As usual, we ate out on Friday. We went to Abuleos. This is a Mexican restaurant and you can tell that it would very much like for you to think that it’s the classiest place in town. It’s not, of course, but it was pretty good for Pricey Americanized Mexican (and we’ve had some really bad stuff in this category). It was one of our anniversaries and we’d been saving this place for a special occasion (we’re also learning Spanish now so we figured it was about time we went). I wasn’t too impressed with the food, but then I’m a tough customer what with all the cooking and the eating and everything. The décor was almost identical to a few other Pricey Americanized Mexican joints we’ve been to where the tables and chairs are all on the outside of a stucco-columned indoor courtyard. The difference was that here the mural on the wall and the faux-old-timey portraits on the wall and the big brown plastirock statue in the middle of everything were all of old men (Abuleo is Spanish for Grandfather) and some of the old men seemed to be busily leading young boys into the warm embrace of manhood. It took me a while to realize that the portrait in the bar area wasn’t another creepy grandfather: it was the Dos Equiis guy. Our waiter was a kid who seemed to be very upset that his parents had made him go out and get a stupid summer job. He kept coming around overly conscious of how he could work us toward a big tip that would get him closer to that new xbox game he desperately wanted. I grouched at him once and he pouted away and left us alone until the end of the meal when he again came on too strong as he worked us for the tip. We couldn’t find much on the menu for vegetarians, so Suzanne ended up with the fish tacos. Her platter included pinto beans with bacon. I got a bean tostada and chili relleno platter that had refried beans and spicy mashed potatoes. These potatoes were the best part of the meal—but I’m pretty sure they were laced with bacon grease. If I had to reproduce them, I imagine that the recipe would go something like this: cook a bit of jalapeno and red bell pepper in bacon grease, stir into mashed potatoes, add a big handful of cheese. This was good enough, but of course I think I can do better and I’ll be trying a bacon-free version of these sometime. We also got a dip sampler appetizer and this came with three dips (but no extra chips until I informed our waiter kid that maybe he ought to bring us some): a standard restaurant queso dip, an avocado dip that seemed to be an equal mix of guacamole and sour cream (this was all blended into one green mass that was pretty tasty) and a third dip that we called dead-cow-in-cheese. While we are officially “flexitarians” and aren’t going to go too mad at the occasional bit of cow, this dip had a very “dead” quality to it and it left a really bad taste in our mouths. These dips are probably a way for the restaurant to “repurpose” some of the leftovers from the previous day. It worked well with leftover guacamole but it might have been two or three days on whatever had gone into the cow dip. We didn’t eat very much of it. I don’t really recommend this restaurant (my highest compliment was: “at least they used real cheese”). However, it was kinda fun for our anniversary and we did manage to get that “special occasion feel” out of it.
Showing posts with label Wichita. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Wichita. Show all posts
Review: Abuelo's Restuarant (Stand Alone Review)
I've published this same review below in my first post, but I'm reproducing it so it can stand alone.
Noodles and Company
6-17-11
This week, we went to Noodles on Rock Road in Wichita. This is a new restaurant in town, but it isn’t a new restaurant for us: it’s a chain, a franchise. We’ve been to the one in downtown Portland, so we were experienced enough to breeze through the line (the people in front of us were in awe of the menu and let us go ahead as they stared and pondered and drooled so much that they became embarrassed that they were holding up the line; I made a point as I accepted their offer of cutting in line to smugly tell them that we had been to the Noodles in Portland).
The place was hoppin. Lots of different types of people had come to slurp up the noodles. It seemed to be quite the trendy thing to do. I understood as I looked around at all the diners that this restaurant chain was pretty successful at appealing to everybody. We ate in the same room with hipster 20 somethings, jocks fresh from some sweaty ball game, families with tots in tow, and a bunch of businessmen in shirtsleeves. The concept is this: you can get basically any noodle dish you want from a selection of the world’s great noodle dishes. If you want Spaghetti and Meatballs, they’ve got it. If you want a Pesto Cavatappi topped with a chicken breast, they’ve got that. If your kid wants Mac and Cheese piled with extra cheese, they’ve got that, too. They let you select the type of “protein” you want and almost everything comes first as a vegetarian dish that you have to pay extra to turn into a meat-laden perversion. I had Pad Thai with Tofu (you can get tofu as one of the “proteins”) and Suzanne had Penne with Sun-Dried Tomatoes in Cream Sauce (with no additional protein). She also got a Spinach Salad with Strawberries and Walnuts and Feta topped with a Balsamic Vinaigrette. These are pretty fancy dishes for Wichita—and getting them at the same place was fun. And even though it was cheap, it didn’t seem like fast food. The meal had that “real food” quality to it that you don’t usually get at a fast-food joint. All-in-all, we were satisfied and impressed. It’s not fancy (aside from the trendy-fast-food thing that’s the same basic vibe that makes a Chipotle seem like a swingin scene), but it’s tasty and cool. We had fun and felt like we’d eaten well. My only complaint was that the tofu wasn’t as good as it was in Portland. You could tell that the guy in the kitchen didn’t really know his way around a block of bean curd. The stuff I had in Portland was REALLY good. Memorable, even. Whoever the cook in Portland was, he or she knew what to do with tofu, knew what tofu was, knew what tofu should be. The Noodles in Portland was downtown, in the heart of the action, next to a Sushi joint that was too expensive for us to eat at. The Noodles in Wichita is next door to Herb Snow and Son’s Maytag Dealership. Few cooks around here really grok tofu. Oh well. It’s a small complaint.
Later, for our dinner at home, I made Swiss Cheese and Roasted Red-Pepper Quesadillas.
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