just thought chicken boo would let yall see what the food critic thought about us. at first read i was like...what is she doing to us.....but her words ring so true......lol
if you missed it....here it is.......
thanks for all of the support.
Beaucoup Wings N Wings is one of those surprising restaurants whose book is far more nuanced and delightful than its cover.
The cover, in this case, reads as another in the endless string of pedestrian, plastic chicken-wing joints that pepper the Houston landscape. All you see as you whiz by the strip mall opposite the University of Houston's baseball field is a generic sign reading -- with mystifying redundance -- Wings N Wings.
Tables sit outside on a fenced patio, but nothing else pulls the passerby in or arouses curiosity.
Nor does a cursory glance at the laminated menu inspire much hope. As I stood beside the semi-service counter on my first visit, my eye fell on such dispiriting choices as chicken tenders, a Boca burger, spinach and artichoke dip, jalapeño poppers and variously tweaked chicken wings. For a brief, panicky moment, I wanted to flee.
How glad I am that I stuck around for the homey, beautifully seasoned Creole specialties on this eccentric little restaurant's menu. Just a couple of spoonfuls made me a slave to the chicken-and-sausage gumbo -- a brew so warm and full, so rich with vegetal notes and dusky filé powder, that it makes me happy to be alive on a Houston fall day.
Call it the Beaucoup effect. Inside the misleading façade lies the neat, personal, community-minded domain of two young women who were displaced from New Orleans by Hurricane Katrina and who have set down tentative roots in a corner sandwich shop across from their alma mater. Lakesha Reed and Salimah Muhammad may not have had the money to erect a fancy ``Beaucoup'' sign when they purchased the chicken-wing spot last December, but they printed up menus, launched a Web site and began winning over customers one by one.
Just show me the Houston chow hound who could resist their maniacal crawfish bread, a French loaf topped with buttery crawfish étouffée, heady amounts of garlic and a gooey mantle of cheese. Sample it at your own risk; crawfish bread is the stuff of which cravings are made.
So is the catfish po-boy, the fish a marvelously crisped, cornmeal-coated fillet that has the pleasant mineral tinge of really good catfish, not the bland, farm-raised, frozen stuff. The sandwich is carefully dressed, not just with tthe standard tomato, pickles and mayonnaise, but also a sprightly jot of Louisiana hot sauce and ribbons of romaine lettuce — just a couple of the thoughtful touches that give the food here a distinct personality.
Take the green salad that accompanies the baskets of excellent fried seafood, such as the huge, batter-fried shrimp that startle with their pearly sweetness. When you shove aside the cascade of previously frozen french fries (rather good ones, I must admit), you come upon a springy nest of field-mix lettuces crowned with wall-to-wall shredded carrot, diced tomato and lightly pickled red cabbage. Add a little house-made Caesar or honey-mustard dressing from the little plastic cups that reside in a refrigerator case toward the rear of the restaurant, and you have a salad that exceeds expectations.
That's the way of things here. A hamburger po-boy emerges crusty and jubilantly seasoned, well-done but still juicy and irresistible. Red beans and rice have a smoky sausage current that gives them unusual bounce. A stuffed bell pepper emerges from the kitchen gleaming, wrinkly and the deepest, darkest green, its jaunty stemmed cap riding an insidiously delicious mixture of ground beef, shrimp and crab meat, all held together with just enough bread crumbs. This is a dish that could be served — to universal acclaim — on a plate lunch in Lafayette. It is not like anything else in town, and at $4.99, goes right into my personal takeout-food pantheon.
But then, I'm lucky. Beaucoup is just three miles from my house, on the convenient northeast corner of Elgin and Scott streets. I can pop in on my way home for gumbo, a pepper, a garden salad and maybe a couple of the flavored lemonades the owners concoct and bottle in-house, the better to be toted off by patrons from nearby UH, TSU and the Third Ward. The lemon is not quashed by too much sugar, whether tinted with blueberry, raspberry or even mango. I'm getting used to having a couple of these in my refrigerator.
I've grown accustomed, too, to the unfailingly polite and solicitous service from staffers who take orders at the bar and then bring the food to your table. Do not expect speed — there is often a line, and the food is made to order. But if you slide into the rhythms of this easygoing place, with its wildly diverse clientele, you may find yourself planning a return trip while you're still fighting over the last, garlicky bits of that shameless crawfish bread, or dueling over the last few drops of gumbo.
By ALISON COOK Houston Chronicle
Nov. 5, 2008, 3:24PM
Nov. 5, 2008, 3:24PM
