There are few things more humbling for a critic than to pop off in a wild burst of enthusiasm for a restaurant, only to return later and realize, uh-oh. Reza Persian Grill, a good-looking and hospitable kabob specialist in the Mahatma Gandhi District, recently reminded me that there’s a reason not to leap to conclusions after a single visit, no matter how much it wowed you.
So mea culpa for my Top 100 Houston restaurant paean for Reza, a last-minute add to the list. Don’t get me wrong, I like the place and would return, but not all starry-eyed, the way I walked out after my first meal there.
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A friend and I had arrived when the doors opened at 11 a.m. We sat in a sunny window, gawked at the 21st-century chandeliers, admired the dining room’s subdued tones, clean lines and planters full of greenery. We exclaimed over the buoyant frothiness of the not-too-sweet mint lemonade as we debated which of the special kabob combos to order, so as to try a variety of grilled meats.
When our R4 Specialty Platter arrived, I quickly grabbed one of the bone-in lamb chops for a bite, not even bothering with knife and fork. There is something primal about kabobs, with their charcoal-y outdoor singe, that unleashes the primitive eater in me. And wow, that first bite: my eyes widened at the pop of meat juices; the rosy interior that signaled the chop hadn’t been cooked to distraction, as so many are; the rich, round tones of the lamb fat cut by a bit of char.
That lamb chop — arguably the trickiest item on the plate to get right — was fabulous. Then, a few bites into a skewered chicken tender, I marveled to my tablemate, “This is superb.” That’s a sentence that escapes my lips maybe twice a year. And about chicken, no less!
Chicken is the also-ran protein in my usual pantheon, but in that moment, it was a star: glossed with a golden saffron glaze; seething with juices; untamed by the grill. We split a long skewer of crimped ground-beef patty, beef kobideh, with an oniony current that made it taste homey, like meatloaf in a springier form.
We demolished all this with a heap of that looooong-grained Basmati rice that Iranian cooks seem to have perfected, each grain distinct and light on its feet, a handful on top tinted ochre with saffron. The platter came with my favorite kind of Persian rice, a version strewn with sweet-and-sour dried cranberries, Reza’s stand-in for the more Old World barberries or sour cherries.
We had a cool, tart yogurt dip, mast o moosir, another element of my ideal kabob meal. Reza’s version did not have the full, savory allium tones I look for in this Persian shallot dip, but the yogurt did its job. So did the grilled tomato halves, onion hunks and green peppers on the platter, although I wished all of the vegetables had spent longer on the grill.
5714 Hillcroft, 832-804-6160
Food: Homey Iranian cooking and kabobs that can be superb at their best but are subject to over-grilling at times.
Vibe: Warm, contemporary and casual gathering place for Houston’s Persian community, as well as diners with an affinity for the cuisine.
Hours: Lunch and dinner daily. 11 a.m.-10 p.m. Monday-Thursday; 11 a..m.-11 p.m. Friday-Saturday; noon-10 p.m. Sunday
Prices: First courses $4.99-$9.99; entrées $11.99-$27.99; specialty platters $18.99-$28.99; family platters $72.99-$164.99.
Reservations: Walk-ins welcome; or book by calling 832-804-6160.
Who’s there: Families, students, Persian-food enthusiasts, Iranian businessmen chatting over pots of hot tea at their regular tables.
What to order: Chicken or beef kobideh kabobs; chicken tender kabobs; R4 specialty platter with cranberry rice; mixed stews with tahdig; kashk e bademjan, a hot eggplant appetizer; yogurt with cucumber and mint. Take a chance on the mint lemonade.
Service: Friendly and accommodating.
Mixtape: Iranian hip-hop and other Middle Eastern sounds.
Noise level: Moderate.
Parking: Big free lot in front, although it can get crowded at peak times.
Outdoor seating options: There’s a handful of small table on the front sidewalk.
Ventilation: High-ceilinged, spacious dining room that feels like it has good airflow.
We tried the two house stews on a combo plate (nice option!) with a by-request bed of tahdig, the rice that’s crusty and browned on the bottom from the pan it’s cooked in (even nicer option!). Ghormeh sabzi was the green one, its hunks of beef shoulder and kidney beans threaded with spinach and seasoned with fenugreek leaves, chives and dried lime. The red one, gheymeh bademjan, featured eggplant braised with tomato paste as a base for beef and yellow split peas. Both had the comforting, fortifying effect of home cooking, and the crunchy rafts of browned rice put the whole thing over the top.
OK, I’d had better plate-size orbs of Persian flatbread before; and more impressive fresh-herb, radish and feta plates to go along. But Reza’s did their mixing and matching job both as an appetizer and as accents to our meal. The hospitality could not have been nicer or more accommodating — the restaurant is family owned and really does feel familial. The sparse early crowd gave way to a bustling, varied gang of diners ranging from young families to students to Persian businessmen with the practiced, comfortable air of regulars.
Factor in the remarkable kabobs, and I left walking on air.
On visits two and three, reality crept in. A very early Friday dinner produced kabobs less juicy and thrilling — including a chicken barg, the traditional pounded style of chicken breast that is less apt to produce succulent results than that unpounded chicken tender from my first meal. (It’s available here for a dollar more than the barg.)
The bread was poufier and more alive, though — maybe that first-of-the-day, 11 a.m. specimen had been like the proverbial first pancake? — and a skewer of chicken kobideh made me plenty happy. So did my swap-out of yogurt with cucumber and mint, livelier than the shallot version from visit one. I left pleased enough and soothed enough, just as the place began filling up in earnest for dinner.
Alas, my 7 p.m. prime-time dinner visit was a dud. Our kabobs hit the table so fast, and were so drearily overgrilled and juiceless, that they seemed to have been precooked for the dinner rush and then seared again at the last minute. Lamb chops gray and lifeless; the formerly glorious chicken tenders dry-ish and uninviting — only the sturdy kobideh minced patties resembled their earlier incarnations.
And what on earth had happened to the mint lemonade? It was so clogged with green mint gunk it looked like a kale health shake, and the tart lift of earlier versions was off too. Still, there was one pleasant surprise in the form of khashk e bademjan, the sultry hot eggplant dip that on my initial, first-of-the day visit emerged with mucilaginous texture I’d rather not think about. I love this dish, with its caramelized onion and garlic tones, so I was relieved to find it in good form.
Still, I kept apologizing to my dinner guests for telling them we’d have the best kabobs in town, especially when the pounded, leathery flaps of beef barg arrived. Our server called them “filet,” which made me sad at their fate.
My takeaway is this: Reza can be great if you arrive when they open for business and are hustling to send out the first kabobs of the day. Things can go south during the busiest times.
Overall, the wonderfully pleasant welcome and service enhance the food when it’s good, and take the edge of disappointment off when it’s not. So, too, does the lively human scene of a room filled with happy regulars. I’m sadder but wiser, but I know I’ll be back.