So a snob walks into Perry's Baybrook

On a red-hot Sunday afternoon at 4 30 pm, I presented myself to the host desk of Perry's Steakhouse & Grille at the Baybrook Mall.

Not my usual stomping grounds, but I was there for a birthday party. Or so I thought. The kind young women manning the books told me the gathering had been canceled. I had forgotten to check my emails before I left home.

There I stood, crestfallen, in a restaurant I would not have chosen on my own.

I think of Perry's—which I have known since its 1980s butcher-shop days— as a perfectly decent family-owned mini chain of steakhouses that can't really compete with my faves: the sainted Pappas Bros. downtown; Doris Metropolitan, with its tantalizing Levantine touches; Killen's Pearland flagship on a good night.

I'm not a restaurant snob in the sense that I must have the fancy-schmanciest this or the chillest that. But I am snobbish about wanting the best examples of whatever cuisine I'm seeking, high or low. In my experience, suburban mall restaurants seldom provide that.

Still, Perry's air conditioning was blessedly cool as I stood in the lobby wondering what to do. The trudge back to my car would be unpleasant. "I'll stay and eat at the bar," I suddenly told the hostesses.

Thus began an evening that upended my very modest expectations. By a lot. Locally-owned Perry's expansion boom to cities around the country seems to have spurred them to up their game. It's not so much a mini-chain anymore—I mean they're in the well-to-do Chicago suburb of Oak Brook and a grand Gothic-Revival tower in Austin—so management may have taken some cues from the wider net they've cast.

They've dedicated a subsection of their steak menu to a koji marination process I was surprised to see—that's the Asian method of curing foods in an ancient species of mold, Aspergillus oryzae, that's used to add depth of flavor to fermented bean pastes, soy sauce, miso, sake and rice wines.

Oh, and beef. Did I mention beef? An Austin friend roasted a koji-marinated prime rib for Christmas about five years back, and its robust umami kick had bowled me over. I couldn't resist checking out Perry's new-to-me koji game.

"I'm gonna just have fun," I swore to myself. I ordered what I wanted rather than what a hoity toity critic would choose. Caesar salad! Low-prestige filet, scorned by beef aficionados who swear the bone-in cuts (ribeye, strip) have bigger, richer flavor.

Hell, I might even have cheesecake for dessert, and a house red wine!

Guess what? My meal was absolutely swell--especially the memorable 8-ounce koji-cured filet, served gorgeously rare with a side of béarnaise I didn't even end up needing. The tenderloin was darkly rimmed with the mushroomy/fruity koji-layer funk that gave the beef its surprising depth and presence. The texture? Tender, sure, but with a resilience that was more like the dry-aged filet I've eaten at Pappas downtown. Not girly or butter-soft. Serious.

I admired the bounce of my Caesar salad, too, with its punchy-tart dressing and clever scatter of toasted sunflower seeds for extra crunch. Would I have liked the anchovies worked into the dressing's emulsion rather than presented as an option on top? Well, yeah. But this was a salad for the people, not the snobs, and I liked it fine.

I chortled to myself a little when my chosen side appeared before me. It was a child's dream: buttery-smooth whipped potatoes with all the "loaded stuff" piled on willy-nilly: melted cheddar, sour cream, bacon, green onions. Will it replace the multitextural baked potato in my affections? It will not. But this was nursery food at its finest, and just the kind of succor I required in my hour of need.

As were two surprisingly good examples of Perry's small house wines program, just a fraction of their Wine Spectator-approved list. First came a graceful pinot noir that took the edge off my disrupted plans and the bumptious Caesar; then a richer, darker Cabernet that did exactly the job I needed it to do with the koji and the beef.

The fact that both these 5-ounce pours of wine were 9 bucks —thanks to Perry's extensive Happy Hour initiative—made them even more appealing. That all this was delivered by the kindest, friendliest service this woman of a certain age has ever received while dining solo at a bar made the experience stick in the memory.

Even a vividly—no, a fearsomely—orange-geléed and sauced round of vanilla cheesecake couldn't scare me off. It was kinda fun in its very emphatic way. My tab? With tax and generous (deserved!) tip, $155 for an evening of utter self indulgence.

So that's my story and I'm sticking to it. I had dinner at Perry's Steakhouse & Grille Baybrook and I liked it. I drove home happy. I considered it money well spent on myself. I'd do it all over again should the occasion arise.