OUR REVIEW OF VIN

Bayou Place in downtown Houston is very popular with film buffs, who often vote the Angelica their favorite set of screens. And the development sits in the middle of prime real estate for the performing arts, just about equidistant from the Alley, the Wortham, Jones Hall and the Hobby Center. Sadly, unless you count Hard Rock Café as your favorite dining destination, Bayou Place hasn’t rung many culinary bells lately. All that is in the process of changing, however, and we think the new restaurant and wine bar spelled Vin is a major part of the change.

If you want to pronounce Vin correctly, just pretend there’s an “e” at the end – for yes, it is pronounced “vine.” That’s a pretty cool name for a wine bar, unless people walk about all day rhyming it with “sin,” or more appropriately, with “zin.” Zinfandel is only one of many well-chosen and often-quirky wines sold by the bottle or, better still, by the glass at Vin. If you’re really in a hurry to make the start of a show, you might drop in for a glass of wine and one or two of the appetizers. The kitchen can react quickly to requests placed under deadline – and they’ll be honest if this or that dish can’t be done. On the other hand, get downtown early enough for a full dinner and you’ll have to park only once. You’ll find yourselves in a stylish, sexy, tending-toward-Asian dining room, gazing at a menu with more than its share of curiosities and surprises.

Tucked away within all the great bottles and Chef Jared Estes’ sprightly New American-with-splashes-of-Deep-South menu, Houston has a business reason to be proud of this place. The developers of Bayou Place are looking at Vin as a “test case” for their multi-use projects in other American downtowns. As Houston eats, therefore, so eats the nation. Based on one recent fly-by before a movie and then a full-bore, multi-course dinner experience, downtown America may await a splashy red-and-black evening-out at its very own Vin in the near future.

As though knowing there would be “fly-bys” on the way to this or that performance, Estes has served up an unusually long and varied list of appetizers, including some things that (based on similar chefs we know) are probably among his personal favorites. There’s a foie gras starter (not described in detail because it’s “today’s interpretation”) and another made with the current chef’s rage, pork belly. The later is a hot-sweet delight that’s chile-crusted then balanced with figs, dates and pistachios. Still, what we like best about Vin’s menu starts to crop as early as the appetizers: a passionate effort to incorporate comfort foods from the South among dishes that seem to hail resolutely from someplace resembling California.

Best bets from among these delightfully “upscale redneck” classics include shrimp and grits, the single most beloved dish of the Carolina Low Country, and a very nice quail – sitting there in all its Texas hunting-season glory but given twists by roasted sweet Walla Walla onions (try to get the Texas 10/15s, chef), gorgonzola and local honey comb. The list of must-try starters doesn’t stop there, though. Check out the glorious agnolotti – bigger, plumper versions of ravioli in a parmesan broth with thankfully-not-too-much black truffle oil – and the grilled (not batter-fried) calamari, taking the strange form of the Tuscan bread salad called panzanella. Lastly, you shouldn’t leave without the “Hot Pot,” a loving spin on those Chinese dumplings, in a kind of consommé with several crispy tempura shiitake lying about.

When it comes time for a main courses, seafood lovers might go with our recommendation: oat-crusted scallops with truffled corn orzo and what Estes is billing as “miso mostarda.” We have no idea what that name means here, but the addition of a pungent mustard sauce is as delicious as it is unexpected. The mandatory salmon comes creatively outfitted, from its oyster mushrooms to its Jerusalem artichokes to its light, mildly Cajunized tasso broth. Diners on a red meat-quest at Vin should go for either the filet, which tastes lightly smoked in addition to perfectly broiled, and sits beneath a smoked rock shrimp with a side of (enjoy the quotation marks) “mashed potatoes and gravy,” or perhaps the lamb strip loin. These last tender strips would be wonderful enough by themselves, but they’re even better sprinkled with Mexican cotija cheese and the crunch of pickled jicama.

On the night we went to Vin, there were six desserts available – and we did a tasting of all six, as can you. Dessert portions are smallish, perhaps an issue in side-of-cake-loving Houston; but the pleasures can be pretty intense. Our favorites included the unusual-sounding gingered strawberry and apricot goat cheese crisp (don’t argue, just enjoy) and the bittersweet chocolate and Grand Marnier “cobbler” with butter brittle. Some of the language seems invented to sell, but the tastes and textures of dessert at Vin are often marvelous. You know, maybe if you can’t make it in before your show, you can still swing by for dessert and a glass of wine after. It’s a thought!