RESTAURANT REVIEW: Lucille's
Southern food is not really one of my go-to cuisines these days; it's certainly not bad, I just generally prefer a different flavor profile, and the dishes often tend to be quite heavy and one-note. I don't love the term "comfort food", as, in my opinion, it is often thrown around somewhat condescendingly implying a lower quality, but I don't think you'll find many who would argue that a lot of these dishes qualify for that (loving) moniker. However, when done right, they can produce some pretty memorable results. In Houston, if you're looking for refined Southern fare that honors tradition while elevating classics to a new level, this is the place.
Lucille's is named after chef Chris Williams' great-grandmother, some of whose passed-down recipes grace the menu today. Opened in 2012, it's located in a small vintage house in the Museum District, within spitting distance of the Children's Museum and across the street from the perpetually under-construction X Houston high-rise. Funnily enough, I used to live just a couple of blocks away, but somehow never realized that the restaurant was there. A shame, as it has continued to rack up accolades in the intervening years: a mainstay on the post-COVID editions of the Houston Chronicle top 100 list (ranking as high as #13), as well as a James Beard Outstanding Restauranteur Award finalist nod for CW.
A quaint space, the cottage is highly wood-adorned, with weathered tables and chairs adding to the rustic charm. You can clearly appreciate that it was once a residence: our table was tucked away in a side room near an old fireplace. The semi-open kitchen allows for one of my favorite experiences... hearing the expediter bark out instructions to keep service flowing smoothly. Apparently that efficiency trickles out into the dining room, as our waiter, Rick, was fantastic and the dishes came out lightning-quick.
A small bar churns out cocktails such as the Good Thymes, a concoction of Uncle Nearest whisky, orange bitters, and sweet potato simple syrup, garnished with a sprig of thyme. Well-balanced with earthiness and a trace of citrus, I quite enjoyed this drink... at least until the end, when a considerable amount of sweet potato sediment that had settled at the bottom of the glass made for a slightly unpleasant last sip.
The starters pretty much all sound yummy (Famous Chili Biscuits, Boudin Balls, and Oxtail Tamales were among those I didn't get to sample), to the point where it was paralyzingly difficult to choose. So we went with our server's recommendation of the Crab Cakes. These petite discs were fried to a gentle crisp, and served with a black eyed pea salsa and "green" hollandaise (inverted commas because it was very clearly yellow). It's hard to go wrong with crab cakes, even if I prefer a slightly more zealous fry, and the soft interior was packed with delicious crab flavor. The rich, buttery sauce (with a hint of anise... tarragon perhaps?) was a perfect complement to the sweet crustacean, and the legumes brought it all together.
A lesser-known (previously unknown by me, in fact) style of gumbo is Gumbo Z'Herbes, which is made with leafy greens, traditionally meatless for consumption during Lent. Apparently, though, the chef was not inspired by the temptation of Christ, because his version includes ham hock and andouille sausage (plus the option to add Lenten-friendly shrimp or oysters for a small upcharge). The roux here is a bit more watery than what I'm used to, but the seasoning is tremendous, with peppery herbs and spices singing through, and some white rice to absorb all that flavor. While quite tasty, I think I still prefer a more traditional gumbo, and I would be remiss if I passed up the opportunity to reference/link to the best one in the city (and possibly the world).
I rarely eat oxtails (in fact I'd venture to say that they are not in my top 50 most-ingested proteins), but it felt like the right move here. Long considered an undesirable part of the cow, in recent years the tail has become much more hip and sought-after (though certain cultures have always embraced this cut, especially in soups), causing a resultant spike in prices. The meat is quite gelatinous, so it requires considerable cooking down to make it palatable, usually by braising (or via a pressure cooker if you are both short on time and brave). Here the dish is Braised Oxtails, with fire roasted caponata, serrano cheddar grits, and an oxtail jus. Three of the four pieces on the plate were fall-off-the-bone tender, though the fourth was still a bit tough, which is odd because presumably they had been cooking together all day long. Grits are not my favorite because of their... gritty (sorry) texture, but the incorporated cheese played pleasantly against the meat, and the jus drizzled on top packed a savory punch. The eggplant got a bit lost among the other huge flavors, and was honestly rather superfluous. Also, the biologist in me does quite enjoy observing the sort of cruciform, vertebral shape of these bones once the meat is scraped off.
Speaking of bone-in, the MVP of the evening was the absolutely out-of-this-world fried chicken, on the menu as Yardbird, a term which I'm on record as despising (except when referring to the incredible yakitori restaurant in Hong Kong by the same name). The fowl is buttermilk-brined – there's a choice between white or dark meat – and accompanied by a smoked mash, braised collard greens, and an unbelievable peppercorn gravy. Super crispy on the outside, delectably moist on the inside, and oh! that gravy... unctuous and creamy with the perfect amount of salinity and a touch of heat, I just wish there had been more of it on the plate. The potatoes were wonderful as well, and while I don't particularly care for collards, they were prepared nicely and gave an earthy contrast and a pop of color.
As we learned on Top Chef: Charleston, no Southern meal would be complete without biscuits. Here the Hot Rolls – one of grandma Lucille's recipes – were beautiful fluffy pillows, served with a ramekin of warmed butter. Healthy? No, but these soft mounds of dough really satisfied my heart (ok ok, a bit ham-fisted, I know, but I had to force a Little Richard reference in here somewhere).
For dessert, it would be a sin (callback) to go with anything other than the Croissant Bread Pudding. A sweet crème anglaise is poured over the spiced bread pudding, and it's topped with spiked berries, dusted with powdered sugar, and plated alongside some lovely vanilla ice cream with a gargantuan mint leaf garnish. As is customary, I nearly burnt my tongue on the piping hot pastry, but the cinnamon and nutmeg lent such a nice warmth and aroma to the dense bready deliciousness that I quickly went back for more (after cooling my palate with the cold scoop). The berry compote also provided a tangy contrast and some reddish hues to please the eye.
This meal was a great change of pace for me, and while I may not return any time soon, I will be dreaming of that fried chicken for weeks to come. But don't take it from me, take it from the random old grandma seated at the table next to us, in town from Charleston visiting family, who told Rick that "this was the only place in Houston that showed her true southern hospitality". While that not-so-subtle dig at whatever other spots she experienced during her stay garnered an even-less-subtle eye roll from me, we were at least in agreement that Lucille's serves up tremendous Southern food with service that makes you feel like family.
NEXT UP: My never-ending quest for amazing Indian food continues in the Big Apple