Kevin "House of Representin'" N.'s Profile

Opening a winery or even a wine-forward store with aspirations for more, can be tricky business: people come into these places with all sorts of pre-conceived ideas, many of which get repeatedly sold into consumers. And you never know what all the drivers are: for all I know, people still aren't drinking Merlot because Paul Giamatti wasn't in Sideways.

Anyhoo, sidebar aside, I definitely appreciate what they're doing and the way that they do it at Times Ten, and frankly I really like the spirit of the businesses in this stretch of Ft. Worth: they're very big on helping one another, and as an example of same, Times Ten worked out an arrangement with Nona Tata where, if you buy a bottle of wine to carry out and are headed to Nona Tata for dinner, they'll call ahead and get you on the list. Given the way that that restaurant fills up, it's beyond neighborly, and made me glad to be spending time with each of them.

The wines are pretty spot on too, from the oft-noted Central Coast varietals in abundant supply to some viticulture friendly whites and reds that originate with vines in Texas' arid west: and if you're of the mind that the only American wines worth tasting come from California or Oregon, you wouldn't be incorrect that those states produce terrific vintages. But you'll likely be surprised by just how good these Tejas wines are.

It can get a little loud in here when big groups descend, and that does happen. But catch them early on a Friday night, when the shadows have begun to dip into the buildings outside, and you just might get a glimpse of an evening full of exquisite beginnings.

Today was my first stop at Yofe Cafe, and they're cranking out the cute in there: it's a yogurt / smoothie / soup / sandwich forward store, featuring clean lines, lots of light through the windowed storefront, and other healthy pursuits. All that cheeriness found me craving a smoothie, so that's what I pounded: a giant blueberry smoothie (The TCU? The Horned Frog?), and it was delicious.

Know if you go that it's a smallish storefront, tucked behind a few trees actually, and I no doubt have passed this exact spot dozens of times already and not been savvy enough to track em down. But I'm glad I did. I haven't sampled the paninis, sandwiches or the turkey chili they were doling out today, but I want to give those a whirl. Maybe this eating healthy thing isn't so hard after all.

I really love conceptually what Embargo's all about: take all of the weathered and character-heavy Cuban cliches (the fifties autos, the cracked frescoes, the ever-present Latin back-beat)...if you close your eyes, you can almost hear the waves breaking. It's also clearly set up to morph into a club (no doubt in the evenings), and to that end it's a very simple arrangement with a warm bar on one end and a sturdy stage at the other. I'm guessing (though I can't confirm for sure) that they move the tables out (or at least around) in the evening to accommodate the dancing and twirling that must happen here. It's a happy room, a room full of suggestions. A mood enhancer.

That said, I stopped in recently for lunch and it's much more of a muted spectacle in that regard: the lunchtime menu is somewhat limited in scope (I've been fortunate enough to stalk some terrific Cuban fare from Miami to NYC and beyond, and though I don't always love when folks use other locales as irrefutable evidence, in this case, having Cuban food in Miami feels pretty authentic).

In general, Cuban menus are often populated with rich, vibrant flavors that taste like salsa music sounds: full of life. On this day, I opted for a trio of different taco selections: they're fairly boutique in size, but the flavor was there, and the diminutive corn tortillas seemed to get the job done. If you go to eat, know that parking is probably a little bit more of a hassle downtown during working hours. And I can't say that it was the most life-affirming meal I've ever had. But it's a lively conversation. And there are worse things than that that could end up on your palate.

Pardon the semi-broken record routine, but if you've ever spent any time going out in a city where there's a non-smoking policy indoors, you'll really come to appreciate it. At least I have, and it's been a bit of an adjustment to coming home smoggy after a night out here. Enter my latest stop off at Malone's Pub, a terrific neighborhood-style bar that has seen the future (so to speak), and pushed ahead with a non-smoking policy in advance of potential changes down the line by the city.

And truth be told, the non-smoking thing wouldn't amount to much if Malone's didn't already have a cool thing going on, which they do. The night I dropped in, the room was teeming with regulars from stem to stern, all seemingly engaged in occasionally uproarious conversation, with bar staff staged as partners in crime. If my visit's any indication, it's a happy place, this Malone's, and not only have they carved out a unique and welcoming spot in the city, but they're planning on being here a good long while yet. And that's a welcome addition any day.

I've been in on a couple of occasions as of this writing and really dig the cut of this joint's jib: when they tell you that it's long been a staple on the local beer hoisting scene, one doesn't really have to make much of a mental leap to understand that - whenever I've stopped by there's been a regular flow of, well, regulars, and a dazzling array of brews at the ready.

Bar service is congenial and seemingly accustomed to the inquisitive chats that come with the territory, and most of these conversations arrive with the expected hoppy incentives: those kind of stories one tells when confronted by good beer, classic rooms, dripping in history. I want to get back and take a shot at the jukebox, which I've not laid bare just yet, but that's coming. Note that it can get a tad smoky, but less than some other local haunts (in my experience, sounds like maybe I caught them on a better set of nights). Be back soon.

They are super sweet and endlessly enthusiastic here, and perhaps Happy Bowl is proof positive that you never know where something interesting and flavorful might lurk: in this case, smack in the middle of a dusty strip mall in White Settlement. At one point, I looked out the window and spied a guy ambling along, pulling on a smoke in a shirt that said "fat people are harder to kidnap." Case in point: they're not too concerned with waxing PC in this part of the world.

At any rate, we camped out about the same time that the after church crowd started rolling in: from the looks of things, Happy Bowl is definitely a restaurant by (and for) families. It's as positive an environment as the name on the front might lead you to believe, and we camped out in front of a plate of Pad See Ew, some Pad Thai and various spring and egg rolls.

Know that they're unafraid of adding a little zest in what they cook here (my dish arrived at a "2" on the 1-5 scale and I was sweating it a little), but they're seemingly as invested in the slow nuance of your dining experience as you are. It's a little off the grid depending on where you are in Funkytown, but when you're craving Thai, worth a stop.

The bonafide original Flying Saucer location, stepping into the belly of the beast gives one at once an appreciation for the fact that they've managed to stay true to the original concept as they've grown. If you've spent any time whatsoever at a Flying Saucer, you know what you're getting into these days: lots of plates on the walls, a metric ton of beer taps on the walls, some choice elements to be had in small, medium and large format bottles in the offing.

I dropped in recently to get a peek at the standard bearer location and one thing I did really appreciate and take away: it's cozy. While the Flying Saucer in Nashville is huge, while the one in Austin is arguably more polished, while the one in Memphis features live music in one of the rooms, this one's snug, built for catching up with good friends or (who knows) perhaps making new ones altogether. For my part I dipped into a German brew or two, nothing I'd never seen before but welcome going down nevertheless. Sometimes, it's easy to see why good ideas proliferate. Sometimes, it's because those ideas are built on foundations of gold (plates).

Parking can be a bit of an issue.

Dino's knows exactly who it is, and there's something about that clarity of vision that is innately appealing: ambient lighting, some piano sprinkled into the background for good measure, some muted but entertaining conversation. Shake well and pour over ice. Such is the recipe for a happy evening, and I was fortunate enough to enjoy just that on a recent aside.

As the name might imply, Dino's is first and foremost a steak and crab-forward establishment, though it just so happened that we'd come from dinner nearby and instead opted for libations and some just dessert. Dessert, as it were, was heavily predicated on chocolate, and on this night, that, paired with a vintage (or in my case, a Duvel) proved a worthy antidote to lethargy. Looking forward to heading back for dinner sometime soon.

First of all, it's quite striking in here: let's just get that part out of the way. T&P Tavern transports you (pun intended) to days gone by. It's not a stretch to say that one might imagine long awaited loved ones stepping off a passenger train and into this place. It's got great bones.

The elevated ceilings and delicate lighting help aesthetically, and though the soundtrack isn't as, say, "1940s" as its immediate surroundings, they seemed to be spinning lots of tracks off of a live McCartney concert when we popped in, which contributed to the fun. They also let me in on a little secret: though they recently celebrated their first anniversary, T&P hasn't rolled out their entire menu yet. That's coming. For my part, I parked it in front of three BBQ chopped beef sliders that arrived with a lurking kick.

Even so, the real star here is the beer. The walls are adorned with many a favorite, and if you're wondering what makes your face sweat less when staring down the business end of a semi-spicy BBQ sandwich, that would be the Left Hand Milk Stout.

There's a covered patio / landing area out back, and it sounds like the service industry has caught on here. Follow that crowd, they know of what they speak.

As of this writing, these guys average about a three star rollup, and that's probably about right by my estimation: it's a fairly spartan Mexican and Tex Mex grill, and know this - they're undeniably happy here, and only too glad to make new pals. Stopped in recently after a saunter around the Stockyards, ready for something cold and something sizzling. Habanero's, fortunately, had both.

The cantina opens up as you enter to your immediate left and lets in lots of natural light, but we camped out in the main restaurant area for a couple of giant schooners (those round thick glass goblets often served at the temperature of the Arctic shelf) filled with beer and a margarita, respectively.

In the end, there were fajitas and puffy tacos and regular but never omnipresent wait staff - the smiles are sincere here, or seemed so, and that would be one reason I'd definitely stop in again.  If you're in the Stockyards and up for wrangling some Mexican food, Habanero's awaits.