More Barking Room

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.

So when the second store opened last fall, I was worried. Could Barnaby’s Cafe muster 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.

What does Hazle mean, there’s no room on the menu? There’s a perfect blank spot on the place mat right below “Cool Sandwiches” where he could place a couple of appetizers, snacks forever absent from his place. Until then, creative diners can cobble something together to stand in for canapés. The chicken tostadas ($6.95) work well as an appetizer for two or three people, I’ve found. That same rosy smoked chicken is shredded and tossed with green leafy lettuce and cilantro, then mounded over two crisp corn tortillas smeared with refried beans. One mound is daubed with guacamole, the other with sour cream, and the plate comes with an attention-grabbing salsa of roasted corn, smoky and hot with chipotle peppers. You’ll end up fighting over the last kernels in that tiny cup, I predict.

This new Barnaby’s backs up at peak times just like the original. Even with two parking lots, one north and one south of the building, you may have to vulture-hover to secure a spot. Arrive at seven-ish for dinner or noon-ish for lunch, and you’re sure to spend some time standing around in the entryway. Thank goodness this waitspace is larger than on Fairview, and you can happily pass the time drooling over the desserts displayed to great advantage in the glass case next to the cash register. I can never resist the towering wedge of Barnaby’s signature carrot cake ($4.25), dark and thick with such goodies as carrot shreds, walnuts, plump raisins and surprise chunks of sweet pineapple. The creamy icing does have an unfortunate rubbery consistency, but that sidewall coating of chopped pecans goes a long way to make up for it. Look for the tiramisu ($4.25), which occasionally puts in an appearance; it’s to die for, really. Any pastry chef could genteelly dip those ladyfingers in coffee; Barnaby’s delivers a tiny pitcher of sin-black espresso on the side so you can dowse it yourself. The spongy cake just drinks it up, for a walloping strong flavor.

So was this expansion a good move for Barnaby’s Cafe? You betcha. “We’re really happy here,” Hazle told me. “We could use more tables, sure, and more parking, always, but we like the location. And we like the building. We’re really all about neighborhood, and it’s like we’re making our own new neighborhood here.”

Barnaby’s Cafe, 1701 South Shepherd, (713)520-5131 and 604 Fairview, (713)522-0106.