Jus' Mac

My love affair with macaroni and cheese began when I was still in utero. I came out of the womb covered not in placenta but instead Kraft macaroni and cheese dust. The doctors were baffled, but hey, they'd seen stranger. I made my first box of macaroni and cheese before I could walk, crawling around on the counter top, brushing my onesie out of the way of the burner on the stove, my hands barely large enough to carve the required three tablespoons of butter off the stick. I'm convinced my parents did feed me other things when I was growing up, but all I can remember was macaroni and cheese; all my macro-nutrients were provided by that little blue box. Macaroni and cheese and I grew apart slightly when I reached high school, like most relationships of the youth do; I discovered ramen for the first time, and would carry bowls of it to my cave to slurp at while I did "homework" and worked on "things". Macaroni must never hear what ramen and I did together.

We fell in love again in college. I discovered Velveeta Easy Mac, and the single serving, microwavable containers and I hit it off immediately. We behaved like young lovers. We'd lay in bed together for hours, Velveeta whispering sweet words of encouragement, myself, gently caressing its yellow exterior, forking the beautiful shells into my mouth one after another. I treated Velveeta so well, buying boxes and boxes of it, microwaving it every time I needed a fix. It wasn't long before I woke up one morning with no recollection of the night before, covered in noodles, bits of cheese dripping from my hair. My room was a mess - cases of Velveeta had been destroyed, hardened shells crunching into the carpet with every step I took. I was an addict. I had to stop. A freshman in college, and my life was so nearly over.

I gave macaroni and cheese up and was clean for a year, year and a half. Then I started to hear rumors of the most wonderful place. A restaurant in the Heights that served nothing but macaroni and cheese? It was any Kraftddicts dream. I was wary of backsliding, though. I remembered the great Velveetagate of '09. I didn't want to slip in my ways. I waited nearly six months before I first entered the doors of Jus' Mac, tasted my first bite of their cuisine. I'll never forget that day - it was sunny, early in the morning. I was wearing an old T-shirt and had my hair down. The first bite and it all came back. Hello, my name is Catherine, and I'm a macaholic.

I've been back four times since then, which puts it as one of my most frequented restaurants in the Houston area. Everything on their menu is delicious, but everyone here knows that isn't what this is all about. This is arbitrary criticism, and this is my first negative review.

I'd like to start off by repeating to you that the restaurant is called Jus' Mac. I mean, what does that mean to you? I assumed that "Jus'" was short for "Just". As in, "Just Mac and cheese and the other delicious ingredients we mix into our food stuffs." A quick look at the menu, however, shoes that "Jus' Mac" is actually an abbreviation for "Just things that aren't mac and also mac". Do you know what else they serve? Paninis. Does anything about paninis seem like macaroni and cheese to you? One of them is cheesy and noodly and delicious, and the other has way too many vowels. It doesn't make sense. Restaurants have to follow "truth in menu" laws, and I assume that this is the only thing about the FDA I approve of. Dare I suggest they also create "truth in restaurant name: laws? I'm just saying. You put paninis on a menu, and people are going to start ordering them. What's going to happen to my lover, macaroni and cheese? It's a delicate soul. It can't handle the competition, it'll break it's tiny, chemically flavored heart. -1000 for taking the emphasis away from my favorite food.

Another problem with the restaurant is that it's tiny. Every time I've been in there, they've been busier than House of Pies after the bars close. Worse, even, because drunk people will let you share a table with them and get a couple french fries off their plate when they aren't looking. I'll be honest. I like my delicious restaurants to be completely devoid of people. If I have to actually wait in line to order my food ... I mean come on, guys. I'm an American. I haven't waited for anything since they made TVs that could fast forward through commercials. I don't even stop at red lights anymore. (That was a joke, Mom and Dad.) It's intensely frustrating that everybody else likes this restaurant as much as I do. The parking lot is tiny. Sometimes I have to park across the street. ACROSS THE STREET! And then - THEN! - walk across the road to get to the restaurant. Once again, I'd like to point out that I'm an American! They give out those carts at Walmart that beep when they back up for a reason. We've evolved past this sort of exercise. So -24 points for being so disgustingly popular. Some of those people probably ordered paninis! The staff at Jus' Mac is unbelievably friendly, and it just really gets my goat that they're friendly to that whole crowd of satisfied customers and not just me. Harumph. You know what? Make that -26.

In addition to serving my favorite kind of food, Jus' Mac does, I'll begrudgingly admit, also employ my favorite shameless marketing technique - restaurant merchandising. There's nothing I love more than a restaurant that will sell me one of their T-shirts. I will openly admit to you guys that I only use my Freebird's Fanatics card to earn points for a T-shirt. There's just something really charming to me about a restaurant that knows you love them so much you'll wear their logo emblazoned across your chest to class or to visit your grandma. I haven't caved yet and bought one, but I also haven't gone to a Macaholic Anonymous meting in a while, so classmates: stay tuned for my new wardrobe. +16 for giving me just what I want.

Like I said to you guys, the food at Jus' Mac is really delicious, but we all know that that's not what's really important in a restaurant. False advertising and crowds of people? I'd never recommend this place to you. Get your own box of macaroni and cheese, and while you're eating it, if you have any questions or comments, feel free to email me at arbitrarycriticism@live.com.

Chacho's

Chacho's is a 24-hour Mexican food restaurant with six locations in Houston and San Antonio. The location I went to was off of 45 at Tidwell, and if it looks like a Taco Cabana, it's because, I'm told, it used to be a Taco Cabana.

OK. I'm just as aware as you are that the title of this blog is arbitrary criticism, and that I've all but sworn not to grade an establishment on their food. But here's something most of you probably don't know about me: I've been in search of the world's best fish taco for what feels like decades. Up until now, the best fish taco I've ever had was at the Rainbow Cafe in the Houston Galleria, and I'm not just saying that to be ironic and white. (Actually I'm not even sure why I'm playing the race card, fish tacos definitely seem like the sort of things that were invented by white people who'd had Mexican food once on vacation in Texas.) Rainbow Cafe really does have delicious fish tacos. But let me tell you: none of the fish tacos I've ever eaten my whole life - not the ones that gave me my first taste of fishy goodness, at Cain and Abel's in Austin, not at Pappacito's, not at the restaurant inside Bass Pro Shop, not at the Cheesecake Factory, no, not even in the Rainbow Cafe - tasted as good as the fish tacos at Chacho's. All of them, restaurants KNOWN for their authentic Mexican food, and none of them as good as Chacho's. So when I give them a +54 for their fish tacos, it's not because I'm grading them on their food - I have too much integrity for that. Instead, my friends, I'm grading them on their ability to beat back dozens of competitors, named and unnamed, in the quest for the true award: Catherine Martin's Most Delicious Fish Taco. It's not the food that gets them the points, it's the award.

Now that we've got that controversial bit out of the way, let's move on to what I really loved about Chacho's: Their salsa bar. There's nothing I love more than a good salsa bar. Like any good American, I love things that are unlimited: unlimited night and weekend minutes, unlimited Friends reruns on TBS, and unlimited salsa at Mexican restaurants. A normal restaurant, they deliver your chips and salsa, you eat them, you converse, and then, oh no! You've consumed all your salsa before your food even arrives! What are you supposed to pour over your taco? Heaven forbid your waitress doesn't notice your lack of salsa and you have to actually ask her yourself. Luckily, Chacho's removes all those painful lost syllables: "Hey lady, we're outta salsa! Couldja bring us some more?" Here you don't have to suffer through actual communication - you can merely get up yourself, wander on over to the salsa bar, and try samples of dozens of different salsas! At Chacho's, you can eat a whole taco, each bite dipped in a different type of salsa! Who doesn't love that kind of self service variety? I'll admit that sometimes I go to Taco Cabana - in broad daylight, on weekdays - just for the salsa bar. I'm delighted to know that Taco Cabana can be re-regulated to midnight on weekends, and Chacho's can fill the empty salsa bar in my heart. +16 for the salsa bar.

Another thing that I thought was super great about Chacho's was the monitors they had posted around the restaurant. It's definitely a self-service joint - staff members will come to your table to take your plates, but food is served at a window and you're in charge of your own drinks (and, thankfully, salsa). Don't you hate that moment when you're waiting for your number to be called, and they skip from 38 to 40? Wait, you ask yourself. Did they call 39? Was I just passed out from hunger and didn't hear them? A lot of numbers tend to rhyme, and there's nothing more embarrassing than stepping up to the counter only to have somebody else grab away the food you thought was yours, swiftly taking it back to the safety of their own table. At Chacho's they eliminate this problem - the numbers they call are proudly displayed on monitors placed for your convenience around the interior of the restaurant. Not only does this alert you when your food is ready, but having monitors in the restaurant sidesteps the problem of having TVs in the restaurant. You never have to be sucked in to watching a sport you care nothing about. +13 for ingenuity and not forcing customers to watch table tennis.

No restaurant is completely perfect, however, and Chacho's came in the form of a shady looking man standing outside the front of their building, wearing sunglasses, his arms crossed over his chest. Who wears sunglasses at night? I'll tell you who. Drug dealers. Pimps. Landlords. All sorts of unsavory creatures. I thought I was going to have a thrilling encounter with a real villain, but when I came closer, I realized that he was instead wearing only 3D glasses. Not a criminal - just a hipster. -8 for disappointed dreams.

If you decide to go to Chacho's, make sure you try the fish tacos and let me know what you thought about them! All questions and comments can be directed, of course, to arbitrarycriticism@live.com.

Zoe's Kitchen

Zoe's Kitchen is a chain with about 50 locations, based in Birmingham, Alabama. There are four in the Houston area and one located 3701 Shepherd, which is the location I visited earlier this evening. I had the steak stack with a side of rice pilaf, and it was freaking delicious. No, seriously. Their rice was so buttery; whether it's intentional or not, Zoe's definitely gives off a health food vibe but there was no way there was less than a pound of butter in that rice. A. Mazing.

I know people don't go to restaurants for the food (seriously, who does that?) but one of my arbitrary criticisms today comes from their menu itself. To start us off on a positive note (and I had a very positive experience), the potato and pasta salads they sell have no mayo. I don't usually eat potato or pasta salads because I think they're disgusting, but when people ask me why I don't like them, to be polite I usually say it's because I hate mayo. In reality, it's because both of these foods should be served hot; potatoes should be served mashed or fried and pasta should be covered in Alfredo sauce. Neither one should be cold. I mean I hate when I look at something and think, man, this is really going to warm my mouth up, but when I take a bite it's been in the refrigerator for at least six hours. I hate it! But Zoe's has really done me a favor today by compelling me to admit out loud what exactly it is that I hate about these food, and I really appreciate what they've done in forcing me to give up the walls I've built around my culinary heart and finally let someone know my true feelings on chilled side dishes.+8 for disabling my defense mechanisms.

What I liked most about Zoe's Kitchen, however, was the artwork they had lining the walls. I asked an employee about it; apparently they have a deal with a local elementary school where they donate art supplies to the students, who are then encouraged to paint these paintings. And despite the fact that they were all done by six-year-olds, they weren't bad. I mean, I've seen much less convincing still-lifes at MFAH; some of these kids obviously have futures in the art world. The rest should probably stick to their day jobs. Anyway, Zoe's Kitchen sells these paintings to their clientele (I'll admit I just used that word because it's fun to spell) and then donate the money back to the elementary school. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm still a hard-hearted Republican, I don't want anybody to think that I care about cute little intercity kids or anything like that. But I think it's a really neat program, especially considering how much I appreciated my art classes in elementary school. +10 for caring about kids and +10 for the original decorating scheme.

My other favorite part of Zoe's Kitchen was the unobtrusive music they were piping through their speakers. I don't want to give you the wrong impression at all; Zoe's is not a hipster joint. But it is in the part of town where you'd expect "Listomania" to be played over and over until you break out in hipster chill and start biking to work. I have a problem with restaurants who play their music just loud enough that it detracts from whatever it is you're saying to your dinner companion, in this case my lovely roommate. I also hate restaurants who play the music just low enough that it just tickles your eardrums; you have to listen to hear what song it is, no matter how compelling your date's conversation is; the tune is just present enough to annoy you. I'm happy to report that the music was the proper volume and none of the songs were catchy enough to listen to at all, let alone sing along loudly to, like some pizza places in West U that I could mention.* +4

Anyways I want everybody to know that I'm a serious journalist, and I'm not just going to give  mindlessly great reviews to everyone. I did have a problem with Zoe's, and that was their lack of booth seating. They had this weird hybrid thing going, where the booth was against the wall but the seats in front were regular chairs. Like all good Americans, I prefer a booth to any other kind of seating, because then I can sit concealed, sipping on my iced water, pretending I'm a cop or a spy or a cheating spouse and can't have everybody knowing what I'm up to. At Zoe's only one person in your pair can be the cheating spouse; the other has to sit, exposed to all for their infidelity  and dealings with foreign governments. It's just not fair, and I don't like it. -13

Overall, though, I did enjoy Zoe's Kitchen. They're a good restaurant if you want food that makes you feel clean rather than greasy afterwards, which I'll admit even I sometimes do. I definitely recommend stopping in if you get a chance. As always, if you have any questions or comments feel free to contact me at arbitrarycriticism@live.com. Happy eating!

*Pink's Pizza

Barron's BRB Diner

I'll just spoil the ending and tell you that this is going to be be a positive review. Barron's is the student run restaurant that Hilton College uses to train its students in managerial arts and food service, located inside the building and open only for lunch, between the hours of 11:30 and 1. I myself spent a semester and four mandatory credit hours waitressing at Barron's, which is why I will never waitress again and why I'm going to give Barron's an arbitrarily good review. The special the day I went was a burger topped with goat cheese, caramelized onion, lettuce and tomato on ciabatta bread with a side of herbed garlic fries and it was delicious, but how the food was sounds pretty relevant so we'll get down to the brass tacks of this review.

The first thing I noticed when I walked into the restaurant is that the walls were covered in Thanksgiving decorations. You can't know how much that warmed my heart. There is nothing I hate more than waking up November 1 from my Halloween candy coma, looking out my window, and seeing a world already decorated for Christmas. This year when I went shopping for my Halloween costume, Walmart was already selling fake Christmas tress. It's October 20th, Walmart. Nobody wants a Christmas tree. There is not a single person in America, I can almost guarantee, that loves Christmas so much they'll put up decorations TWO MONTHS in advance. I don't care how much you were abused as a child, nothing makes that OK. So I'm going to go ahead and give Barron's +7 for recognizing that there's a whole holiday between Halloween and Christmas, and having the balls to stand up to the world and celebrate it.

The Thanksgiving decorations, my friends, were not even the best part of the restaurant. The semester I was required to provide my free labor in the restaurant it was called Barron's The Stuffed Burrito, and we sold Mexican food and wore ties. Every few years, though, they rejuvenate the menu and rebrand the place, and it recently made the transition into the BRB Diner. The new menus they came up with are aesthetically amazing, which is why I'm now my dad and say things like "back in my day, we didn't have these fancy looking menus, we had ugly ones and everyone just dealt with it." Seriously I'd go back just to look at the menus. They have this cool, 60's mod look to them, and even though it's the same restaurant foundationally as before, I think they really helped make it seem more like an actual diner. Definitely +9 for those. A much more important change, however, was that now everyone was wearing bow ties! Imagine how great it must be to wake up every Wednesday and know that you get to go to class wearing a bow tie! They, truly, are the lucky ones. More important that their feelings, though, are mine: I felt like some sort of president of a small Middle Eastern country or maybe a detective, having my food delivered to me by a person wearing a bow tie. It was even better than having a butler! It was like having a butler, but I didn't have to give them a salary and let them borrow my Jag when they needed to go to the grocery store! +26 for sure!

I want to be fair in my review, however. It wasn't all Thanksgiving decorations and goat cheese and bow ties. There was a cloud on my otherwise perfect lunch. I don't want to scare anyone from going to an otherwise great lunch spot, but in the interest of my integrity I'll reveal the sad truth: My table had a wobble. I know. I know. What could be worse than a wobble? Especially when you're lunching with a date, like I was! You look to your man seductively: "Darling," you say, leaning forward onto one elbow, coquettishly batting your lashes. And JOLT! All your food slams to one side of the table, set on a rampaging course by your uneven table! Disoriented, you lean back. "I was wondering, maybe later," you start, hurriedly leaning back in your seat to pretend you hadn't just destroyed the perfect placing of the restaurant's student chefs. And CRASH! The table rebalances itself, and your food comes sliding back to its original location. "You could come over," you finish, delicately doing a lady like shift which puts one foot propped up on the corner of the table, showing off your hopefully shaven legs and perfect manicure while holding the table down while you seductively return to your elbow, hopefully keeping the table perfectly even so the two of you can finish your herbed garlic fries. All you wanted was somebody to help you change your light bulb, but now, after this non-overdramatized and definitely accurate portrayal of what a wobble can do to you, you're both too grumpy to handle any maintenance at all. Minus 3.

To conclude this review, I'd like to definitely recommend that you try Barron's BRB Diner, and if you have any positive feedback you can email it to arbitrarycriticism@live.com and if you have any negative feedback you can keep it to yourself!