At the end of a long, dusty day, as you eye the last glimmers of the sun setting behind the bank-of-whatever building, ear the wistful howls of MoPac, and recall a simpler but distant time with lower property taxes and rent, just remember that its a short drive to the Ranch, a short trip to Redemption.
Sometimes a restaurant is a scene; sometimes a restaurant is a dish; and sometimes a restaurant is a revelation. Intero is a revelation.
Barley Swine's chef and owner, Bryce Gilmore, has been a James Beard finalist half a dozen times, and for good reason: This is world-class locavoring with immense attention to taste, presentation, and delivery.
All I can say is that these biscuits were conjured in heaven and delivered by angels, served steamy. You could spread used motor oil darker than death on these biscuits and still write a letter home to mama about how good they were.
Food is food, but food is about more than food. There's place and presentation, history and memory, time and tradition, people and personality, comfort and novelty, expectation and surprise, bias and preference, foreplay and afterglow... Good eating is a complicated emotional event not wholly contained on the fork, between the chopsticks, or in the injera.
...the Mole Amarillo was above and beyond. Although described in the menu as a "light mole", it was flavorful, nuanced, and surprising.
The first thing to note about Contigo is that it is all outdoor space, about half of it covered. That's right: just like an old-skool Texas prison, there ain't no air conditioning.
There's something civilized about tapas, allowing your meal to develop at your pace as you respond to the latest dish, sip, conversation, or what your neighbors' ordered.
Always sit at the bar, especially the chef's bar, at a restaurant (doubly necessary if you've been 'married' for more than 30 years...).
Pitching themselves as nose to tail and farm to table (and chef owned), there's a lot of pride in the place and the food.