Cullum’s Attaboy

Cullum's Attaboy plays a strange game and wins it. The room leans diner — paper hats on the staff, faux crystal ice cream dishes, the whole retro apparatus — while the menu splits between French bistro instincts and full American breakfast. That should not work. It does, because the kitchen refuses to pick a lane and executes both sides at full effort instead of splitting the difference.

A single scallop with smoked trout roe shows up before a greasy, unapologetic burger, and somehow both make sense on the same visit. The BEC on brioche and the buttery omelettes hold their own against escargot on the same page. Mom's Cheesecake, served in a slab drowning in berries and syrup, is the kind of dessert that closes the argument rather than just ending the meal. An espresso martini on the side while you wait says exactly what this place thinks of its own contradictions.

Back-to-back Bib Gourmand recognitions and a Beard finalist nod for Best Chef in Texas confirm what the food already argues on its own: this is a kitchen operating at a level its diner clothing doesn't advertise. Go hungry, and go for both menus at once.