The city has mass-mailed names and numbers, which could be the first sign it’s no longer phoning it in Sitting next to me is a 12-page copy of the names and phone numbers of the hundreds of employees in the city’s code enforcement department. And as much as I would like to count this as some sort of journalistic coup, engineered with late-night phone calls and clandestine meetings in the City Hall parking garage, the truth is less glamorous — but a whole lot more intriguing. The city mailed the list to me, just like it did to neighborhood groups, reporters and a bunch of other interested parties. This is nothing short of remarkable, given not just the us-against-them mentality that exists in code compliance (one of the nastiest letters I’ve ever received was from an ex-employee who told me that residents had no idea how little we knew about what they do), but the troubled state of the department. It’s under-funded, with more than 100 vacant spaces on the list I received; it’s overstretched, with duties ranging from junked cars to watering violations to stray animals; and in the past couple of years it has endured a corruption scandal and political shenanigans, like the mayor’s much touted and quickly forgotten program to inspect every apartment complex in the city. Its director, Kathy Davis, has been called names that make even a cranky ex-newspaperman like me take notice. Yet, right now, if I want, I can call Barbara Cabler, who oversees my neighborhood, and tell her that the apartment complex across the street looks like it’s violating a bunch of city codes. So what’s going on here? Some of it, obviously, is for show. A friend of mine, another cranky ex-newspaperman, said we should start a pool to see how many of the names and numbers on the list actually exist. And, given that appearance means so much more than substance these days, whether in government or business, calling Cabler would probably get me nothing more than a voicemail promising to return my call. Yet there might be something more going on here, difficult as that is to believe and given how the city staff and council often seem to be in a different universe than the people who pay their salaries. I don’t want to be accused of being an optimist, but releasing the code compliance phone list is just the sort of good faith gesture that has been lacking in the past. It’s an acknowledgement that we’re all in this together, which has rarely been the approach most city departments use in dealing with the public. Yes, there is much of the usual foolishness still going on, from throwing money at real estate developers to curry political favor to playing games with the police department to the upcoming bond election, in which the council and staff will ask us for money to build facilities that they won’t bother to fund afterwards. But I can’t shake the feeling that, with elections coming up in the fall and next spring, it might not be business as usual. The staff and council might actually be willing to pay attention to us, if their mutterings and grumblings about improving the quality of life in the next budget mean anything. One key: What happens with something called Forward Dallas, the city’s first-ever comprehensive plan for growth and development. It has apparently run into substantial neighborhood opposition for the usual sorts of reasons, including a heavy-handed city staff. If the council sides with voters instead of the staff, then they realize we’re serious about we want from the city. And if they do pay attention to us, it’s because we made them. We told them we were tired of their approach to city government, and some of us — and I know I never thought I’d see this — even told them we’d be willing to pay more taxes to do just that. We understand the value of libraries and streets without potholes and improved police response times, even if no one on the council thinks we do. Which means someone might just return my phone call after all.

Once again, it’s time to plead the case for zinfandel — not the sweetish pink stuff called white zinfandel — but the red wine made with the zinfandel grape. It’s made almost exclusively in California, and it’s made as well there as the French make Burgundy and the people in Napa make cabernet sauvignon. Red zins sometimes get a bad rap, in part because of the confusion with white zinfandel and in part because of wine snobbery, which says only classic French varietals make great wine. But — and I’ll go to my grave insisting on this — zinfandel is the classic American wine, our version of Australian shiraz. There are quality producers at every price, it’s tremendously food friendly (everything from barbecues to smelly cheese, and even white meat dishes like roast chicken), and it tastes good, if a bit manly. Zinfandel has a lot of mostly dark berry fruit, some spiciness, and even a touch of brambliness, which is kind of like a blackberry before you sweeten it in a cobbler. So the next time you’re thinking merlot or shiraz, think zinfandel instead: • Jewel Collection Old Vine Zinfandel 2003 ($10). Jewel is putting together a nice line of $10 wines, and this is one reason why. Typical zinfandel flavors and deep color, but a little less heavy than many of its cousins. • Rosenblum San Francisco Bay Zinfandel 2004 ($17). Rosenblum and Ridge are probably the two best zinfandel producers, and this is a classic example. Dark fruit aromas, solid fruit throughout, and a little chocolate in the finish. • Ridge Three Valleys 2003 ($20). This is a steal, even at $20. It’s mostly zinfandel from Sonoma, and if it were cabernet at this price, the wine magazines would be slobbering all over themselves. Since they aren’t, you can enjoy it.

Three generations will soon watch their 18 th member graduate from Woodrow When Woodrow Wilson senior Merritt Shaw attends her graduation ceremony this month, hers will be just one in a sea of capped heads. But there’s something a little more poignant about Merritt’s graduation from Woodrow: She is the 18 th member of her family to walk up to receive her diploma from the school. In the Shaw family, uncles, aunts, cousins, grandparents, parents, sisters and brothers have all chosen one academic destination — Woodrow. “That’s where everybody went in the neighborhood. You couldn’t wait to get to Woodrow,” says Sally, Merritt’s mother. Her daughter shares her affections for the school and feels honored to be part of such a legacy. “It means a lot to me. My whole family has graduated from Woodrow,” Merritt says. Funneling that many family members through one school has resulted in some hilarious moments. When Sally was set up on a blind date with Craig Shaw, who’s now her husband, she had never even heard his name. But her mother almost fainted when she answered the door — she recognized Craig because she had dated his father during her own high school days. “It’s almost incestuous,” Sally jokes. “Our families had known each other very well.” Three generations of Woodrow grads have allowed the Shaws to watch the school evolve over the years. The number of students at the school has increased, of course, since Elaine Northrup Loyd, Merritt’s grandmother, attended Woodrow. And in her day, all extracurricular activities were held at the school. “We had our Friday dances and social activities during the week at the gym,” Elaine says. Other altered traditions have been harder for the Shaws to adjust to, such as modifications to the drill team uniform. “They’re trying to make [the uniform] more modern, changing everything they have been doing all these years,” says Emily, Merritt’s sister. “Merritt and I were upset about that. Our mom was there. This is how it’s always been.” But no matter how the Shaws feel about the changes, they wouldn’t trade their days at Woodrow. And at times, their memories spark emotions. Sally remembers attending Elaine’s 75 th reunion and experiencing a sense of déjà vu. “I thought, ‘My mom and I are going to the same reunion,’ ” Sally says. “It was very touching to envision her and dad walking down the hall, and me, my children, all sitting probably in the same old chairs, same old classrooms.” Sally believes Merritt will be the last of the Shaws to attend Woodrow because her children will probably settle outside of Dallas. But those who were once Woodrow Wildcats will always share a unique bond. “It’s a special school to have gone to,” Elaine says. “All in our family have that value that we all know what each other is talking about. It’s a norm in our family.”

Kids are cooking up gourmet treats in this neighbor’s kitchen Interested in weekly summer sessions like “I Can Cook Dinner” and “Chocolate Delight”? Contact Susan Hamm at 214-826-2002. Cooking is not just for grown-ups, insists M Streets resident Susan Hamm. And she reinforces this belief every summer by turning children into chefs during her home cooking camps. “I just want them to know that they can make something, and they can have fun with it,” Hamm says. “The most important rule is to have fun.” The camps for 6- to 12-year-olds teach both cooking and craft skills. Every child decorates an apron, and throughout the session, they make their own cookbooks with recipes such as cheesy spaghetti and pigs in a blanket. Hamm chooses the recipes according to the children’s tastes. “I pay attention to what the kids like and don’t like,” she says. Every week, the team of aspiring cooks is divided into head chefs, recipe readers and cleaners. (Most of them want to be head chefs, Hamm says.) But before any of the little chefs can get their hands on the ingredients, Hamm chirps her most essential instruction. “What’s the number one rule?” she asks the group. “Oh yeah, wash your hands,” the kids remind themselves. It’s a must for kids whose task each day is to get down and dirty by actually cooking — none of this Easy-Bake Oven nonsense. “We make real dough; we roll it, and let it rise,” Hamm says. “We may do it in a more elaborate way.” This type of hands-on experience could easily create chaos in her kitchen, but Hamm says she prevents this by limiting her camps to seven children, which usually results in only “normal kitchen mess.” She decided to launch the cooking camps after her sister-in-law asked her to give cooking lessons to her 9-year-old niece. Hamm’s first camp was called “Gourmet Girls,” but several boys joined the session, too. So after the first year, Hamm expanded the camp, calling it “Gourmet Girls and Guys.” She specifically remembers an 11-year-old boy from the first year who, after only one hour of camp, said, “This is the most fun I’ve had all summer.” And she especially enjoys watching the children interact. “We get some who can’t read and so the others help them,” Hamm says. “I like having different ages because they can help each other.” At the end of the day, Hamm’s chefs eagerly embrace the best part of cooking — eating their creations. While some share, others “have to have it all,” she says. And Hamm has no doubt about these little chefs’ favorite kitchen activities: “cracking eggs and smelling vanilla.”

Stonewall Jackson students make a ‘positive memory’ with their first music video For more information: empoweryourfuture.org More than 30 Stonewall Jackson fifth- and sixth-graders were packed like sardines into a small room with no air-conditioning, wiping sweat from their foreheads and fanning themselves furiously. And they were having the time of their lives. The room was an audio suite at Post Asylum, a post-production company in our neighborhood where the students were recording a music video. The finished product will be burned onto DVDs for each of them, a “positive memory” they can take with them through middle school and high school, says Dallas Police Officer Joe Chatham. The students at each of the Dallas ISD schools Chatham frequents know him simply as “Officer Joe.” Through his Empower Your Future program, the M Streets resident and motorcycle cop motivates students to endure, persevere and educate themselves so they won’t be limited in life. Chatham takes this message to the schools flanked by off-road motorcycles the children can ride, which definitely gets their attention. And he’s not a motivational speaker who never shows his face again — he and his wife, Suzanne, spend time at the schools on a regular basis. It’s important for the students to know he’s there for them, Chatham says, especially for students who are victims of abuse and neglect. “My first question to the kids is always, ‘Why are we here?’ ” he says. His son Nick, a sixth-grader at Stonewall, knows the answer: “Because you care about us.” During the recording session, Chatham was just as excited as the children, coaching them with “Sing from your hearts” and “Give it to me good!” Nancy Breaux, a senior producer at Post Asylum, smiled as she watched her longtime friend perform his true calling. Some programs teach children only to say no, Breaux says, but Chatham teaches them to reach for their dreams. “I just believe in what he’s trying to do for these kids,” Breaux says. Just before the recording began, she asked the students, “Who’s your favorite artist?” “50 Cent,” one boy blurted out. “This is the same exact way he records his music,” Breaux told them. Stonewall music director Curtis Butler was excited for the children to see this aspect of the industry. “They all love music. They all have it. But they have no idea what it takes to produce it,” Butler says. “This gives them an inside look on something they take for granted.” And the words of the Third Day song the students recorded — “We’ve got to come together/ ’Cause in the end we can make it all right/We’ve got to learn to love” — mean everything, Chatham says. Sixth grader Damian Garcia explains his take on it: “Everybody doesn’t need to hate each other. We need to all get along.”

This venerated, uniquely Lone Star cuisine can make a man wax poetic When I arrived in Dallas 22 years ago, one of the first things I was told to do was to go downtown to El Taxco for dinner. When an old colleague of mine, who has moved around the country to follow newspaper jobs, returns home, he makes it a point to eat at Matt’s Rancho Martinez in Lakewood. And when a friend of mine wants to wax nostalgic, he always mentions the 99-cent El Chico enchilada dinner of his youth. At times, when it seems the only tradition in Dallas is change, there is one constant, one fiddler on our roof — the Tex-Mex restaurant. It might be the late, lamented but still not forgotten El Taxco, which stood on the corner of McKinney and St. Paul for some 40 years. It might be the El Chico and El Fenix chains, which both started here and which have been dueling for customers for more than 60 years. And it might be the neighborhood restaurant such as Matt’s. Tex-Mex refuses to go away — despite changing diets, population and demographic shifts, and all of the assorted ailments that plague the Mom and Pop restaurateur. In fact, talk to chefs, food critics, and people who are supposed to know about these things, and they’ll tell you that Tex-Mex is not authentic, that it has gobs too much cheese and sour cream, and that it’s a bastardization of what Mexican and Southwestern food should be. But a fiddler on the roof doesn’t make any sense, either. A fellow I know, who has lived here all his life and had some of those 99-cent dinners when the Inwood Village Cantina Laredo was an El Chico in the 1950s, doesn’t understand the fuss. If you stop to think about it, he says, Tex-Mex is Dallas’ native cuisine. It may have been invented here (by whom depends on who tells the story, though most of the evidence suggests the Cuellar family, which founded El Chico, and the Martinez family, which started and stills run El Fenix, played key roles), and there really isn’t anything else like it anywhere else in the country. So if we don’t appreciate it, who will? The first question everyone asks, of course, is what makes Tex-Mex Tex-Mex. One of the most eloquent answers comes from cookbook author Linda West Eckhardt, who notes “trying to define Tex-Mex is something like trying to define love. It’s hard to say what is I, but you sure know it when you see it.” The more sensible explanation is that it’s Mexican food that has been adapted to Texas sensibilities and ingredients over the past 100 years. Or so says Victor Gielisse, who owned Actuelle, a very chic restaurant in town during the Reagan and elder Bush years. Today, Gielisse works for the Culinary Institute of America, and has very definite ideas about Tex-Mex and how it got to be what it is (and he’s not a big fan of all that cheese). Tex-Mex, says Gielisse, shares much in common with Italian-American cooking. The Italian immigrants who brought their recipes with them couldn’t find the same ingredients here that they used in Tuscany, Piedmont or Sicily, so they had to make do. Hence, spaghetti with meatballs, which is probably more American than Italian. As Mexican food moved north from Mexico, Gielisse says, not only did ingredients change — did anyone here know what a jicama or tomatillo was before the Southwestern food craze of the mid-1980s? — but so did the palates of the people eating the food. Consider that tacos with potatoes and chorizo are a staple in the Valley, but have never made much of an impression up here. Or that our quesadillas bear little resemblance to the quesadillas described in Elizabeth Lambert Ortiz’s authoritative “The New Complete Book of Mexican Cooking,” which use a dough made with eggs and masa harina, and are flavored with dried chilés or even beef marrow. Traditional Mexican cooking is full of stews and molés, with ingredients such as pumpkin and sesame seeds, chipotle chilés, Mexican-style chocolate and stale tortillas. Would this have appealed to Anglo restaurant-goers as Tex-Mex took hold here in the couple of decades after World War II? Says Gielisse: “The El Chicos and the El Fenixes had to sell what they thought people would eat. It’s a fact of life: We always Westernize our food.” Though not necessarily authentic, we have made Tex-Mex our own. According to the Yellow Pages, there are as many as 400 Mexican restaurants in Dallas, compared to 200 pizza places. And consider that a typical El Chico, according to figures from Hoover’s Online, probably does $2 to $3 million a year in sales, especially impressive given that the menu is mostly less than $10. Dean Fearing sells tortilla soup at the ritzy Mansion on Turtle Creek, and Ciudad, the Oak Lawn restaurant that specializes in Mexico City cuisine, serves chips and salsa. Almost everyone knows the standard Tex-Mex menu by heart: Nachos and quesadillas, cheese enchiladas with chili gravy, beef tacos, tamales, chicken enchiladas with sour cream. There might be some variation from restaurant to restaurant, a taco salad here or a flauta there, and the combination plates might go by different names (though not always), but once you’ve seen one Tex-Mex lineup, you’ve seen them all. Which is not necessarily a bad thing. The problem, as with most problems in the restaurant business, comes in execution. And this, according to a thoroughly unscientific survey I took in conjunction with this article, isn’t much of a problem. There may be some Tex-Mex restaurants in town that aren’t good, but there aren’t many that are awful, and even most of the chains are perfectly acceptable. We know Tex-Mex, and the awful ones close. And there are quite a few that are very, very good (especially when you consider that two people can eat dinner, with a couple of beers each, for less than $40 at many of them). Plus, given how many Chinese buffets and chrome and plastic corporate eateries keep popping up, despite their wretchedness, the fact that you can walk into almost any Tex-Mex joint and leave after a more than satisfactory meal is almost too good to be true. So what defines a good Tex-Mex restaurant? • It’s a family business, even for many of the chains. Because when the boss’ name is on the front door, someone usually takes responsibility. Owners tell me that one of the worst things customers can tell them is: “This never would have happened if your daddy was still here.” • It’s a place for families. They’re always there, parents and children and grandchildren, often at noon on Sunday, sitting at long tables with blue-haired grandmas next to teenagers with bare midriffs and a baby or two gurgling on a parent’s lap. • It’s in the neighborhood. This is more than not having to drive very far. It’s the atmosphere that the restaurant has, a reflection of the people who eat there. How else to explain why the Mi Cocina in Lake Highlands is decidedly different from the Mi Cocina in Far North Dallas on the Dallas Tollway? The menu is the same. The food is the same. But the neighborhoods aren’t. • It’s a tradition. These places stay in business for decades, somehow beating the statistics that say 70 percent of all restaurants close in five years. This means that the 5-year-old Don Pepe’s Rancho at Coit and Arapaho can shoot for Mario and Alberto, which has been at Preston and LBJ for more than 20 years. And they can both shoot for El Fenix, which has existed in one form or another since 1918. • It’s the chips and salsa. Gene Street, whose company bought El Chico from a company controlled by the Cuellars in 1998, once told me that in a perfect world, no one would get free chips and salsa. It’s just too expensive. So even Gene Street, who knows the restaurant business as well as anyone, can be wrong. Tex-Mex without chips and salsa — and especially when the salsa is more than canned tomatoes — is unthinkable. So what’s next? Will Tex-Mex survive into the 21 st century, in an era when restaurants are becoming more authentic, as well as more expensive? Even around here, there are signs that something is changing. Prices for basic platters are starting to creep up to the $10 level, which seems like a lot to pay for enchiladas, rice and beans. Case in point: El Chico converted most of its Dallas locations into the more upscale Cantina Laredo to take advantage of that trend. Then there is the influx of chi-chi concepts such as Tin Star and Taco Diner, with their portabella mushroom tacos and Mexican-Parisian cobb salads. Still, I wouldn’t bet against the durability of Tex-Mex. Rick Bayless, whose Chicago restaurants are at the forefront of popularizing authentic regional Mexican cuisine, grew up in Oklahoma City. At last count, there are four El Chicos in Oklahoma City. If that’s not a sign from the food gods, I don’t know what is. Nacho Average Tex-Mex A rundown of the neighborhood’s leading Tex-Mex joints — both chain and independent — and what makes them unique: The Independents: Matt’s Rancho Martinez 214-823-5517, 6332 La Vista What it is: Sometimes the kitchen is frustratingly slow and the waiters would rather watch the TV over the bar, but this is Tex-Mex the way it should be. And why not? The family has been doing it for three generations. What you may not know: The lunch menu is available all day on Tuesday. What to order: It’s supposed to be the Bob Armstrong dip, named after an Austin politician, but how can anyone pass up the chicken-fried steak cowboy style, covered with chili and cheese? La Parrillada 214-327-5513, 7260 Gaston What it is: One of the least known quality Tex-Mex places in the city. That’s because it’s a neighborhood joint whose neighborhood doesn’t extend much past Abrams on the west and Garland on the east. What you may not know: Live Latin jazz every Friday and Saturday night. What to order: The La Parrillada — fajitas taken to another level, which includes the usual beef and chicken plus ribs, pork, and roasted salsa. Tarascos Nuevo Leon 214-887-8148, 2013 Greenville What it is: A critic’s darling that is surprisingly inconsistent (and probably more Mex-Mex than Tex-Mex). But it is one of the few places in town that serves a respectable mole, and that’s saying something. What you may not know: This location is not owned by the same family that owns the original in Farmers Branch (which explains the Tarascos). What to order: Molé verdé , of course, chicken and squash in poblano pepper sauce The Chains: El Fenix 214-327-6173, Casa Linda Plaza What it is: The Martinez family started serving Mexican food to Anglos in 1918, when that was a novel concept. They’re still doing it, and if some of the locations are a little frayed around the edges, that’s part of the charm. What you may not know: El Chico’s owners were going to buy El Fenix in 1998, but the deal fell through over real estate concerns. What to get: The Martinez family says they invented the cheese enchilada with chili, and they still do a $4.99 Wednesday night special with two enchiladas, rice, beans, chips and salsa. Cantina Laredo 214-821-5785, 2031 Abrams What it is: What it isn’t is El Chico, but a more upscale version to take advantage of the wealthier demographics in its old neighborhoods (there’s even fish on the menu). Some customers have adjusted to the change, and others have gone elsewhere. What you may not know: The chairman of Consolidated Restaurant Operations, which owns Cantina Laredo, is Gene Street of Dixie House/Black-eyed Pea fame. What to get: Tacos al pastor — corn tortillas filled roast pork marinated in cascabel chilés, available as an entrée or as part of the appetizer platter. Gloria’s 214-874-0088, 3715 Greenville What it is: Technically, Gloria’s is a Salvadoran restaurant. But as owner Jose Fuentes has always said, if you don’t have Tex-Mex on the menu, you’re not going to make it in Dallas, so you’ll find fajitas, enchiladas and the like. What you may not know: Fuentes and wife Gloria immigrated to Houston to open a car repair shop. What to get: The Gloria’s plate — a tamal (a tamale wrapped in a banana leaf instead of a corn husk), a papusa (a Salvadoran quesadilla), yucca, fried plaintain, rice and black beans. In Memoriam: May the Enchiladas Rest In Peace Sadly, nothing lasts forever, and that includes great Tex-Mex restaurants. They close for any number of reasons — deaths in the family, changing consumer tastes, even because of real estate prices. These were some of the most memorable in town in their time. • El Taxco. Though it has been closed for almost 20 years, the downtown restaurant still has a fanatical customer base, and they get almost poetic about eating there. Ask someone about the enchilada hash. • Tupinamba. This Dallas icon, run by the Dominguez family on Fort Worth Avenue and on Lovers Lane, had its heyday in the 1960s and is almost as revered as El Taxco. An offshoot survives today on Inwood Road at Forest. • Guadalajara. First on Ross near downtown and later on Ross between Peak and Haskell, it attracted hipsters, politicians and the first wave of people moving back into East Dallas in the late 1980s and early 1990s. Plus, the food was really cheap, and it stayed open really late. • Raphael’s. During its peak in the late 1970s, customers waited an hour to eat dinner on a weekend night, and the patio was a happening place. Today, the restaurant is not only gone, but so is its location at McKinney and Lemmon, which is part of the West Village. • El Chico. As late as the early 1980s, everyone who didn’t eat at El Fenix ate at El Chico. So why is there just one El Chico left in Dallas today? The company changed hands a couple of times, which hampered growth, and its current owners converted most of the remaining locations to the more upscale Cantina Laredo. Best bet for an old-fashioned El Chico experience: Coit and Spring Valley. • Pancho’s Mexican Buffet. OK, so the food wasn’t as good as El Taxco. But how many of us haven’t raised the flag to get more iced tea or another sopapilla? Today, the chain has just two locations in Dallas, although there are almost 40 throughout the Southwest. Ironically, you can still raise the flag a couple of blocks north of the last Dallas El Chico, on the Richardson side of Coit.

05.2006 Archives - Lakewood/East Dallas

Can You Hear Us Now?

By Jeff Siegel|2011-03-10T15:29:46-06:00May 1st, 2006|News|

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Taste: Ozona Grill and Bar

By Keri Mitchell|2011-03-10T15:28:16-06:00May 1st, 2006|News|

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What About Wine?

By Jeff Siegel|2011-03-10T15:26:17-06:00May 1st, 2006|News|

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A Family’s Legacy

By Advocate Staff|2011-03-10T15:21:33-06:00May 1st, 2006|News|

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Heritage Trumps Harmony

By Advocate Staff|2011-03-10T15:19:33-06:00May 1st, 2006|News|

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Little Chefs

By Advocate Staff|2011-03-10T15:17:06-06:00May 1st, 2006|News|

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Philip Rubinov-Jacobson Q&A

By Keri Mitchell|2011-03-10T15:09:39-06:00May 1st, 2006|News|

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Much Ado About Matthew

By Advocate Staff|2011-03-10T15:07:03-06:00May 1st, 2006|News|

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Remembering Gustavo Ipiña

By Keri Mitchell|2011-05-18T16:24:30-05:00May 1st, 2006|News|

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Recording Debut

By Keri Mitchell|2011-03-10T14:59:26-06:00May 1st, 2006|News|

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Tex-Mex Heaven

By Jeff Siegel|2011-03-10T14:57:38-06:00May 1st, 2006|News|

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eBidding for Benevolence

By Keri Mitchell|2011-03-10T14:55:17-06:00May 1st, 2006|News|

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