The unusual, multi-level white building at 2502 Dunlavy in Montrose, has been a couple of different businesses, including wine bar Bacchus and, more recently, Kâu Ba, the restaurant that sadly closed just as it was getting Michelin recognition. Now it’s Alora Restaurant & Bar operated by two married couples: chefs Diego and Makayla Ponce, and hospitality professional and bartender Ngoc Tran and Louis Quy, who oversees operations. Collectively, the team brings decades of experience earned at hotels and restaurants near and far. For example, the Ponces’ prior experiences include working in the kitchen of the Four Seasons Hotel Houston. Diego also worked at The Post Oak Hotel (which holds a Michelin Key) while Makayla worked at MARCH (which was granted a Michelin Star last year). 

Tran and Quy are Vietnamese and the Ponces are Peruvian, and those combined heritages form the foundation of Alora’s dishes. The restaurant is still fairly new as it opened in January of this year. 

Alora feels like an only-in-Houston sort of place, melding Peruvian and Vietnamese cuisine. It not only makes sense, it’s sensible thanks to overlaps in ingredients, dishes and techniques. I was invited to visit, and the restaurant belies the oddball exterior architecture with an interior that’s handsomely appointed in green leatherette banquettes and wood-framed chairs. On a Saturday evening, it was abundant in couples and groups of friends, giving it an energetic and fun vibe. 

Adding to the gaiety, perhaps, was a short but intriguing list of cocktails. The Pho-Quila with “phở-aroma-infused Corazón Reposado”, lime juice and ginger syrup immediately caught my attention. The phở characteristics were fairly subtle — a purr rather than a roar — but I caught the unmistakable spice of star anise right away. It went well with the tequila, and I also appreciated the brisk simplicity of the three-ingredient cocktail.

For an appetizer, I quickly steered to a riff on a favorite Peruvian classic, causa limeña de pollo. It’s historically made with puréed yellow potatoes, ají amarillo (a mild pepper paste ubiquitous in Peruvian cuisine) and chicken salad. The flexibility of the ingredients makes the dish a favorite for chefs to play with structure and presentation. Alora’s version, Causa De Cangrejo, swaps the chicken for crab which tops a soldierly line of three deep-fried potato balls in great rounded heaps. Ají amarillo dots the fetching blue serving dish, and a pool of black mint sauce (ají de huacatay) helped secure the fried potato balls in place — plus was a second, welcome condiment. 

The Cà-Ri Shrimp offered a promising premise of yellow curry with Gulf shrimp, sweet potato and vermicelli with a dash of shrimp paste to add depth to the sauce. The shrimp tasted clean enough, and I was ready to forgive the first mushy one, but had to trade in the dish after having to set aside a second and then a third. I’m guessing that the texture issue had something to do with improper freezing or storage at the supplier. I loved the curry base, though, and would try this dish again, hopefully next time with some taut, bouncy shrimp. 

My trade-in dish was much more successful and is the poster child of Alora’s premise: Shaking Lomo Saltado, a melding of Vietnamese shaking beef and Peruvian lomo saltado. Both dishes rely on tender cuts of steak, and the chefs are using beef tenderloin sautéed with big hunks of tomato and red onion. Alongside are fried huayro potatoes which are native to the Andes and have a drier texture than those typically used in the U.S. They remind me of fried yucca. 

My companion ordered the Octopus Anticucho, a riff on a Peruvian street food often made with grilled beef heart. Accented with crispy lotus root chips and a purple pansy, it was the most beautiful plating to hit the table that night. I snagged a bite of the thick octopus tendril, seasoned with a sauce made with ají panca (a mild chile), and it was as tender as any I’ve tried. 

There are only two desserts — Cinco Leches, a cake soaked in coconut milk and heavy cream in addition to the traditional trio of whole, evaporated and condensed milks — and Kem Xoi, served in a bowl with a foundation of pandan sticky rice, topped with toasted coconut ice cream, peanut crumble and roasted coconut flakes. I steered towards the latter, and it was quite perfect for finishing the meal created with so many intriguing ingredients. 

Alora is the kind of restaurant that Montrose needs right now. Its young leadership team is defying culinary delineations and any expectation of serving “authentic” Peruvian or Vietnamese fare. They’re doing their own thing, and that feels like a much-needed shot in the arm for a neighborhood that has lost landmark restaurants such as Dolce Vita, One Fifth and UB Preserv. A few more restaurants like Alora, and Montrose could reclaim its title as one of Houston’s most exciting dining neighborhoods. 

Alora is open Tuesday through Saturday from 11 a.m. to 10 p.m. and Sunday from 11 a.m. to 8 p.m. It offers weekend brunch from 11 a.m. to 3 p.m. and happy hour Tuesday through Friday from 3 to 6 p.m. There’s a small parking lot next door. If it’s full, you’ll need to scavenge street parking. (It’s Montrose, so look carefully for no-parking signs.)

Phaedra Cook

Phaedra Cook has written about Houston’s restaurant and bar scene since 2010. She was a regular contributor to My Table magazine (now closed) and was the lead restaurant critic for the Houston Press for two years, eventually being promoted to food editor. Cook founded Houston Food Finder in November 2016 and has been its editor and publisher ever since.