Mad Oilman

Del Frisco. Steak. History. Now in Houston. We decided to give it a shot. What a horrible, horrible mistake that was. Not only will I never eat at that Del Frisco's, I'll never eat at another Del Frisco's ever, even if I'm paid to eat there. If anyone at my company plans an event at a Del Frisco's and I find out about it I will do everything in my power to prevent it. Our experience was that bad.

Where to start. Early reservation on a whim. We're seated and the high pressure sales job begins. And I mean HIGH PRESSURE. No casual meal out tonight.

We're seated and immediately attacked by a waitress that clearly tells us that she's not our waitress, some other girl is, but what type of water would we like? OK No problem, water ordered.

As soon as I pick up the wine list to look for a pre-dinner aperitif a besuited bald man attacks the table. He's basically straddling the corner between my wife and I. And he starts going off into sommelier outer space. I tell him we're looking at South America for the evenings wine. I guess he doesn't understand Texan as he hears that as South African. And he goes of in great detail on how wonderful the two South African selections (at an entry price of $122) are.

We had just sat down. We don't have any water.  We haven't even ordered any aperitifs and we're basically assaulted by service. Bad, bad, bad.  I haven't had a chance to peruse the 33 page wine menu.

Our waitress returns to take our drink order and then begins to read from her memorized script of all the wonderful wine available not on the menu or just in. All starting, starting, at $150 a bottle.

We listen politely and finally order our overpriced aperitifs. Champagne for the wife, a nice Pinot Noir for me.

Once the wine was delivered, before we took a sip, the menu sales job began in earnest. We were taught how to read the menu and all about the wonderful and again ridiculously expensive off menu items. I try to shoo the waitress of and tell her we'll figure out our menu when our first drinks are nearly finished. Sure enough, as soon as I get close to the finish line she's there in all her sales glory. Push Push Push

I'm getting very pissed and we have not ordered a thing. I came very, very close to closing our tab on the two drinks and the water and walking out. The sales job was that oppressive.

But we decided to stick it out.

Appetizer is crab cake. We ask for the sauce on the side and we heard a long involved story about the glory of the sauce and that yes, our waitress would actually make the sacrifice to ask the kitchen to put the sauce on the side. Really. Sacrifice. It was almost as if she was offended that I wanted to taste the cake by itself without its frosting.

On its own the crab cake is pedestrian. Good crab meat, very bland cake. Wife loved the sauce. These guys are not selling a crab cake with sauce, they are selling a sauce with crab. Very disappointed. (If I can make a crab cake better than you your crab cakes suck. Period).

Salad course and I passed. Wife has the onion and tomato salad and likes the flavor but hates the honkingly large presentation. Three giant refrigerated slabs of tomato nestled around two giant refrigerated slabs of onion. The lack of sweat and gloss on the vegetables made me think they were not fresh cut for the salad. But refrigeration could have done the same thing.

Salad enjoyed and remainders bagged to go home. Bag presented and placed on the table.  PPV time (Personal Pet Peeve)

People. I'm spending damn good money at your fancy restaurant. Take a clue from Tom Collichio and give your guests a food claim token (like a coat check token). That way I don't have to look at the ever growing mound of food in the chair next to me and I can pick it up on the way out. Best concept ever and I've only seen it at Craft Dallas. Learn people, learn!

Steaks arrive and are presented. We are asked to cut into our steaks to assess their doneness factor.

Sorry restaurant people. I don't play this stupid game. Your chef knows how to cook a damn steak or he doesn't (this one doesn't). I'm not your monkey, you're my monkey.

Wife's steak is exceptional but undercooked. Mine is fair and overcooked. We could be asses and send them back but we'll just keep them, eat it and never come back. Pathetic.

Side dishes were spectacular and the highlight of the meal. Potatoes and onions were brilliant and the creamed corn with tasso ham and jalepeno was magnificent. Easily the highlight of the evening.

A small boy's worth of to go bags piled up in a chair, we peruse desert. And again are assaulted by a sales job for incredibly high end products. It's not funny anymore, it's just sad.  We've learned to basically ignore the frequent and long verbal incursions of our waitress throughout the meal. Nice gal but obviously on a stage and being forced to attack us at all peaceful moments to sell us something expensive.

A giant chocolate cake slice (that is the same one Strip house orders from the Chocolate Bar or a straight rip off of that fine slice) and some after dinner drinks and we are finally free.

Final assessment? Order a side dish and the cheapest glass of wine you can and you'll be happy. Otherwise this is the most offensive restaurant I have ever entered in my entire life. And you know what, jackass management? I can afford everything you're pushing down my throat. But that sales pressure not only made me say no, it made me say no to Del Frisco's  forever. Worst major steakhouse experience I've ever had. And if you're worse than Fleming's you just need to quit now (I'll never go to another Fleming's I and have successfully shot down a 25 person corporate meal there as well).

Morton's does a phenomenal job

Strip House does a phenomenal job

Mahogany is phenomenal (Tulsa)

Capital Grill is OK

Pappa's Steakhouse is OK

Del Frisco's is a joke

Fleming's is a joke

Smith and Wolensky's is a joke

Damn. I finally find a well made flannel shirt that doesn't have those stupid button down collars. (I’ll make a short story long as I have a glass of wine and there’s a random football game on providing me with benevolent background noises).

Subscribe to a gun magazine and you’ll get on some random catalog list. Subscribe to all of the gun magazines (except the British ones because I can’t read dense 5 pt font for more than a minute) and you receive the mother load of catalogs.

Aside. Why subscribe to every gun magazine? To figure out which ones are worth a damn. $10-$30 for a year long review is a fair price to pay, I think. Conclusion? A good chunk of them are crap.

So back to flannel. The new Orvis catalog arrives. Pricey, and a snob factor but they sell relatively good crap. And they have the elusive normal collar flannel shirt. After a week or two (and with temperatures dropping) I decide to take the plunge and order two of them.

A few days later I receive them and they are damn nice and they will most likely last many years. But Orvis wasn’t happy enough to take my dollars and provide me with their products. They also provided me with The Message. The Message was an insert in the package along with the packing slip.

On one side of the Message was a nice graphic with the title ‘Making Environmentally Responsible Decisions’. And an introductory essay as to the confusion in making the ‘correct’ decisions on things from light bulbs to which fish to eat. And what was The Message?

‘Fear not ignorant consumer! We have made those decisions for you.’

And the reverse side of ‘The Message’?

An essay titled ‘Carbon Credits Explained’. It had Indians in it. Really. And why carbon offsets are awesome. To save the environment and Earth and everything. The Message?

Carbon offsets are awesome! (brushing economic reality under the table).

All I wanted was a Pepsi. Or in this case, two shirts. Instead I received two shirts and a hell of a lot of preaching I didn’t ask for. Thanks Orvis. I might ask if I could get a discount on your products in the future if I just received what I paid for and you could take off the price of sermonizing but I realize that I would be wasting my time. So I’ll just end this so short relationship. Goodbye forever, you sanctimonious jackasses.

I brewed up a batch of Kern River Red for the Christmas holidays as I had quite a bit of family coming in. Unfortunately, it wasn't quite ready. It takes a good 3-4 weeks in the bottle for good results. This is 5 weeks in the bottle. This is as good as it gets. Excellent head and carbonation. Smooth malt with just a bit of bitterness and dryness from the hops. I need to finish this batch up so I can bottle the North Dakota Sweet Porter.

Mad Oilman is not a Longhorn. He is a Terrier, albeit a native Houstonian Terrier.

1. Defenses on both sides collapsed at the end.

2, Vince Young #2 Heisman? Right. That was proven tonight. A 6'5" mobile quarterback is a hell of a lot more valuable in the draft than a 6' running back/receiver that is a playmaker against crappy teams. A guy slated before this game to be the #1 pick in the NFL draft, who runs an average of 12 times a game. LenDale White proved to be the better offensive threat in this game, and his collegiate numbers prove him to be a good pickup if he is available. Reggie Bush is talented, yes. I see him going down the Antwoan Ranle El path. Fast as hell, not quite a receiver, not quite a runing back, to small for a tight end.

1. Pete Carrol is a damn good coach. Second half adjustments have been masterful. This game may come down to coaching.

2. Field goals are always important. Points on the board. Or in the case of Texas, not on the board. 4 points squandered.

3. Stupid penalities and turnovers are key. Texas is losing this battle in a big way.

4. Where did Texas' defense go?

5. Mack Brown's halftime motivational speech had to be one of the worst in history. As was his staff's first half analysis.

So the Astros pick up Preston Wilson. At best a sideways move. Yes, he had some key hits for the Nationals and his numbers look good, but he played in Colorado for quite a while and that town tends to inflate stats quite a bit. Average player.

What's infuriating, though, is listening to our local sports talk jackasses, Rich Lord and Mark Vandermeer discussing the move. They actually brought up that race (Preston is black) might have played a part in the signing as the Astros at that point had no 'black' players on the roster. They lamented that Major League Baseball as a whole only had 10% black athletes. Black population in the US is around 14% .

Vandermeer, in brilliant analysis, brought up the fact that a Major League roster is 30 players. Therefore the Astros should have at least 3 black players. What!? There are quotas in baseball? BULLSHIT! Baseball, as all sports are merit based. You are compensated based on talent. Period.

Then they intimated that this was a marketing move to get the black fan to the park. Again, What?!

The entire conversation implied old boy racism. In fact, it showed an inherent racism in the sportscaster, looking for problems where they do not exist.

Professional sports are based on skill, period. A player's value is based on his ability. His paycheck is based on his ability (and a good agent).

Given the demographic argument presented by Lord and Vandermeer, let me play devil's advocate and ask a few questions:

Why are there so few whites on the Texans, given there demographic distribution in the country? Is it racism?

Why are there so few Hispanics on the Texans, given there demographic distribution in the country? Is it racism?

Why are there so few Asians in any major sport? Is it racism?

Answer to all of the above? NO.

Let's continue.

Why are there no Black sports commentators on the 610 lineup? Is it racism? Are Kevin Bass contributing during the Astros season and Andre Ware calling during the Texan's season marketing ploys to bring in the Black audience? Why does the regular staff not reflect the demographics of the USA?

Stupid commentary by inherently ignorant people, creating controversy where there is none to generate callers. Again, Bullshit.

1. Keith Jackson - Time to retire. Calling an obviously wide right extra point good shows you don't even pay attention any more. It was obvious.

2. How long is halftime? Come on, let's play some football.

3. USC Band - Beat It, Michael Jackson. Nice collective 250 person crotch grab and thrust. Classy.

4. U2 performance/commercial - Ummm, Apple used that song about a year ago. Hideous waste of time delaying the game needlessly for some stupid and ill thought out marketing campaign.

5. Midway through the 3rd quarter. Reggie Bush? Sorry, this is the Vince Young show. Reggie Bush has been shut down. It's still a damn good game, but looking at sheer talent at this point, Reggie Bush is not a #1 draft pick. Don't do it Texans. Don't do it.

6. Officiating. Typical college garbage. Vince Young's knee was down on the lateral. Texas intercepted a ball near the end of the second half. Even in the impact of incompetence at this point.

It's always entertaining to look at the search terms and referrals to this pathetic website. My personal favorite search term was 'witch doctor for hire'. Number six for that one.

Given my numerous cooking posts about Italian food, I'm a big hit on Microsoft Italy's portal. The Fiorentina steak photos are ogled by Italians on a steady weekly basis. So I'm used to some odd Italian search engine hits. But not this one. This comes close to unseating 'witch doctor for hire'. Close, but not quite.

Yes, if you're in search of a black american husband and you happen to be using MSN search in Italy, I'm the number 5 hit. And I'm plumb out of black american husbands. It seems I need to stock up a bit. I see opportunity.

Channel 786. Cable radio. Metal. It is the foundation channel for this household's avoidance of commercials. Hit 786, play a name that tune through to the Golden Oldies channel and guess what? Back to the original show with perfect timing.

Well as it is the night before Thanksgiving, there's not a whole lot on. I've been roaming channels but I keep coming back to good old 786.

Then something strange happens. Forgetting the channel I am on, I hear the intro to a song. I immediately scream 'Bjork'. Looking towards the tely, I am proven correct, but in a very, very wrong manner.

Yes, this is Bjork. 'Army of Me'. Covered by Helmet. OK, a bit of a stretch but I like Helmet a lot. Then I see the album title. Something about 'Save Our Oceans' or some other garbage like that.

So is this what it has come to? Helemt covering Bjork songs for the Save our Oceans album? On the 'friggin METAL Channel!

Judas Priest came up two songs later and erased all of that evil debasement. 'The Ripper'. That will atone for quite a few metal transgressions.