Remembering the city’s lost restaurants
In era of chasing latest dining trends, book resurrects joys of long-gone treasures — and reveals city’s diversity through food
WHEN Paul Galvani set out to tally the list of restaurants that have shuttered in Houston, he stopped counting at 850. He’s convinced that number represents only a fraction of restaurants that have come and gone since the city was founded in 1836.
Only local dining scholars will recognize the names of some of Houston’s first eating establishments: Round Tent Saloon, Mansion House, T.J. Prindle’s Exchange Restaurant, Perkin’s Corner, Houston Oyster Depot, Lang’s Oyster Parlor, Big Casino Restaurant and Saloon, Genora’s White Kitchen and Broetzmann’s Oyster and Chile Parlor. They’ve all gone the way of the horse-drawn buggy.
But they’re not forgotten. At least not in “Lost Restaurants of Houston” (The History Press), written by Galvani and his wife, Christiane Galvani. The recently published book, part of a series of “Lost Restaurants” titles, begins with Rockwell & Souters, the first documented Houston restaurant the authors could find. The year was 1848: “Their tables are always supplied with the choicest Viands, Meats … served up with neatness and perfect cleanliness … (and the) best oysters from the beds of Galveston Bay” read an advertisement. Quality food and conditions, however, weren’t enough to sustain Rockwell & Souters, which eventually folded.
Some of Houston’s shuttered restaurants enjoyed long rides and popularity — think Felix Mexican, The Green Parrot Antone’s Import Co., Hebert’s Ritz, Joe Matranga’s, Kaphan’s, Maxim’s, One’s a Meal, Sonny Look’s, Trader Vic’s, Valian’s, Vargo’s, Ye Old College Inn and Youngblood’s Fried Chicken. The Galvanis resurrect the joys of these culinary treasures, and others, whose obits have long since been written.
Work on the book, which took the Galvanis a good chunk of last year, came at a time when the Houston restaurant scene was expanding in overdrive mode — as it continues to do.
“Everyone is looking for the new in Houston (today),” said Paul, the senior vice president for Riviana Foods who has written for a number of Houston media outlets, including the Chronicle. “Sometimes you have to go back to see
where we’ve been.”
That look back tracks the birth of a metropolis and the many establishments that fed the growing city. The book notes that Houston’s reputation for dining out with gusto didn’t become in vogue until the 1950s. Soon food went from being a chore to being fun.
“In the early days of Houston, going out was purely functional, with mainly men eating out at lunch. Social dining, or dining out as entertainment, was not something Houstonians did at that time,” the authors write. “By the mid-1950s, people went out to eat to celebrate special family occasions and mark business events — pretty much the same reasons we go out to eat today for what could be considered an important meal. What’s different about today is that people go out to eat much more often and not just for important meals. We go out because we can, because eating out in Houston is relatively cheap and the number of different offerings is simply enormous.”
The book notes that ethnic restaurants have long been part of the Houston dining scene. Of the 48 restaurants listed in the Houston City Directory in 1899, more than a third served ethnic food — at the time, there were nine Chinese restaurants, six chili stands and two French restaurants. The city’s immigrant culture also did much to shape the way we eat here now.
“Immigrant stories are interesting stories. Through our food, you find that diversity goes way back,” Houston food historian David Leftwich said. “In a city where we don’t always remember our history or know our history, I always find it fascinating to be reminded about the way we were.”
The Galvanis profile 24 restaurants, including long-gone places such as The Pig Stand, San Jacinto Inn, Alfred’s Delicatessen, Bud Bigelow’s, Confederate House and one of Christiane’s favorite places for breakfast, Triple A Café. One of the more fascinating chapters is the story of Maxim’s, the opulent French restaurant founded in 1950 that helped teach Houston how to eat snails, duck livers and lobster thermidor. The socialite-fueled party died when the son of the restaurant’s founder sold it in 2001.
There are many reasons restaurants fail, said Chris Tripoli, president of Houston-based A’la Carte Foodservice Consulting Group — under-capitalization, insufficient parking, changing tastes and trends, and owners who die without a succession plan. But the chief culprit is an ill-defined concept, Tripoli said. “They try to do too much, and that makes it difficult for the customer to accept as a concept,” he said. “Trying to offer a little bit of everything to everyone means you’re offering nothing special to no one.”
Within the storytelling of lost restaurants, the Galvanis also list beloved Houston restaurants that have managed to stay in business for decades, including Houston’s oldest restaurant, Christie’s Seafood and Steaks, founded in 1917. Other stalwarts: James Coney Island (1923), Yale St. Grill (1923), Pizzitola’s Bar-BCue (1934), Avalon Diner (1938), Lankford’s Grocery & Market (1938), Cleburne Cafeteria (1941), Molina’s Cantina (1941) and Barbecue Inn (1946).
Christiane laments that today’s fickle foodies are constantly chasing the new and trendy restaurants instead of patronizing the city’s reliable icons.
“If foodies don’t go to the classics,” she said, “there’s no question, they’ll wind up in the book.”