I have mourned the loss of
Odd Duck Farm to Trailer ever since it closed two years ago. It was once one of my favorite examples of how restaurant-quality food could be produced in a teeny, tiny, mobile space. Sure, there was
Barley Swine to fill in some of the void (the brick and mortar owned by Odd Duck's chef-owner,
Bryce Gilmore), but it just wasn't the same.
So I was excited when
Odd Duck itself rose from the ashes (an odd duck rising from the ashes doesn't produce quite the same imagery as a phoenix, but I digress). This incarnation of Odd Duck is, like its swine-y sister, also a brick and mortar. Given our relatively-chilly December, perhaps this is a good thing, as it allowed me to hurry right in to check it out.
The large kitchen is the heart and the centerpiece of this restaurant. I've been loving the open kitchen trend - as long as your party consists of no more than two people, you don't sacrifice conversation by sitting at the bar, but you gain an entire layer of entertainment. Watching the beautifully-orchestrated ballet at Odd Duck entranced me. Nobody in the kitchen seemed to talk. Nobody seemed the slightest bit flustered or in much of a hurry. Yet dish after dish seemed to magically appear from within.
Behind the Scenes
I started with a Moscow Mule, a favorite cocktail of mine. Odd Duck's version has a nice bite, likely owing to the fact that the ginger beer they use is made in-house. My friend's Aunt Polly (Wahaka mezcal, elderflower, and ghost chili (!!)) also had a not-insubstantial kick to it. I enjoyed the fact that our drinks made our taste buds stand up and take notice, as if priming our palates for the meal to come.
Moscow Mule
The food got off to a bit of a slow start with the Turnip Salad. Not bad, but not special, either, and the bizarre presentation of this tiny, $8 salad crawling up the side of a metal mixing bowl just didn't do it for me. It looked for all the world like somebody had accidentally knocked the bowl over and then decided to serve it anyway.
Turnip Salad
Things started looking up when the Charred Broccoli ($8) arrived. The broccoli is surrounded by this amazing scrambled egg that's so soft and flavorful that it was reminiscent of hollandaise sauce. Shreds of sorrel and thin slices of apple rounded out the dish.
Charred Broccoli
The Chicken Fried Chicken Egg ($9) was up next. Bryce Gilmore unquestionably knows how to cook an amazing egg, but honestly, I felt like the egg's perfection was marred just a smidgen by the thick chicken-fried coating. Creative, fun, and very Texas-y, but just give me that perfect egg, please, and skip the trip through the deep fryer (I will take a dollop of that hot sauce, though!)
Chicken Fried Chicken Egg
Runny yumminess (say that five times fast).
I ordered the kohlrabi soup ($7) solely on the rave recommendation of my friend Kristin over at
Mad Betty, whose taste in food I trust immensely. She did not steer me wrong, though I thought the large chunks of very salty bacon were a teeeeeeeny bit ham-fisted (sorry) amongst the other comparatively-delicate flavors of the soup.
Kohlrabi Soup
The textures and flavors at play in the Goat Rolled in Pasta ($12) were wonderful; this was definitely one of my favorites of the meal. The lovely mole sauce made this earthy and comforting dish the perfect plate for a chilly winter evening.
Goat Rolled in Pasta
We finished with the sticky toffee pudding ($9), which was served nestled up against a round of
St. Maure. I would never have thought to pair these two together, but the gentle stinkiness of the cheese added a note of intrigue to the sweet toffee pudding, veering the dessert away from any cloying tendencies it might otherwise have had. The shavings on top were pickled apple, which helped cut some of the richness of the other ingredients.
Sticky Toffee Pudding
My first visit to Odd Duck definitely won't be my last; there were many other offerings on the menu that I wanted to try, but for which we unfortunately lacked stomach space. The atmosphere had a pleasant energy; the kitchen show and food were delightful; and service was attentive (maybe a hair too attentive; our waiter insisted on touching our backs every single time he came by, sometimes multiple times in one visit. We interpreted this as friendly, not flirtatious - yet if back-touching had been a drinking game, we would have been sloshed by the time we left).
I still miss the Odd Duck of days gone by; I think this Odd Duck resembles Barley Swine more than it does Odd Duck Farm to Trailer. But it's a welcome addition to Austin's dining scene, nonetheless.
Odd Duck Restaurant
1201 South Lamar Boulevard
Austin, TX 78704
(512) 433-6521
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