RETRO DINING: MAI’S RESTAURANT

Mai’s Restaurant, located on the edge of downtown at 3402 Milam Street, was established in 1978 by Phin and Phac Nguyen.  Mai is the name of one of their eight children, and it was chosen for the restaurant’s name based on its ease of pronunciation.  It was also chosen for its symbolic meaning — Mai means “golden flower,” which represents prosperity and luck.  When her parents retired in 1990, the restaurant was handed over to Mai.  In 2010, the restaurant was destroyed by fire.  The restaurant was rebuilt on the same property, where it continues to serve up Vietnamese food to loyal patrons in an attractive setting accentuated with celadon walls and seat cushions.

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mai's interior

Vietnamese food is currently enjoying popularity in Houston, with scores of Vietnamese restaurants around the city, no longer confined to Asian communities.  Vermicelli bowls, pho, and banh mi sandwiches are familiar and inexpensive meals.  But when Mai’s opened its doors in 1978, Vietnamese food was not nearly as well known, and was even considered a little adventuresome.  Many Houstonians — myself included — had their first taste of Vietnamese cuisine at Mai’s.

A popular appetizer for sharing is the Goi Cuon Ga — two spring rolls stuffed with vermicelli, lettuce, bean sprouts, and grilled chicken, served with peanut dipping sauce.

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Grilled Chicken Spring Rolls

The Cha Gio — four fried Vietnamese eggrolls — is another popular appetizer, and comes with lettuce leaves and fresh herbs to wrap around the crispy little treats, before dipping them in the accompanying fish sauce-based dipping sauce:

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 Crispy Vietnamese Eggrolls 

The extensive menu has lots of options, including stir fries, vermicellis, and of course, pho, but for my family, two dishes on the menu reign supreme.  The first is Bo Luc Lac, also known as Garlic Beef, and is one of Mai’s signature dishes.  It consists of tender cubes of seasoned and marinated filet mignon, stir-fried with garlic, onion, bell pepper, and jalapeno, and served over a bed of lettuce and tomato with a lime-jalapeno vinaigrette dressing, accompanied by a side dish of rice.  You can add broccoli, asparagus, snow peas, and mushrooms to the mix (which I highly recommend) for $3 apiece, or $9 for all four.  The colorful dish is large enough to share among several people, who will undoubtedly end up fighting over the soft cloves of garlic hiding among the vegetables.

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Garlic Beef

The other dish is Vietnamese Fajitas, which falls into the category of what I call interactive food.  First, a large bowl of warm water (not for finger washing!) and a dish of dry rice paper wrappers arrives.  This is followed by a large platter of thinly-sliced grilled meats (we prefer the pork and flank steak combo) topped with fried onions, scallions, and toasted peanuts over pressed vermicelli, accompanied by a pile of fresh vegetables and herbs including romaine lettuce leaves, sliced cucumber, shredded carrots, bean sprouts, mint, cilantro, and basil.  To make your “fajita,” you briefly dip the rice paper in the water to soften it, then pile your ingredients on, and roll it up like a burrito.  There’s dipping sauce, too, if you so desire.

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Vietnamese Fajitas

So much fun to roll your own!

So what’s the secret to Mai’s longevity?  Above all, it’s the consistent food — fresh, fast, and reasonably priced (although not cheap compared to other Vietnamese restaurants around town).  The restaurant’s hours have no doubt helped it to develop a rather unique group of loyal patrons — it’s open until 3 a.m. Monday through Thursday, and 4 a.m. on Friday and Saturday (for those nights when no matter how many Jack-in-the-Box tacos you order, it just won’t kill the munchies).  With the proliferation of Vietnamese restaurants in the past few years, I can’t help but wonder if the forced remodeling after the fire actually helped Mai’s to sustain its popularity.  It’s a clean, comfortable restaurant, and a great place to introduce someone to Vietnamese food for the first time.

Mai's on Urbanspoon

RETRO DINING: MOELLER’S BAKERY

Moeller’s Bakery, located at 4201 Bellaire Blvd., has been serving up delectable baked goods since 1930.

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The bakery is located in a modest, nondescript building.  What the building lacks in design, however, is made up for with the vivid seasonal murals painted on the windows, such as this Easter one:

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And this tribute to the armed forces for Memorial Day:

004 (2)Inside, the bakery cases are filled with temptations of all kinds. There’s mouth-watering kolaches, rolls, and breakfast pastries:

005A variety of cookies next to delicate cheese straws:

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For a special treat, there’s colorful iced cookies:

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The themed cakes waiting to be picked up will make you want to have a party of your own:

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Forgot to plan ahead?  There’s always a choice of cakes waiting to be decorated just for you (of course, they taste just as good unadorned):

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But the thing for which Moeller’s is known throughout the city–maybe throughout the state–is its petit fours:

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You can choose from white petit fours:

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Or chocolate petit fours:

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Moeller’s petit fours consist of a rectangle of airy cake — two or three bites’ worth — enrobed in a poured fondant glaze that has the slightest crackle when you bite into it, topped with a little icing flower.  I’ve seen them at parties with custom monograms, although personally, I think the flowers are prettier.  (Monogrammed food can be kind of pretentious, don’t you think?)  The petit fours are $1.95 apiece for white, $2.35 for chocolate.  (The staff was not sure why the difference in price, just that it’s always been that way — let’s just assume it’s because they use high-quality cocoa powder.)  The bakery sells 40 to 50 dozen of these per day during the week, and 200 dozen per day on the weekends.  200 DOZEN!  Forget cupcakes and macarons — I think if anyone was paying attention, the next baking trend would be petit fours.

The secret to Moeller’s longevity is obvious to me.  Every time I enter the bakery, I become a kid again.  I want one of every cookie in the shop, and a birthday cake with my name (not my age) spelled out in bright pink icing.  I  can never decide between white or chocolate petit fours, or how many to buy, so I buy half of each and always too many, which turns out to be never enough.  I love that the ladies behind the counter call me “Honey” or “Sweetie” and are infinitely patient as I vacillate between which goodies to buy.  It’s glass display cases and white cake boxes and linoleum and baker’s twine all rolled up into a timeless Houston treasure.