Review: Cry Wolf is Edgy with a Side of Easy Going and We Can't Get Enough | Dallas Observer
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Cry Wolf Trades Chefs Hats for Ball Caps and Dallas Is Better for It

In this month's review, we visit chef Ross Demers at Cry Wolf in East Dallas, which, low key, showcases Dallas' diverse and vibrant culinary scene.
Low-key Ross Demers serves a menu of continually changing high-end dishes in East Dallas.
Low-key Ross Demers serves a menu of continually changing high-end dishes in East Dallas. Kathy Tran
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Cry Wolf is a case study in dichotomy. In a city full of glitzy dining destinations, Cry Wolf earns accolades from a strip mall in gritty East Dallas. There’s a good chance you'll enjoy a dish with foie gras while Led Zeppelin plays in the background. Here, an ever-evolving menu showcases Dallas’ culinary talent with an effortless vibe.
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The best seats in the house may be the last two at the bar, which serves as a chef's table.
Kathy Tran
Approachability is the key to Cry Wolf's charm, so it felt fitting that on the day we met with chef and owner Ross Demers for photos and conversation, he showed up wearing a baseball T-shirt emblazoned with the words LOW KEY on the chest while a Detroit Tigers hat kept his dark locks in check. After years of cooking in many of Dallas’ most notable restaurants, Cry Wolf is Demers’ chance to truly be himself.

“I’ve always played to my own beat and done my own thing. I don’t chase a trend or kiss this person’s ass,” Demers says before breaking into a hearty laugh. “If we’re gonna play Mötley Crüe in here on a Sunday night, then we’re gonna play Mötley Crüe and hair metal. I think people are understanding that.”

Demers’ resume is impressive, including eight months heading the widely acclaimed On The Lamb in 2016. Before opening Cry Wolf, Demers was the executive chef of Flora Street Cafe before it closed in 2020.

"I went to Flora Street knowing I was going to close it,” Demers recalls. “COVID was near when we closed, so I took those two years to get my brain straight after working for other people for so long.”

Demers signed a lease on a long-deserted Subway on Gaston Avenue in 2020, then went to work demolishing the interior and building his vision for Cry Wolf. It’s an intimate space; there's seating for just 20 at the tables against the windows, and another dozen or so bar seats. Book-lined shelves span the windows, and the church pews that make up half the table seating were found on the side of Garland Road by Demers and restored for the space.

As pandemic pressures eventually faded, Cry Wolf opened in November 2021. Popularity and acclaim both quickly followed. Reservations are near-mandatory every night of service.

“I take more shit for people not being able to get in here than anything,” Demers says with more laughter. “I can’t even get my parents in here.”
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Cape Hatteras oysters served with horseradish and mignonette.
Kathy Tran
Cry Wolf’s menu is in constant flux, which allows Demers and his team to play with new ideas and ingredients as they become available. The tightly edited menu doesn’t abide by traditional rules like “appetizers” or “entrees.” On our initial visit, our server explained that the dishes were listed generally smaller to larger, meant to be ordered and shared among the table. Dinner could be just one or two dishes, or a three-course meal; the world’s your oyster.

Speaking of, oysters may be the only thing to expect on the menu with regularity, as Demers is of the mind that starting a meal with oysters is “the epitome of cool.” When the oysters are as fresh and bright as what we sampled recently, it’s tough to disagree. These Cape Hatteras-sourced oysters want for nothing, although Cry Wolf serves up a dozen half-shells with wedges of lemon, piquant horseradish and a bright mignonette. Chef de cuisine Mike Stites shared our love of the oysters, crediting the still-cold waters off the coast of North Carolina this time of year for their exquisite taste.

Most nights, the menu will offer something from the sea, some poultry and perhaps beef or lamb, with maybe a pasta along the way. Scallops, on the menu as a small plate on our first visit ($24), were perfectly cooked and served with foie gras and caviar, a study in contrast of bright and rich flavors. Later, scallops were back on the menu, seared crisp and surrounding a pile of squid ink spaghetti in brown butter ($30).
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Squid ink raviolo with duck confit and a duck yolk.
Kathy Tran
Cry Wolf’s dishes might appear simple and elegant, but the techniques to deliver them are truly masterful. Take the duck confit raviolo we tried just for this story. Stites told us he and one of his sous chefs had pondered the idea while working at Gemma years ago, but the labor that goes into making raviolo was burdensome. Stites and team dabbled with different techniques and came up with a duck farce — a style of dish that uses ground meat — that surrounds a duck egg yolk, all tucked into the pasta with a parsley ricotta filling. Stites presented the idea to Demers and it quickly made its way to the menu.

Cutting into the raviolo causes the deeply golden yolk to spill out while setting every visual synapse in your brain on fire. Each bite pits layers of flavors and textures in competition for your attention, be it the savory duck puree, the delicate pasta or the intensely rich duck yolk tying everything together.

It’s almost a shame to speak of individual dishes at Cry Wolf, knowing that they may not be on the menu for long. But in just over a year, Cry Wolf has built a reputation for intimate and creative meals, and diners have become accustomed to each visit being unique. It's the acme of chef-driven dining, before it became a publicist's buzzword for every new restaurant concept.

“I appreciate the people coming in, but this isn’t the Design District or Greenville Avenue, and I don’t have to serve shit on toast here,” Demers says with yet another bellowing laugh.

“I think the Dallas dining scene knows who we are. The more culinary knowledge that comes to the dining public, they’re more cognizant of what they’re eating, and they’re eating something not just for Instagram moments. They’re here for a good meal.”
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Scallops with caviar.
Kathy Tran
Demers is also quick to point out that he has surrounded himself with staff who share his quest for service and creativity. Tim Case, who worked with Demers at Flora Street, is Cry Wolf’s general manager and sommelier. After watching him in action at Flora Street, Demers knew he wanted Case to work for him.

“Tim is a full-blown sommelier, the general manager, he answers the phones, he’s the host, the maître-d'. He doesn’t forget a face,” Demers beams.

Similarly, Demers asked Stites to be Cry Wolf’s chef de cuisine after Stites left the same role at Carte Blanche last spring. Stites was consulting for a new restaurant concept, so he was hesitant to say yes right away. But he picked up shifts in Cry Wolf's kitchen over the summer, and came to love the idea and the team. He formally accepted the role last August.

“Ross is the first owner and chef I’ve worked for who has taken the handcuffs off me as far as being creative,” says Stites. “There’s a few times where he puts his foot down and says no, but most of the time, I pitch him something, he says let’s move on it, and a day later, it’s on the menu. It’s fun, it’s a challenge, it keeps us on our toes.”

In the time we spoke, Demers is at times insightful and self-deprecating, but unfailingly honest and authentic. He is genuinely astonished by his success and is grateful for the team around him who helps make it happen six nights a week. But the more we speak, the more obvious it becomes that he’s a chef at ease with himself and his talents. And at Cry Wolf, Demers is at his unencumbered best, blending the exquisite with the unpretentious, the edgy with a side of easygoing. It’s a combination we can’t get enough of.

Cry Wolf, 4425 Gaston Ave. Tuesday – Sunday, 5–11 p.m.
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