Kinkead's

Well, it's hopeless writing about a restaurant more than a month afterwards. Relevant details I remember from a visit to Kinkead's in October are that Dotti and I went on a federal holiday, met up ostensibly to buy our plane tickets to Paris, and instead drank wines and ate fishes. So biblical of us.

I got there a few minutes early and had one of the snootiest combos I can think of: Sancerre and oysters. With a tabletop King Triton butter cover!



















Like a considerate friend, I was working on my second appetizer before Dotti even got her entrée. Why I have friends who dine with me, I don't know. I had the tuna tartare, gussied up Hawaiian style ("poke") with mango, toasted macadamia nuts, and delicious but now mystery chips. (Separately, in the case you'd like my opinion, I preferred Zentan's Pacific twist on steak tartare. Thank you.)

Lovely Dotti's food came, a staid study of temperance and responsible dining (it was one plate). She had brioche-crusted white fish and a pretty little softserve of mashed potatoes.

She also ordered fried okra. Or I did. It's one of those things like macaroni and cheese that we trend toward ordering at places like this just to see.

Unsurprisingly, it didn't taste like Oklahoma or North Carolina fried okra. Please compare. (That's catfish, not misshapen okra, on top by the way.)


Maybe let's try this picture instead; at least these okras have their own pile and no extraneous dipping sauces.


My meal (finally) was a delicious Yucatan tuna soup with tomatillos, chiles, lime, sour cream, and tortillas. I'll admit, it was pretty fantastic with a flavorful broth and large chunks of tuna. And refreshingly un-raw.

Top 100, you may have won a battle but I'll win the war: 14 to go (technically more if you include the fact I've hit more but have been to lazy to write them up)!