A FIND IN FRIENDSWOOD
Kris Jakob is at his playful best, turning out rarified Texas fare at ambitious Brasserie 1895
Much of what I admire about chef Kris Jakob pops forth from the Caesar salad he serves at his first restaurant, the surprising and delightful Brasserie 1895 in Friendswood.
Instead of the usual, dutiful romaine (or the dreaded kale) trotted out by all and sundry, Jakob sends out pale arcs of baby bok choy that crunch beneath his snappy Caesar dressing. The crouton involved is a rough, rustic hunk of his housemade country boule. And lo, beneath the greens, thin lengths of fermented cucumber lurk in a kimchi-style puddle. It’s a Caesar with a sense of humor and a sly sense of Texas Creole place, thanks to the red-chile tweak by a Korean-American staffer who drives clear across the greater metropolitan area to work with Jakob. And like all the dishes at
Brasserie 1895 — which is named for the founding date of the southeastern suburb of Friendswood — the salad is constructed with solid classical technique.
That figures. Jakob first made a name for himself at what was then called Kris Bistro, the student-staffed restaurant at the Culinary Institute LeNôtre, where Jakob was a lead instructor. Tucked off a freeway northeast of downtown, the restaurant was always a bit of a sleeper: off the foodie gerbil trails, with a chef who wasn’t part of the hothouse swirl of inner Loop gossip and buzz.
Now that Jakob has launched his own restaurant five minutes from where he lives, in a part of Houston that has had no ambitious restaurant to call its own, he’s still an underrated outsider pursuing his own quirky vision.
Think you’ve seen it all where chicken fried steak is concerned? Try Jakob’s gleefully luxurious 44 Farms flat-iron steak version, marinated in buttermilk and blessed with a cream gravy that’s been fortified with cured foie gras. Crunchy shards of batter and potato purée as satin-smooth as any duchesse form the backdrop, and an unexpected tart twinge of carrots and red onion escabeche make the whole dish jump, thanks to a stealth note of jalapeño.
This is the kind of rarified Texas fare that would not have flown at Kris Bistro, where regional touches had to sneak in on the back of mostly French ideas. At Brasserie 1895, such playfulness is par for the course. When a gorgeously layered vuelve a la vida shrimp cocktail arrives in its glass goblet, the first impression of pearly and perfectly poached Gulf shrimp in a racy tomato salsa gives way to a “what’s this?” moment as flavors of mango and watermelon and cucumber kick in, all diced as meticulously as if Alain Passard himself were back in the kitchen.
At first the combination seems like it’s tilting too sweet. Then swirls of rich avocado and currents of habanero heat even things out, and soon the goblet is empty.
That’s a theme that repeats here. Lush smoked short rib gets a gingery sauerbraten sauce that might be too sweet, were it not for electric jolts of pickled red onion, jalapeño and cilantro. Just add resilient little twists of spatzle, the dumplings that are a tribute to Jakob’s background in the German farming community of Poteet, and it all makes sense.
So do many of the puckish ideas here, when you consider Jakob’s history. As a child, he worked and played mostly with the children of Mexican farmworkers who came through Poteet seasonally. (“I thought I was Mexican,” Jakob recalls.) As a student at the University of Texas, he started a catering business that he sold in order to go to culinary school, where he was taught by Belgian chef Christian Echterbille. The two have worked together off and on (mostly on) ever since, in Austin and Belgium and now, coming full circle, in Friendswood, where “chef Bill” is in the kitchen every day.
So the Brasserie’s sturdy, satisfying quiche laced with leek and bacon is not really out of place alongside such notions as housemade tamales stuffed with queso or raisins and poblano chile, then pooled in a fragrant squash purée that splits the difference between sauce and soup. The masa for the tamales is the real deal, made by a valued Mexican staffer.
Even the eccentricity of the dining room’s DIY décor starts to make sense once you experience its comforts. From a seat in a plush plum-upholstered armchair or at the convivial bar, which is made for impromptu drop-ins or solo diners, the violet, gray and black color scheme soothes, and even the mix of flickering carriage lamps and birdcage-enclosed chandeliers begins to charm, just as the wild array of flowery vintage china does.
The menu changes with the season and the market, which keeps things even more interesting. One night, I encountered a grilled elk chop in one of the deep, dizzying, red-winy demi-glaces that Jakob does so well, escorted by a Hill Country fleet of spatzle and red cabbage. That same evening saw a special of profound lobster bisque, ringing with cognac and longsimmered shells, and sent out under a pastry crust. It has since found a place on the menu.
Not every last idea works. I was puzzled by a huge, curiously dry slab of pork belly that hulked alongside a brunch dish of sweet potato pancake, overwhelming the poor thing. I wanted the puffy, crisp-crusted pancake to have pride of place. And while I respected the “winter stew” of lamb rogan josh with red lentil mash and house-made naan, it came off as a pale South Asian wannabe rather than a persuasive bit of Modern Texas Creole cuisine.
Yet curry-tinged Wagyu tartare was a precisely composed smash that same evening; and textbook tempura shrimp with spicy ponzu and green mango salad had all the authority one could wish. So did a tricky candied bacon slice at brunch, the thick slab a nod to Jakob’s wellestablished charcuterie talents with its deft balance of salt and sweet, its meringue-like pistachio crumble summoning up the legendary pastry program of the Culinary Institute LeNôtre.
Bringing all these disparate culinary threads together is an engagingly personal wine and beer list that is both well-priced and suited to the food. There are few upscale Houston restaurants where a good bottle of wine can be had for around $30, or an interesting wine by the glass for under 10 bucks, and Brasserie 1895 is one of them. The tap selection of craft beers is a mix of local, national and Belgian, in keeping with Jakob’s and Echterbille’s shared history in that country.
I doubt very much that Brasserie 1895 will ever bore me, or that I will ever stop making the pilgrimage to Friendswood to see what’s new on Jakob’s menu. In this critic’s world, there is no higher compliment.