Alison Cook offers a remembrance of Brennan’s Restaurant, which burned down while Ike was in town.
I guess I thought Brennan’s of Houston would always be there, a timeless bubble of ease and cordiality in a world where such qualities are vanishing. I counted on the welcome that enfolded those who passed beneath the famous burgundy awning at 3300 Smith. Just beyond the heavy, old-fashioned doors, a phalanx of smiling staffers waited to greet you as if you were the most important person in the world, whether you were a restaurant critic or (as I was on my first visit around 1972) an impecunious kid straight out of college, sharing with my younger sister a Thanksgiving dinner we could ill afford.
I can only recall eating at Brennan’s once, at a vintner’s dinner in 2004 with Tiffany and three friends from Trinity. I can pinpoint the date because it was during the American League Championship Series between the Yankees and the Red Sox – I stole away from the table a couple of times to check the score. That was one of the games the Yankees won, so it made the evening that much better. But the food and the service were really good, and we’d been talking about doing something like that again some day. I hope they do rebuild so we get the opportunity. Houston is a more interesting place with Brennan’s in it.
I never liked Brennan’s that much. Possibly because actually I always felt treated a bit shabbily there. First visit, I pulled up in my car in front of the valet station and was ignored. After a while I approached them to ask how I got my car parked – and they said “oh – YOU are planning to eat HERE?”. My car was about 11 years old but clean and well maintained, and I was dressed in professional clothing and presumably also clean and well-maintained. I was pretty irritated and haven’t really overcome that first impression of the place.