N-Out prints Bible scriptures on their packaging. Check the bottom of that soft drink cup and you’ll find Revelation 3:20: “Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with that person, and they with me.” How many times you knock on that door is up to you. Your last supper could be at either restaurant.

Funny? No. Subtle? Yes, but to some people it is disturbing. I, for one, don’t like religion literally poured down my throat.

I was walking into a Dairy Queen in East Texas one sunny afternoon and the man who was walking out said, “Hello friends. Have you found the love of Jesus this fine day?” I let it pass but my 60-year old gay friend who doubles as an atheist was offended. He made a good point. He said, “What I’d have said to him is ‘hello friend, have you found the pleasure of homosexual sex today?’” His point? Don’t “force” your views on strangers.

All of the customers lined up outside In-Out-Burger yesterday didn’t seem to mind the words of Jesus wrapped around their burgers. However, there are some local folks who are horrified at the opening of Heart Attack Grill and the message is shines toward obese customers. One is Laurel Wright.

Laurel, her husband, and her son were all overweight. They felt there was no hope and they would be fat forever. They avoided going to the doctor and tried gimmicky weight loss programs. Her husband was taking two types of insulin. After Laurel hit size 22 she started to cook and eat healthier. Since then she has dropped 80 pounds, her husband is on half of his diabetes meds, and their son is down three pant sizes. She has her own YouTube library to prove it.

“Obesity is a huge problem. You feel like you have no hope,” Wright said. “I think the message that restaurant [Heart Attack Grill] is giving obese people is disgusting.”

Wright has organized a protest across the street from Heart Attack Grill. She and her band of healthy eaters will gather at 5AM and work in shifts passing out leaflets and fresh fruit. “I want them to know that there is hope,” Wright said. “You don’t have to be encouraged or get praise for weighing 350 pounds.”

Do you want Jesus or a heart attack with those fries? Tell me, I want to know.

Jump and growl.

Hi Nancy,

If you are working on any stories for Cinco de Mayo, please consider my client Wolfgang Puck Signature Tortilla soup. This recipe, now available to consumers everywhere, is based on a dish Chef Puck serves in his own restaurants. The organic vegetable stock, organic tomatoes, corn and peppers along with tortilla flour are a perfect blend for the festive occasion and only costs $2.50 (MSRP) at your local grocery store!

Serve on its own or with any of your favorite additions such as tortilla chips, salsa, cheese, sour cream and guacamole. If you are entertaining, take a suggestion from Chef Puck himself who says there’s no shame in passing partially store-bought dishes off as your own creations. Wolfgang says, “To entertain like a chef, be smart – don’t spend all of your time cooking. Use one of my soups, hide the can and say you did it all yourself. You have to cheat a little, it’s ok!”

Please let me know if you have any questions, are interested in a Wolfgang Puck Soup giveaway or would like to receive a sample of Wolfgang Puck Signature Tortilla soup.

Really? It’s “based on a dish Chef Puck serves?” Doesn’t Chef Puck have enough money already. The last hotel I stayed in had a coffee maker and coffee with Wolfgang Puck’s mug on them.  But asking a publicist to write e-mails like the one above just makes me tired. What are the odds Chef Puck really said “to entertain like a chef, be smart—don’t spend your time cooking.”

Am I being too critical?

So I ask you, dear Dishers. How do you handle tipping valet?