Then there are the pair of high-temperature live music slots attached to semi-upscale diners: Dragonfly with its odd species of eclectic New American fare; and The Palace/Moonshine Cafe with its bright "New Creole" cuisine.
Opened by the M Crowd restaurant group, The Mercury, a polished see-and-be-seen gallery with a New American menu, is currently among the most feverish draws in Dallas. Along with Mainstream founder Kelly Haden, the group also opened two more Mainstream Fish Houses in addtion to the original at Preston Forest, on Oak Lawn Avenue and in Sundance Square in Fort Worth. The Oak Lawn version went belly-up after just a couple of months and will reopen next year with a new M Crowd concept.
Whining
Perhaps the most notable restaurant opening this year was Bistro A, the Snider Plaza spot with a Mediterranean menu incorporating Middle Eastern and North African spices. Developed by bad boy vagabond chef Avner Samuel, his wife, Celeste, and restaurant consultant Matthew Feldman, Bistro A opened to immediate and sustained crowds and acclaim. Yet there are inklings all the fuss might be bloating the operators' heads. I've recently received numerous reports of shabby service, sub-par food, and an unwillingness to satisfactorily reconcile with unhappy customers. It would be sad indeed if this fine restaurant sunk in a drunken stupor of arrogance.
While we're on the subject, I've faced hoots of derision after my mostly positive review of III Forks. Virtually everyone I have had contact with concerning the place vows never to return. Horror stories abound: haphazard food quality; rude, unprofessional service; and an absolute unwillingness to take care of miffed customers (there's a reason a policeman is posted by the door). Since the place opened, Dale Wamstad's "proprietors," chef Matthew Antonovich and manager Jonna Fitzgerald, have departed.
But among the most consistent whines coming my way concern wine, specifically prices, a dynamic that has become even more striking this year with the proliferation of richly expansive lists. Why is it that Dallas wine list prices are commonly jacked up three, even four times? Sure, Texas restaurants must pay a monthly 14 percent state tax on alcoholic beverage sales. But as one reader points out, it's uncommon to find markups exceeding 2.5 times on wine lists in California, a state with significantly higher overall operational costs than Texas.
"The public is just too aware of what wine costs," says Anita Motard, director of on-premise sales at Glazer's Distributors, a wine and liquor wholesaler. "If the wines were marked up a little bit less, I think they would sell additional glasses and additional bottles." (An argument, perhaps, for sipping wine at the newly revamped Marty's Winebar where prices are so sane, it's crazy.)
It's something to keep in mind, for this atmosphere of exciting indulgence won't last forever. A time will come when the high check averages sink, the cigar tips cool, the cork pops grow silent, and the steers are used to feed burger chains, instead of Martini-slurping stogie puffers.
