Restaurants: Maverick

I really, really wanted to like Maverick. (I really did.) But I didn't.

I first came across Maverick while walking through the neighborhood one day about a year and a half ago. I remember thinking “hmmmm... nice space, promising menu.” After that, though, Maverick pretty much vanished from my consciousness. (My attention span is admittedly short, and there are a lot restaurants in this city competing for attention in my fickle Gemini brain.) I was invited there for brunch this past weekend, though, and was looking forward to finally experiencing that which was just a distant memory.

Walking in to Maverick on that Sunday morning (especially after overindulging a bit the night before) was a bit like walking into a Looney Tunes episode featuring Yosemite Sam trying to off Bugs Bunny with a cast-iron skillet – frenetic, jarring and ear-splittingly loud. As I mentioned before, the space is nice, but it could do with a few soft surfaces to reduce the din. We were seated at a table near the front of the restaurant near the window. It was a nice location, but the sun was beating down on the glass, making our section of the room extremely warm, even with the shades down. (It was only after our meal was over did I realize that they have several ceiling fans in the room, only one of which was turned on.)

Our friends had already been seated for 20 minutes and were enjoying the Maverick Blackberry Mimosa with house-made Washington blackberry syrup when my date and I arrived. I did not order one of the mimosas for myself but had a taste of someone else’s; it was delicious. Things were looking up. Immediately upon opening the menu, my eyes fell upon the homemade donut holes, at which point a battle raged between the devil on my left shoulder and the angel on my right shoulder while I debated whether or not to order them. Thankfully, the decision was made for me; 2 orders were already on their way to the table. (But wait, our table had already been seated for 20 minutes and the donut holes hadn't arrived yet? Hmmmm....)

When the donut holes finally did arrive, they were heavenly; hot, crispy, tender and dusted liberally with cinnamon sugar. I was very glad there were only 2 per person, because I could have easily eaten an entire order. (They were especially good dipped in Maverick's strong, full-bodied coffee.)

There were three Breakfast Plates on the menu that looked intriguing: the Cajun Scramble (eggs, andouille sausage and scallions served with grits and a biscuit), the Texan Migas (scrambled eggs, tortilla strips, tomato, roasted chilis, pico de gallo, home fries), and the Torta (a sandwich of bacon, eggs, cheese and home fries). After going back and forth about 5 times, I settled on the Cajun Scramble. I wish I hadn’t. When something is billed as “Cajun” on a menu, I expect the flavors to be bold. This scramble was just boring. The eggs were overcooked, and if there were, in fact, scallions in the scramble, they were used with such restraint that they were virtually undetectable. The grits had a nice flavor and were creamy enough but had developed a tough skin, hinting that they might have been sitting under a heat lamp for a while before arriving at our table. The biscuit was disappointing as well. In my dreams, biscuits are light, buttery and flaky; Mavericks were tough, dense, and lacking in salt (and consequently, flavor). Fortunately, everyone at the table who didn't have the Cajun Scramble had good things to say about what they ordered: the Eggs Benedict, Torta, and Biscuits and Gravy. (Apparently the biscuits fared better when covered with something that tempered their texture and added some flavor.)

Normally, I would absolutely give a restaurant a second try after an experience like this. After all, most establishments have an off day or a dish that doesn’t work and subsequently gets taken off the menu. But the service was so excruciatingly slow that I don’t think I could handle another brunch at Maverick. I’m fine with leisurely service, especially on a Sunday morning, but I don’t like having to ask for my beverages several times. I also don’t like going from feeling mildly hungry to having a full-blown Linda Blair head-spinning-around blood sugar mood swing while waiting for my meal. To be fair, the staff at Maverick was very, very nice, but they were clearly overwhelmed. They’ve been open more than long enough to have worked the kinks out of any staffing problems, so I thought at first maybe they were just short-staffed that day. From what other people at my table told me, though, ours was not an isolated experience. (They had had the same experience a few weeks earlier.)

It's a shame, because the Pecan Crusted French Toast looked dreamy.

★ ★

Maverick
3316 17th Street
San Francisco, CA 94110
(415) 863-3061

(Originally written 01/29/2007)