Worth noting: Abacus’ sashimi and nigiri prices are higher than those of the best sushi restaurants in Dallas, Yutaka and Uchi.
A couple of pieces of nigiri show off fine freshwater eel ($12), but the pressed sushi with unexciting shrimp and crabmeat ($22) was unimpressive. It’s a satisfying, almost ceviche-like sushi roll that combines tuna inside, salmon on top, slices of roasted pineapple and pico de gallo for a flavor that merges Japan with Yucatan. The Picasso roll ($22 for eight pieces) is Abacus’ most popular, and rightly so. In an effort to save my taste buds, I scraped off more than a teaspoon of wasabi and smeared it on the rim of the plate. It was presented with a graceful, light cucumber slaw, but every slice of sashimi was topped with a pea-sized lump of sinus-clearing fresh wasabi. Consider the specialty Godzilla roll ($21 for eight pieces), on which toro and salmon compete with a “diablo sauce” and slices of jalapeño pepper, some of which retain their seeds.ĭuring summer’s wild salmon season, some Alaskan sockeye sashimi escaped the sushi menu and arrived on the main appetizer list for $20. The honey butter alongside is cloying on anything, but putting it on olive ciabatta might constitute a crime.Īt the sushi bar, on the other hand, the chef prefers to blast diners with heat. In addition to the unnecessary honey alongside that venison steak, there’s a bread service with savory and sweet breads mixed together (think olive ciabatta with blueberry muffins). Kathy Tran Someone in the kitchen is prone to a sweet tooth. The dish hops across international boundaries, but it feels like a set of parts that don’t quite fit together. They’re served on chickpeas coated with cumin and chili powder, with a few pieces of kale roasted until crispy. Another starter shows more of a global influence: Thin Japanese eggplants get sliced in half lengthwise, then expertly tempura-fried ($16). It’s likely the best of the small plates.
The quail appetizer ($20) confirms that Abacus is expert at cooking meats, the bird nearly blackened in a peppery rub and surrounded by fun accents like a miniature poblano-cheddar quesadilla.
#Abacus dallas menu mac
Half of the menu is elegant renditions of Southwestern grilling classics - venison steaks, rib-eyes, quail, mac and cheese - and the other half is sushi. Underneath the lamb chops and atop cauliflower puree was an array of romanesco that was undercooked and hard to pierce with the fork.Ībacus’ identity is confusing.
#Abacus dallas menu plus
Venison came, when I tried it, with poblano cheese grits that offered less flavor than expected, plus a gooey honey-butter sauce too sweet to belong with either the grits or the venison. Two lamb chops are similarly divine and crusted in pecans ($42), but the sides are a problem for both dishes. Best of all is an exceptionally well-cooked venison tenderloin ($43), a bold red medium rare and the tender, simply grilled stuff of meat-fueled dreams. The Texas game side of the menu is the more successful.
Abacus opened when fusion was all the rage, but under new executive chef Chris Patrick, the Texan and Japanese halves of the menu have grown more segregated, with boundary lines more tightly drawn between the kitchen and the sushi bar. The combination doesn’t make sense in theory, and it doesn’t make sense in practice, either, although I observed protein fanatics beginning their meals with sashimi and moving on to steaks. But, over several visits to Abacus in recent weeks, I couldn’t help wondering how much this McKinney Avenue mainstay needs to evolve to stay relevant.Ībacus’ identity is confusing. Even better, the happy hour is one of the best deals in Dallas. Kathy Tran The good news is that the food can still be good, and occasionally great.
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