Subjected to the light of day, Sarah Palin doesn't look like a maverick at all.
Exposing a construction-site scam only a San Francisco cop could love.
Ronald Taylor is one of perhaps hundreds of innocent people Harris County has put in prison.
Sloppy U.S. government paperwork is putting the lives of asylum seekers at risk.
I'm a sucker for grilled lamb, and Sloan's racy rack was exceptionally tender and flavorful — so good, in fact, that I couldn't take a bite of the dessert that Bob insisted on tasting, a wine-poached pear dressed up with balsamic syrup, crunchy pistachios and blue cheese.
My second visit was the one with Walt, a man of unfussy tastes who couldn't be lured by the idea of roasted duck breast with blueberry pan sauce or risotto Milanese with balsamic-marinated cipollini onions.
"Don't they have a steak?" he asked.
They did. Another 14-ounce ribeye, this time slathered with pancetta butter. Walt didn't want that much beef, so the staff graciously found a smaller slab, an 11-ounce cut, for him and even sliced it up back in the kitchen. "It's kind of fatty," Walt said after a few bites. I took a taste and thought it was wonderful, but I vastly preferred what turned out to be an extraordinarily good pork loin chop, prepared saltimbocca-style, stuffed with prosciutto, sage and luscious, slow-ripened Grana Padano cheese.
Walt and I shared a wonderful old-fashioned dessert, a hot apple crisp with fat slices of the real forbidden fruit in a bubbling caramel sauce, blanketed with a crispy pastry-crumble topping. While Walt nibbled at his portion, I tried not to stare at the middle-aged couple unabashedly smooching at the next table.
"Maybe this restaurant isn't so uptight after all," I whispered to Walt. And then I noticed a well-dressed senior citizen at another table, giving an evil eye to the lusty lovers.
At the bigger Room 39, there's room for everyone: the good, the bad and the hoity-toity.