Details fuel Killen’s new hot spot
Celebrated chef’s new restaurant boasts informed service, modern Gulf Coast menu executed with flare
Ronnie Killen is known for big food and even bigger flavors at the Pearland steakhouse that put him on the Texas map, and at the world-class barbecue joint he opened down the road. Yet the little things speak volumes at Killen’s STQ, the chef ’s long-awaited foray inside Houston proper.
The deftly folded linen napkin murmurs in quiet beige code from its carefully exposed edge: “Frette,” it reads, which is meant to coax diners into a luxury frame of mind, despite the surroundings of unfinished wood, and the rootsy perfume of woodsmoke in the room.
Meticulous cocktails telegraph good things to come — a letter perfect French 75, a pastel Aviation with a whisper of creme violette; a racy Pisco and Mezcal number animated by lemon, salt and cucumber.
Next might come a delicately assembled appetizer that actually does the increasingly rare job of waking up your palate, so that it’s ready for anything. Wood-grilled little octopus tentacles bouncing off sweettart citrus, maybe, set off by crisp-tender radish and brittle, dark sprigs of mizuna greens. A drizzle of chorizo oil makes the dish something a finicky Spaniard could love.
And what about that iffy-sounding butter lettuce salad that cups pickled red onion and bacon bits, with a flurry of feta crumbles, batons of green apple and candied walnuts nestled along its ruffled folds? It shouldn’t cohere, but in its bracing vinaigrette, it fairly sparkles.
So does one evening’s special starter of rare tuna tacos, the slips of fish tucked into the thinnest, crispest taro shells. Jots of grated cotija, ribbons of red cabbage and dots of black sesame seed give the immaculately fresh tuna life. It’s a little bit tropical, a little bit Asian, very modern Gulf Coast.
This is not the kind of subtlety I expected from a restaurant meant to combine Killen’s steakhouse and barbecue oeuvres — STQ is pronounced Es-Tee-Cue, not “steak” — with a wood-fired grill and a smoker at the heart of its kitchen operations. Yet Killen has long been a demon for details, and I’ve watched him push himself over the 10 years since I first reviewed his steakhouse, polishing and advancing his cuisine.
The payoff is obvious at STQ. Killen has experienced some blow back in recent years as his name (and his PR) became seemingly ubiquitous. He’s pals with J.J. Watt these days, and he can afford to drive a Bentley, but you know what? The guy never
quits. If the details click at his new Houston venture, the immense cuts of meat for which he is famous taste even more gripping. In fact, this is one of the very few restaurants I can think of — anywhere — where I am interested in the giant hunks of protein that tend to occupy the center of American plates.
Hulking beef ribs have become cult items during Houston’s recent barbecue renaissance, but nobody does them better than Killen. It’s as true at his suburban barbecue spot as at STQ. The haunting level of post oak smoke, the sumptuous rendering of the fat, the invigorating salted and peppered crust all conspire to make this beef rib a memorable experience, right down to the dusky sophistication of its espresso-infused juices, which come together in a tight little sauce.
Served on a butcher block, it’s 35 bucks and worth it. I’ve paid more for lesser beef ribs at local barbecue spots. I’d cheerfully spring $42 for the remarkable dry-aged long-bone pork chop, too, which emerges from the wood-grill wearing a fatbasted crust that nearly crackles. This chop has all the gravitas of a fine steak, and more.
Sure, I love the dryaged Prime rib-eye and strip steaks here, woodgrilled to specs, their campfire smokiness intensified by a final, salt-andpeppery sear on cast iron. But I’m just as interested in the voluptuous smoked filet (a cut that often bores me) clad in translucent bonito curls and moored in a consommé that sings of intense meat-andmushroom umami. With its tinge of the sea, it’s like an American dashi.
No surprise, really: Killen always has been good at soups, one of my tests of a kitchen. His soulful black-eyed pea gumbo fortified with smoked pork belly is a modern Houston classic that’s one of a handful of dishes to make the move from Pearland into the city. All new — and quite wonderful — are the lilting smoked Vidalia onion soup and a bisque of tomatoes smoked over hay (“coastal hay,” to be sure). You’d think the miniature grilled cheese sandwich bobbing atop the bisque would be a touch too cute. You’d be wrong.
Not every element of the STQ menu works harmoniously yet. But some of the jangly overseasoning I noted when the restaurant opened four-and-a-half months ago has been tamed. The short rib tamale with brisket chili has calmed nicely. Plump corn-filled ravioli that could stand to have their pasta jackets rolled thinner come in a naturally sweet bath of corn milk, set off by dabs of bacon jam that don’t overdo the sugar.
A jumped-up crab cake that’s a polar opposite of the pure, pearly version at Killen’s Steakhouse marches right up to the brink of over-seasoned, Louisiana-style exuberance and stops short. It’s different from the original, but good in its own right. The same goes for an impeccable slab of wood-grilled Gulf snapper wearing a tumble of crawfish lemon butter that’s more like a frisky étouffée. Again, it stops just short of too-muchness.
I may wish the obligatory Brussels sprouts side dish were less sweet, and that the braised collards with smoked pork breast were less insistently hot and sour, and that the heirloom tomatoes with the very good burrata had a touch of salt or acid to wake their flavors. Yet the superlative fat onion rings and cheese-addled au gratin potatoes for which Killen’s Steakhouse is known are present in fine form, and a tweaked Caesar salad with frizzly wood-grilled margins bears a punchy dressing.
There are suitable wines, including some interesting reds (try the Crozes Hermitage or the Priorat) by the glass. There are the trademark over-the-top Killen desserts, most notably an exhilarating lemonmeringue tart and a bacon tres leches bread pudding so wildly delicious you’ll wonder why nobody thought of it before.
There’s informative service, too, and lots of it. What’s missing? A sense of ease and comfort in the harshly lit, glary dining room. The quick two-month turnaround from the space’s Bramble incarnation may account for the unfinished, lowbudget air that contradicts those opulent Frette linens.
But with capacity crowds that make grabbing an early walk-in seat at the bar a reasonable option, nobody but me seems to mind. Pass me some tuna tacos and I won’t care, either.