A white plate holding a prodigious piece of grouper arrived at the table at Down House last Saturday night, completely halting the conversation I was having with my dining companion as we both pondered its immense size.
"Do you see this?" said my dining companion, Brandon Fisch, as he examined it from several angles. I'd invited Fisch, most recently the executive chef at Yelapa Playa Mexicana, along for his seafood expertise. He looked momentarily dumbfounded by the sheer size of the thing.
"This is at least a $30 portion of fish by itself," Fisch finally continued. "And they're serving it for $22?" He just chuckled and shook his head, perhaps baffled by Down House's portions but beguiled by the fish nonetheless as he quickly dug in.
Across the table, I was admiring my little bento-esque box of tempura-battered eggplant and zucchini. It's always heartening to see thoughtful vegetable dishes on menus even if I'm not a vegetarian myself, and I was impressed with not only the arrangement of the vegetables but the small touches that accompanied them: a well-dressed watercress salad with julienned apples on top and a bowl of effervescent kombucha-ginger dipping sauce.
We traded dinner plates halfway through, polishing both off despite an ample appetizer of Down House's twiggy French fries, seasoned with fresh thyme and Banyuls vinegar. I loved the little ramekins of citrusy housemade mayo served with the fries, a touch I hadn't seen previously at lunch, and reminded myself to order the mayo on the side with every future order of fries.
"Was the grouper a little overcooked?" asked Fisch, as we regarded our empty plates. "Yes."
"But did it taste good?" he continued. "Absolutely."
I couldn't disagree, though I found myself wanting more of the smoky vegetable ragout underneath that had been out of proportion, serving-wise, with the giant piece of flaky fish on top. Wanting more of a restaurant's food is a good sign nevertheless.
And while there are still a few kinks to work out, Down House has already made a tremendous impact in the short two-and-a-half months that it's been open.
The Heights isn't exactly wanting for restaurants, bars or coffee shops right now. You can get an excellent cortado at Revival Market or upscale cafe-style food at Shade. You can get that stay-all-day vibe at Onion Creek or great craft beer at Petrol Station just north of the Heights. But combining all of these concepts into one is what makes Down House unique. It's a tricky thing to pull off, and I initially thought it couldn't be done.
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On my first visit to Down House two weeks ago, I nearly got up and left. I wasn't dazzled by the twee dining room – my dining companion, a coworker, referred to it as "affected" with a tone of derision – and it smacked of over-exertion in all the wrong places.
I don't really care how old the medicine cabinets and botanical prints on the walls are if your waitstaff can't be bothered to come by the table even once in 20 minutes. And I also don't care how cute my waiter's old-timey tie pins are, or how darling my waitress's 50s-inspired dress may be (okay, maybe I care about that one a little bit) – it means absolutely nothing if they disappear for good after taking my drink order. Being left alone for 20 minutes during that initial lunch service was something that was repeated at another lunch the very next week, frustrating me to no end.
After barely receiving menus and then being left to our own devices, my coworker and I were ready to leave. Finally, we flagged down a waiter who seemed to have completely forgotten that he gave us our menus and took our drink order (drinks which never materialized) and decided to stay put.
Luckily, our lunch came out in record time, a tribute to Down House's thoughtfully small menu. My coworker's Longhorn burger was the stuff of sweaty-foreheaded, dilated-pupil, burger wet dreams. The patty tasted as if it had been cooked on a griddle made of butter, cooked to a splendid medium-rare and tasting of nothing but sweet, buttery beef with a hint of salt. It was slightly smaller than its fresh, yeasty bun. And instead of interfering with that driving, meaty flavor, the other ingredients simply complemented it like a chorus of backup singers whose sole purpose is to make the star shine even brighter: Longhorn cheddar, peppery arugula, ripe tomatoes and house-made mustard thick with whole grains of mustard seeds that popped and sizzled against the beef.
The burger made my atrocity of a salad that much sorrier. The same arugula on the burger was the base here, with accents of fennel and shaved radish. There were scant few of the touted "spiced pecans" from the menu and barely any peach vinaigrette at all. The salad tasted bitter and dissonant. I shoved it aside after four bites and idly scooped some boring tomato-basil soup into my mouth. I even tried the salad again on another visit, a week later, and came away disappointed once again.
