Photo by Nicholas L. Hall

The cookie was actually purple. Apparently, my camera is white-balance challenged.

Dining out with children is an exercise in situational awareness. Each experience is unique, with different variables leading to different possible outcomes, DEFCON-like in their escalating threat levels. Keen observation, forward planning and prior experience are critical in determining the proper strategy. Here at DEFCON Dining, we do the grunt work for you. It ain't always pretty.

For the longest time, we were hesitant to go to Paulie's. Looking back, I'm not entirely sure why that was the case. My wife and I were talking about it just the other day, and the best answer we could settle on is the fact that Paulie's felt a bit too adult for us. In a way, something about the austerity of the interior lent it more gravitas than many much more reserved joints. There was a quiet about it, and we didn't want to ruin that for the rest of the diners. Boy, are we glad we got over that. The cookies sure helped.

More >>

Photo by Nicholas L. Hall

Sadly, Ramen Yamadaya has not yet opened up its Houston location.

Dining out with children is an exercise in situational awareness. Each experience is unique, with different variables leading to different possible outcomes, DEFCON-like in their escalating threat levels. Keen observation, forward planning, and prior experience are critical in determining the proper strategy. Here at DEFCON Dining, we do the grunt-work for you. It ain't always pretty.

I've really got to stop letting my little one pick where we eat. She's developed this uncanny knack for selecting restaurants that ride the fine edge of my willingness to tolerate them, disliked enough to be met with an utter dearth of enthusiasm, but not so despised as to warrant an automatic "NO." It's truly remarkable how keenly she's developed this skill. On any given day, she'll invariably choose exactly the right (wrong) restaurant. The day before, she may have needed to move three rungs up the ladder; tomorrow, she might be able to get away with a much less desirable eatery. Okay. That last bit was a lie. NEVER AGAIN.

For what it's worth, Jenni's Noodle House doesn't actually make it to the list of restaurants I actively dislike. My relationship with Jenni's is more one of near total apathy. I can't remember ever having wanted to go there, nor have I ever had a violent reaction to its suggestion. In fact, I can't remember meeting its recommendation with anything other than a detached, slightly resigned shrug.

So it was on a recent Tuesday evening when, after the marathon that is Girl Scouts Night finally came to a close around 8 p.m., none of us having supped, a tiny voice piped up from the back seat in response to the query of what to have for dinner. Shoulders duly shrugged, we made our way to Jenni's.

I can't even figure out what it is, exactly, that she likes about the place. There's nothing on the menu that grabs her attention, particularly. It's always a bit of a struggle to get her to eat her dinner, truth be told. In all honesty, I think it might be the rub-on tattoos supplied, free of charge, by the cash register. My daughter is a sucker for those things, gladly turning herself into a fresh-faced walking advert, noodle-wound chopsticks proudly adhered to her forehead.

More >>

Photo by Nicholas L. Hall

I wonder if I could order the chips as a meal. . .

Dining out with children is an exercise in situational awareness. Each experience is unique, with different variables leading to different possible outcomes, DEFCON-like in their escalating threat levels. Keen observation, forward planning, and prior experience are critical in determining the proper strategy. Here at DEFCON Dining, we do the grunt-work for you. It ain't always pretty.

2012 has been a hell of a year, so far. If things continue apace, I figure I'll be committed by June. Most recent in the list of grievances was a call I received a week ago, while at work. I was already expecting to leave early to take my youngest to a visit with a pediatric allergist; we suspected asthma, and wanted to get to the bottom of the near-constant breathing problems that had plagued her since the beginning of fall. Turns out she also had a sinus infection.

The call came from my wife, an edge of panic in her voice, telling me that my daughter's pediatrician had called her, asking that she bring our daughter in immediately. Some lab work she had done at her last visit had just come back, and it looked like she had a staph infection. I was home in 15 minutes, and we had our daughter to the doctor in 30.

As it turns out, she's fine. They'd caught the infection early, it was mild, and they got her on an ass-kicking, name-taking antibiotic. Even after we found out that what had seemed like truly frightening news was not such a big deal, we felt for the kid. She'd been poked and prodded, tested and re-tested a lot lately, missing a few play-dates here and there because of her illnesses. I decided to take her out to lunch instead of returning her to school, and I asked her to pick the spot.

More >>

Photo by Nicholas L. Hall

One of the best bites in Houston.

Dining out with children is an exercise in situational awareness. Each experience is unique, with different variables leading to different possible outcomes, DEFCON-like in their escalating threat levels. Keen observation, forward planning, and prior experience are critical in determining the proper strategy. Here at DEFCON Dining, we do the grunt-work for you. It ain't always pretty.

As much as I love eating out with my kids (sarcasm only partially intended), I also really love the opportunity to do the same without them. Over the past eight-or-so-years, my wife and I have probably dined solo a dozen times, excluding anniversaries and other sundry special occasions. That's cool; it's just part of the territory. A couple of weeks ago, though, it looked like we were going to enjoy one of those rare coups.

A school friend had invited the girls over for a play date, or at least that's what we thought. It was a simple case of misjudged intentions, and we actually caught it before the disappointment of our younger daughter had the opportunity to blossom. As my wife and I discussed the fact that, in all likelihood, it was a one-on-one deal, we decided to mollify the left-out youngster with brunch and a park outing.

Beforehand, the plan had been for my wife and I to catch the final, final installment of Money Cat Brunch. I thought I might be able to pull of a different sort of coup, and get my Money Cat regardless. After-all, the kid sure did like those donuts. . .

More >>

Photo by Nicholas L. Hall

What lies beneath?

Dinner that night did not get off to an auspicious start. My wife had called me while I was on my way home from work, telling me that I was to drive out to Westheimer and the Beltway, to meet her and the kids for dinner with her sister. This did not make me happy. About 15 minutes later, as I was fighting Galleria traffic, she called me back with a new plan; we were to meet up with a different sister at a park near our house, then caravan to a pizza joint on the northern edge of the Heights. By the time I met up with them, I felt like a yo-yo. A very frazzled yo-yo.

Of course, it's easy to have your mood changed when your youngest, upon seeing you get out of the car at the park, shouts "Daddy! Watch this!" and flings herself headlong at the monkey-bars, her erstwhile nemesis, finally conquering the twisted steel beast. Basking in the glow of her accomplishment, I scooped her into the car, along with my other daughter and wife, and we were off. Three cars - two sisters-in-law, one mother-in-law, one under-two niece, and my crew - headed to the newest, not quite ITL location of Brother's Pizzeria.

Brother's has long been a favorite of my pizza-addicted sister-in-law, and she was excited to be taking us to this new, somewhat closer outpost of the NY slice shop style stalwart. I'd only been to the original location on Highway 6 once, but had reasonably fond memories. My sister-in-law swears Brother's is superior to several of my own favorites, including the wood-oven pies at Dolce Vita, so she is not entirely to be trusted.

More >>

Photo by Nicholas L. Hall

A table full of happiness. Including the kids.

I despise valet parking. That's not even hyperbole. I've parked six blocks away from a restaurant and walked, rather than valet parking. Perhaps it's silly. Perhaps it's merely shame at the growing detritus of 14 combined years' worth of kids piled in my backseat. Regardless, it's one of the reasons I hadn't yet visited The Queen Vic.

Things change when you get home from work, only two days back into the swing and already feeling the grind, greeted by hungry kids clamoring to be fed. I put food dishes in their cages before I leave for work; it's not my fault if they refuse to eat their kibble. So the usual name-game began, trying to suss through our list of regulars and hopefuls, searching for the right plan.

As parents, we've learned to be dining opportunists. When the waters are pacific, we sail to nicer shores. The kids are in pretty good moods, lately, the midpoint of their winter break not yet driving them to boredom, lazy days spent reading and playing with new Christmas toys giving them little to complain about. The wife and I quickly decided to take advantage, trying one of the places on our list reserved for these moments when the kids can be trusted. The Queen Vic sprang immediately to mind.

More >>

Photo by Nicholas L. Hall

You can't see it, but it's there.

Man, the lead-up to the holidays has been filled with an odd combination of periods of cooking frenzy, trying to get caught up on some kitchen projects before year's end, and last-minute dinners, wedged into the hustle and bustle of holiday prep. It doesn't help the madness that my extended family has six birthdays and an anniversary in December.

As I'm sure you can imagine, lots of those "last minute" meals have been based more on location than desire. Especially when dining with kids who have been dragged from store to store for a couple of hours, "don't touch anything" admonishments flying, it's sometimes easiest to just go to whatever restaurant happens to be at hand. The other night, that meant Escalante's.

More >>

Photo by Nicholas L. Hall

Moneycat Whole Fried Butterfish: Delicious, but disturbing to young children.

Justin Yu's Moneycat Brunch pops up over at Umai Japanese Restaurant">Umai Japanese Restaurant, every Sunday between 9 and 3, or until food runs out. It's been running for about a month now, and I've been lucky enough to make it for two installments. There's only one more Sunday of Moneycat, so you'd better make a point of it this weekend.

I'd had the previous experience of two insightful and delicious vegetable dinners prepared by Chef Yu to encourage me to attend Moneycat. My kids had not, and I was a little worried about how they would receive brunch fare so far out of their ordinary. Children, especially mine, are at once incredibly flexible and utterly intractable diners, depending on their mood. When it comes to meals centered around breakfast foods, I'm afraid they fall into the intractable rut. Pancakes, eggs, grits, repeat.

I knew a handful of the items destined for the Moneycat menu, as I'd seen posts from a couple of local bloggers, Tastybitz and Phaedra Cook, lucky guests at the first installment. I also knew that the menu could be expected to change from week to week, so surprises were in store. Surprises or not, this would be a bit of a challenge for my kids, who are put off by fish heads and funk. Things easily could have approached DEFCON 1.

More >>

Photo by Nicholas L. Hall

It's like a Paul Simon Song. Kudos if you can figure out this extremely vague reference.

It had been a long time since I'd made the trek out to Tomball. I think the last time I was there was back in the summer, when I spent a couple of days slaving working at Bootsies' Heritage Cafe for Randy Rucker, as a stagiere, just before he closed up shop to prepare for the opening of Restaurant conāt. To be honest, with Bootsie's now under the direction of Rucker's mom, Bootsie Nicol, I probably wouldn't have made the drive out there again, if not for my kids.

I'm not trying to be mean, it's just that driving that far just to eat dinner (or help prepare it, on occasion) doesn't really appeal to me. When Chef Rucker was at the helm, it was different, but so was Bootsie's. As good a burger as it may be, the Mother Rucker just doesn't warrant upward of three hours of my time. As it happened, though, a recent weekend found me traipsing out to 249 for one of my daughter's classmate's birthday parties.

Actually, it had me driving back and forth between Tomball and downtown, chauffeuring my two kids between two different parties. By the time I'd picked the last kid up from the last party (Tomball edition), I had been driving for about three hours, more or less straight. It was close to dinnertime, and neither kid had eaten much aside from cake. Ah, birthdays. I figured that it was as good an opportunity as any to swing by Bootsie's and see how Randy's mom was doing.

While I know Randy reasonably well, having been graciously welcomed into his kitchen to learn and having eaten from that same kitchen on a couple of occasions, I do not know his mother from Adam. I've met her, even sat across the table from her at one of her son's dinners, but she wouldn't be able to pick me out of a lineup. That ought to wrap up the disclosure portion of our program. On to the main event.

More >>

Photo by Nicholas L. Hall

This was exactly as much of a mess as it looks.

DEFCON Dining isn't always about dealing with the kids' tenuous grip on civility. At least not directly. Sometimes, it's just a matter of parental weariness, or adult surliness, and the need to go somewhere the kids won't mind, and where we won't be required to be on our best behavior.

Take, for example, a recent weekend dinner at one of my least favorite restaurants, Cafe Adobe. It was toward the end of a long day that had seen my wife and I arguing about anything and everything, with no real reason in sight. We were testy, tired, and hungry, and the last thing I wanted to do was debate where to go to dinner. I just wanted to get some food and get home, and not worry too much if we weren't the most cordial group in the place.

Ordinarily, my kids' requests for Cafe Adobe are almost instantly squashed. After several carless years of eating there regularly (its status as the sole Tex-Mex joint within walking distance of our first apartment made it an unfortunately easy decision), we typically find the idea wearying at best. This time, I simply turned in my seat, inquiring as to where they wanted to go, willing to accept pretty much any answer.

More >>