I must admit, I like Barnaby's bustling second home on Shepherd. I was afraid I wouldn't. Like so many Montrose denizens, I'd become accustomed to the cramped, slightly scruffy original on Fairview; over the years, I'd grown fond of the rickety stairs, scuffed entryway and water-spotted ceiling. I was even resigned to parking blocks away.
Amy Spangler
The meat loaf departs from
the traditional comfort food format.
Details
(713)520-5131 and (713)522-0106.
1701 South Shepherd and 604 Fairview.
Related Content
More About
So when the second store opened last fall, I was worried. Could Barnaby's Cafemuster the same raffish charm, I wondered, in the much spiffier, brick-trimmed environs of Cafe Take Away's former haunt? Sure, there are freshly lacquered doggie biscuits on the Shepherd store's walls, and Barnaby-in-heaven murals painted in the window arches. But, ooh, now there's an outdoor patio, equipped this time of year with the latest in space-heating technology: tall brassy heaters on stalks that look just like overgrown carriage lamps. (Bet those cost a bundle, even if they don't work.) There's a shiny glass-fronted bakery case, high ceilings and big windows, and even -- whoa, yuppies! -- a wood-fired pizza oven.
The crowd at the new place looks much like the old: Despite the increased elbow room, it's the same cozy conglomeration of upwardly mobile urbanites, a Montrose cross-section of singles and couples, gal pals and first dates, gays and straights. "Well, it's possibly a little more upscale over here," says Juan Hazle, manager of the new cafe. "We get those $50K singles on this side of Montrose, you know, and more families." On a recent visit, a brace of realtors in sharp navy suits cruised out as we came in; at the table next to us, three twentysomethings debated the relative merits of getting drunk that night. (The nay vote of the cute guy who had to be in Deer Park at dawn carried; they drank a pitcher of Barnaby's fresh lemonade instead.)
I was reassured to see the menu is also the same at this son-of-Barnaby's, largely unchanged since the original opened its smudged-glass doors back in 1992. I looked first for my favorite dinner plate; yep, there's the hickory-smoked chicken with honey barbecue sauce ($7.95). The pretty smoked meat is moist and pink, just as advertised, the tangy dipping sauce still sweetly appealing. The legendary burgers are all present and accounted for, especially that guacamole burger ($5.75), a winsome combination of rich guacamole sharp with lime juice and a melting slab of Monterey Jack cheese piled on a thick grilled patty of juicy ground chuck. The slender, crunchy french fries are still sprinkled with that cayenne-spicy seasoned salt, and every bit as good here as on Fairview.
It's simple fare, sure, but not as naive as it sounds. One of my friends always orders Doctor Gale's meat loaf and mashed potatoes ($7.25). The thick slab of meat loaf looks traditional enough, but it's quirkily scented with fennel and generously ladled with a fresh-tasting tomato sauce instead of the de rigueur ketchup or brown gravy. Meat loaf is such a deeply personal thing, you know? This interpretation is admirably heart-healthy, I suppose, but not fatty enough to win my affection; I admit, I'm a gravy-loving gal. I've also been unhappy on occasion with the green beans along for the ride; too many times they've been undercooked, as resoundingly al dente as raw carrot. Snap! Crackle! Yuck! Those garlicky mashed potatoes, though, I love deeply, their flavor earthy with brown bits of potato skin.
The difficulty at Barnaby's, really, is straying from personal-favorite comfort foods long enough to explore the rest of the menu. I rarely consider those good-for-you options, such as the grilled salmon with brown rice ($9.50), the meatless garden burger ($6) or the meal-size tossed salads. Barnaby's kitchen also boasts several different styles of grilled chicken breasts that I never even asked about, all these years. Newport chicken ($8.25), I learned on this last visit, is topped with a slice of salty ham and a translucent layer of mozzarella cheese; the Mill Valley variation has a gooey green mess of chopped spinach and artichokes tucked under its cheese cap that I like very much. The chicken breasts are grill-browned outside but moist within, and both plates come with those addictive fries and a cup of grandmotherly baked apple chunks, syrupy-sweet with cinnamon and sugar.
And I never can imagine that I'm hungry enough to finish a "full" order of baby back ribs ($10.50), no matter how temptingly the meat falls from the bone in tender shreds, no matter that this lumberjack's plate of two thick slabs of eight short ribs each, a haystack of fries and more of those fragrant baked apples, is a steal. Remember this, though: It makes great leftovers, and where better to ask for a doggie bag than in shaggy sheepdog heaven?
I sometimes wonder about a few things that aren't on Barnaby's menu. The pizza oven has been cold and dark every time I've been by, and there don't seem to be any pizzas on offer. "Oh, never mind, that oven is going to be gone soon," Hazle told me, laughing. "We're going to get rid of it because there's simply no room on our menu right now for pizzas." Lots of other new goodies are in the works, he promised: a Texas chili burger, a pasta marinara and a cobb salad.
