Ladies Who Lunch: An Afternoon at Stephan Pyles

My tongue still tingles when I think back to my lunch at Stephan Pyles, a singular pleasure heightened by the truant thrill of indulging mid-day, lunching long and leisurely, rather than post-poning the pleasures of the table until after eight hours of work. 

 It was Mom's birthday, a reasonable (even virtuous) excuse to put away pens, to "shut down" instead of "restart", and silence all cell phones on a Friday afternoon.  We arrived at Stephan Pyles a primped and perfumed trio, Mom and I and a dear friend, and were seated in full view of the bustling open kitchen.  My companions remarked on the fluid ballet of efficiency on display behind the glass: "It's so busy in there, but so quiet!"  "They all move so fast, and don't spill a drop!"  Indeed, it was a sight to see, but not so intense as to distract from the bright, well-appointed dining room (full of good-looking groups) or the delicious decor of the table itself.

We started, as my research recommended, with ceviche.  To please all palates, we opted for the Sea Bass with Avocado and Tomatillo, and were delighted with the creamy twang of this Latin seafood salad.  As a respected reviewer recently commented, it did register as a close cousin of guacamole, but this is not to say it didn't dazzle.  Upon my return, I will most certainly try the versions featuring Sea Scallops or Bronzini, or perhaps the trio featuring three selections from the extensive ceviche menu.

The salad course is always a favorite of mine, and I award a special place in my hungry heart for restaurants that give leaves their props.  I ordered the Garden Greens with Really Good Olive Oil and - what do you know? - it was exactly so.  Fresh mixed greens arrived unadorned and were dressed a la minute at tableside by our server.  I was charmed by the tiny ampules he bore, and as he emptied each onto my salad, he announced its name. "Here is your Balsamic Vinegar Reduction," he intoned with a squeeze.  "And here, Miss, is the Really Good Olive Oil."  Amply annointed, I then salted my salad from the colorful selection in the center of the table.  I opted for clouded white Sea Salt, but could not resist flicking a few grains of Smoked Salt on my tongue as well, and was rewarded when the ebony crystals slowly melted into wisps of campfire and summer cookouts.

At entree time, the birthday girl was presented with a crisp flatbread pizza.  Its slightly-charred crust and scattering of smoked tomato, goat cheese and shrimp pleased her to no end; it was her perfect pie.  Our companion also enthused over her entree, the Kabocha Squash Gnocci, and I helped myself to a spoonful to see what the fuss was about.  Those precious pillows in silken sauce proved a comforting counterpart to the raciness of my Goat Cheese-Beet Tortellini.  The pasta packets' magenta filling was my first clue this dish would put a smile on my lips.  What a color!  It was the shade of Barbie's favorite shoes, of a surfer's trunks - of graffiti, not gastronomy.  I was tickled, and the flavors of earthy beets and goat cheese, ricotta salata and roasted red peppers evolved with each forkful, keeping me intrigued.

And, finally, what is a birthday meal without a celebratory dessert?  "Coffee and Donuts", Pyles-style, is a tower of freshly fried, powdered sugar-dusted donuts atop a dark and rich dip, surrounded by a pool of coffee creme brulee.  The donuts are classic, chewy to the tooth and melting on the tongue, and the mellow dip serves to heighten their delicate sweetness.  The brulee featured a perfect toffee-like burnt sugar crust, revealing a silken coffee custard beneath.  At the first spoonful I swooned; two bites and my eyelashes fluttered.  Mom called from across the table, "Honey?  Are you all right over there?"  I recovered, and I've been gushing over this deceptively simple dessert at happy hour and dinners, to my mailman and my bank teller, ever since.

So there you have it.  An indulgent mid-day meal (not to mention impeccable service and a choice table) shared with two of my favorite dining companions at one of Dallas' most revered restaurants.  While I doubt we'll be joining the likes of the Ladies Who Lunch anytime soon, it was a pleasure to play at their game for an afternoon at Stephan Pyles. 

Freeze! Step away from the Seasoned Diced Cooked Beef (Contains up to 10% Solution)!

...Or, How I'm Savin' Myself All The Way to Indigestion

If, like me, you are lured every Sunday into a love-hate relationship with the glossy, brightly-colored coupon ads in the center fold of the paper, you may have likewise been lured into purchasing one of Del Monte's new Harvest Selections entrees. The $1-off could have been too much to resist. In the world of coupon clipping, the $1 denomination is king: Twenty-five cents is rarely worth your time, 50 cents is the workhorse - one of, if not the most popular denomination - and the $1-off is what makes it all worthwhile. A whole dollar off! A crisp, clean Washington left to grow and mature in your money market account.

But, sometimes, you lose your head. Wanting so desperately to save, we end up spending on something we never would have spent on in the first place (let's not discuss the adult-baby-wipe debacle, or those lamb-and-feta links that I was sure would look more appealing once cooked and nestled in a bun). Enter the aforementioned entree. The $1-off coupon effected a half-off sale on this heavily-packaged shelf-stable new entry in the portable office lunch category. At only $2, it would have been cheap even without my little promissory note. And everything about the look and taste of the entree is worth the price.

Not having a microwave, I eschewed the “cut slit in film, nuke for 90 seconds” directions in favor of removing my “Beef and Vegetable Stew” into a saucepan to heat it the old-fashioned way. This was a mistake. I believe now that the opaque film cover is designed to spare diners the horror of seeing this stuff in its unheated state. I am not exaggerating when I say it looked like it emerged from a pet food pouch. But pate looks a little like doggie chow too – so I was not discouraged. At least, not yet.

After heating quickly to a bubble (which required the addition of two tablespoons of water, since I was going it range-style), I sampled for seasoning. The stew required copious amounts of salt and pepper to even register a flavor on my palate – strange, considering the 810 mg of sodium it contains as-is. Where did all that salt go? Is one of the ingredients on the lengthy list designed to mask saltiness?

Even with added seasoning, the flavor was, at best, lacking. At worst, you could say it was like the cafeteria day at school that you marked in red pencil on the take-home calendar so that you wouldn't forget to beg your mom to pack you a sandwich that morning. The globulous milky-colored mass that I encountered half-way through my stew also reminded me of school lunches....there was always something in there, somewhere, that just wouldn't go down. I really don't know what this teaspoon-sized rubbery blob was, only that it refused to yield to my molars and had to be removed somewhat indelicately with my thumb and forefinger. Luckily, my only dining companion was my beagle and she is not what you'd call a stickler for table manners.

The upside to this entree was that it contains two servings of vegetables, a fact touted boldly on the cardboard sleeve. Indeed, it's vegetable-rich. Considering the type and quality of the veggies, however, you'd be better off simply supplementing your Lean Cuisine with some baby carrots and an apple.