Culver's

Culver’s

Fenton, Mo.

http://www.culvers.com/

Culver’s is a predominately Midwestern chain. It started as a single restaurant in Sauk City Wisconsin in the mid-80’s. It’s expansion was slow at first, but it now claims over 400 locations reaching to Texas and Arizona. Sorry Maryland, there’s no plan to head that direction anytime soon, you're stuck with your puny crab shacks.

The Place:

It’s a burger/sandwich/ice cream affair similar in offerings, but bigger and a tiny bit more upscale than Ginny’s and Rich’s (recently reviewed).

This was Angel’s choice. She was certain we, or at least she, had been there before, I certainly couldn’t recall it. At least not this location, I seldom go past Gravois Bluffs on Highway 141, there’s just no need to. This place was almost in Valley Park, a neighboring town which I only hear about from news reports about spring flooding. Nearly every Fenton restaurant we’ve reviewed is located in or around the enormous (1.5 million square feet) shopping area. 

The first thing I noticed as we pulled into the parking lot was that it was right next door to a Burger King. The second thing I noticed was that the drive-thru and lot for the BK was nearly empty, whereas Culvers was packed. Nearly every space was taken, and inside the tables were at least 90% occupied.

I’d previewed the menu and didn’t need a lot of time to make up my mind. When I told Adam what I was going to get, he exclaimed ‘aww, shoot!’ in reply, meaning he had initially chosen the same thing. In the spirit of accommodating you, the fans, he decided on something else instead so we wouldn’t be reporting on just a single offering.

The overhead menu was expansive, it also sported the chain’s iconic blue and white theme. Most of the stores are white with a blue roof and the walls inside are white with blue trim. There were a few posters and signs used for modest decoration on the walls, mostly touting Wisconsin in one way or another. Even when Wisconsin does blow it’s horn, it’s really not all that loud.

The Food:

 I ordered the Bacon Deluxe Butter Burger combo, with crinkle fries. Adam opted for the Buffalo Chicken Wings and fries, and Angel went for the Prime Rib Dip sandwich plus fries. We were handed our plastic number tag and drink cups. We filled ‘em with tea, sweet tea and Pepsi. Next to the tea dispenser was a covered condiment tub containing lemon wedges, I partook, but only because it was covered. I’ve heard somewhere that exposed lemons in eateries are magnets for diseases and bacteria, maybe even deadly ones. Why take a chance?

We found a booth and settled in. The place was crawling, but mostly with families. Unlike the more famous burger chains, there were not any loose bands of teenagers milling about, the patronage here was more mature and responsible. This was punctuated by the single flat screen TV tuned to CNN.

One non-Vietnamese lady struggled to find room to situate her brood of kids, five preteen Vietnamese girls. Non-Vietnamese dad helped as well by staying out of the way,  in the shadows, until they were all situated. I don't blame him, getting involved with any of that would be like pushing the first domino in a crying, squealing chain.

A young man in company colors weaved carefully and respectfully between the tables, bussing and sweeping dutifully as he went. Abandoned tables turned over pretty quickly due to his efforts.

I sipped my lemon’d tea, I knew the tea would be fresh since the dispenser was replaced just before I got to it. Fresh indeed, but not all that flavorful.

Bacon Deluxe Burger

The food arrived in just a few minutes. Served in ‘baskets’. Actually they were served in cardboard trays folded to mimic the plastic baskets used in other burger places. The meals were complete and quite tasty looking. We dealt them out and dug in.

I know the trick of a ‘Buttery Burger’, it’s the bun. I do the same thing when I grill burgers at home. I butter the buns and toast them on the grill. It’s amazing how much better this make a simple burger. Oh yeah, we pronounce it ‘butt-ree’, ‘not butter-y’ because butt-ree sounds funnier.

 The cheese on mine was real cheddar, as advertised, Culver’s (from Wisconsin) is proud of their cheeses.

The crinkle fries were about a minute of frying short of where I would have taken them, but they at least weren’t starchy. I would have preferred more crunch. The burger included lettuce, tomato and red onion, and was constructed with a satisfying amount of each.

Adam looked baffled at his chicken nuggets. “That doesn’t look like buffalo.” He remarked. Indeed they didn’t. We first assumed that he had been given the standard chicken nuggets rather than the buffalo since buffalo chicken usually has a caramelized sticky sauce, these did not, just breading. He didn’t want to make a fuss so he said it didn’t really matter and started eating them. He did say later in that the breading was a little spicy, though not quite to the expected level. (Afterward I checked and found this on Culver’s web site: “The secret to our spicy Buffalo Chicken Tenders is in the seasoned breading”)

Prime Rib Dip

So if you are expecting Hooter’s-style messy chicken, you’ll probably be a little disappointed.

I asked Angel how she liked her Prime-dip, all I got was ‘Yum’ as she tore into it. Later she added that the meat was more flavorful than the Au Jus (gesundheit!) provided. "Saltier than a burger." She added. I tried a scrap, I agreed. It would have been too salty for me.
In all we were quite satisfied. Was it better than the neighboring Burger King? I’m not sure. Burger to burger, both are quite good. Culver’s has a significant upper hand though with the ice cream selections. Adam and Angel indulged, She ordered a root beer float, he, a ‘concrete mixer’ a thick shake infused with brownie or cookie crumbs. They seemed quite pleased with their choices.

Summary:

Maybe I was expecting more, but that isn’t to say I didn’t enjoy the meal. The burger was quite good, the fries could have used a little more attention. Adam was a bit disappointed with the lack of heat on his chicken. But there was nothing bad about any of it. The price was slightly higher, in all about four more bucks, than very similar fare at Ginny’s. The whole deal was still under $30. BK may have been a bit cheaper, but the ice cream offerings simply are not available there. This place was much, much more crowded and busy than the neighboring BK, so that should tell you something. Given the choice I’d certainly pick Culver’s between the two, but next to a Ginny’s? I’m not so sure.

Comments from some of my Facebook friends:

Tyler wrote: "The last time I went years ago they had a really good pork tenderloin sandwich."

 Michele wrote: "my favorite fast food!"

Kathy wrote: "Love their burgers, and fries, and onion rings....Jack likes their ice cream!"

Angel wrote: "You can be such an idiot!"


From the staff and management of Eat and Critique, Happy Thanksgiving Everyone!

Lion’s Choice vs. Arby’s

Battle: Roast Beef Sandwich, the final word.

Lion’s Choice

698 Gravois Bluffs Blvd
Fenton, MO

http://www.lionschoice.com/

Arby’s

690 South Truman Boulevard
Festus, MO

http://www.arbys.com/

This was Angel’s idea. A two-meal weekend pitting the two, very similar chains’ offerings against each other.

Lion’s choice is a small chain, only twenty locations total, seventeen in the St. Louis area and three in and around Oklahoma City. There’s a fair amount of local pride with Lion’s Choice. I even went into this with a slight bias toward the hometown underdog. A twenty store David vs. thirty-six hundred store Goliath. I’d been to the Lion several times but not recently. When I worked downtown there was one within easy walking distance and we would dine there a couple of times per month, but that was several years ago. I vowed to try to maintain objectivity, to be honest and fair.

Saturday: Lion’s Choice.

Located below Gravois Bluff, attached to a convenience store. Not a lot of dedicated parking, but enough for the light crowd.  We stepped up to the overhead menu, I decided to keep it simple, to order the standard roast beef sandwich with cheddar cheese. Angel opted for the French Dip, Adam ordered the ‘King’, which basically had a different kind of bun. Adam and I ‘larged’ our orders which meant a bigger cup and more fries, however the amount of meat on the sandwich did not change.

Drinks were self-serve. I chose unsweetened tea in spite of the fact that Adam had tasted it and declared it ‘old and bitter’ before switching to Pepsi. He’s used the line ‘old and bitter’ before, typically when referring to me, so I knew not to take him at his word. Angel filled her cup with pink lemonade.

The tea was indeed a bit old and cloudy, but I’d had worse. I didn’t want anything sweet as that tends to overpower my taste buds, crippling them for the greater task at hand, tasting the actual food. We sat and waited the few minutes it took to slice the meat, which is a Lion’s choice brag. They don’t pre-make sandwiches or even pre-slice the meat.

I filled several tiny paper cups with ketchup and a couple more with the house barbecue sauce. Horseradish was also available, but ignored. There were also onions and pickles available, which I got, as well as some chopped peppers, which I did not.

Angel tested the barbecue sauce. “Tastes just like crap.” She mumbled.  Adam and I stared at her in disgust. “What?” we asked, since Angel is not usually quick to indict something like that. “It tastes just like Kraft Barbecue Sauce.” She looked annoyed. “You said ‘crap’” Adam scolded. “No I didn’t, I said KRAFT!” She looked at me. “I heard ‘crap’ as well.” I replied. This went on for a while, until our order was called.

Angel’s French dip turned out to be a sandwich very much like Adam’s, a small hoagie. The wrappers did not identify which was which and the ‘Au Jus’ (Gesundheit!) was served in a separate lidded bowl. They finally reached a decision and dug in. Mine was served on what appeared to be a standard, run-of-the-mill hamburger bun. The cheese was oozing out the sides nicely.

Judgment:

My sandwich offered forth its cheesy, pickle-y toppings. The beef itself was moist, tender and slightly pink. The bun held up for a short while but began to fall apart about halfway through, the juices released from the steamy beef slowly dismantled the flimsy bread. I thought the cheese, sharp cheddar, might have been a mistake. There was lots of it, normally a good thing, but it was salty, too salty. I barely finished the thing. I would have thought little more of it since I'm salt-sensitive. In fact I didn’t even mention it. But then Angel spoke: “My au jus (Gesundheit!) is too salty.” She said. Adam plucked at his meat. “My beef is too salty.” He added.

Angel and I looked at each other square in the eyes, something we do not often do. She dipped her finger into her au jus (Gesundheit!) and tasted it, then again. “It’s not the sauce.” she pronounced, “It’s the beef!” She tore off an un-dipped portion of the meat and tasted, then nodded her head.

Indeed the salty fries were bland in comparison. Had I noticed it earlier, or had my sandwich been bigger, I probably would have not finished it. By this time however the saltiness was entrenched in my delicate and refined palette, unable to be washed away by a few blasts of old, bitter tea. “I thought it was the cheese.” I told her. “I didn’t mention it because I’m considered overly picky about saltiness.” We sat and shook our heads in shared disappointment. 

That evening Angel’s Facebook status announced: “Went to Lion’s Choice for the first stop on a two-meal comparison, so far they’re in second place.”

The drive home was somber, frustrated and mournful. We’d really hoped that the Lion would be an out-of-the-park home run. “Well at least the sandwiches were small, I can snack later.” She sighed. Angel’s a glass-half-full person.

Sunday: Arby’s:

A shorter drive, Festus, at the edge of the Walmart parking lot. We were eerily quiet. Hope was diminished, disappointment hovered on the horizon. The feeling was similar to that one has when nearing the end of a long drive to visit a dour and bitter relative. Nothing against Arby’s itself, it was just that the bar had been set pretty low.

I ordered a similar sandwich, beef and cheddar cheese, with curly fries. They also offer waffle fries and tater-triangles (Loaded Bites), a technological breakthrough of NASA proportions. Angel ordered the same, both of us accepted the mid-sized sandwich. Adam ordered the three-cheese and bacon ‘Ultimate Angus’ which was served on a hoagie. They both ordered curly fries as well. I repeated the condiment maneuvers, ketchup, barbecue sauce, onions pickles. We poured our drinks, tea and tea, Angel’s was sweetened mine was not. Adam got his Dr. Pepper on. Angel followed me to the condiment counter and poured some horsey sauce into a little cup. Yuck.

The tea was bright and fresh, at least a lot fresher than we’d had the night before. The wait for the food was not long we waited and Angel picked at the pickles. “I like Lion’s Choice’s pickles better.” She announced. “That’s something at least.” I answered. The sandwiches arrived, the wrappers clearly stating which sandwich was which.

Judgment:

I immediately noticed the bun, it was heavier, sturdier than those at the Lion. It was also fancier, with seeds, or onion slivers cooked in. It needed to be a sturdy bun since the ‘mid-size’ meant at least twice as much beef as we'd had the night before. There was no pink on this beef and it lacked the home-style look and drippings. It was a dark brown and thinly deli-sliced. It was also, as Adam immediately noticed, “Not too salty”. The curly fries were simply outstanding.

There was so much meat that I could not finish it. Adam and Angel finished theirs quickly, they refilled their drinks and waited for me. In the meantime we discussed the findings. Adam asked his mother if the barbecue sauce “Tasted like crap”   which started that whole spiraling discussion again.

I gave up, folded my wrappers and added the debris to the growing pile on the tray.

The Verdict:

I convened a team meeting to discuss, objectively, our findings.

“We’re a team?” Adam asked. “I’ve never been on a real team, should we get shirts made?” Angel chimed in.

Sometimes my team is ridiculously difficultto work with.

The only thing that ended up in the plus column for Lion’s Choice turned out to be the pickles. On every other measure, beef quality, portions, buns and even fries and barbecue sauce, Arby’s simply scored better.  

As much as it pains me to say it, Arby’s won by a wide margin.

Lion’s beef was too salty, the portions were timid, the buns flimsy, the tea, old and cloudy.

The decision was quick and unanimous.

Summary:

The bills for the two similar meals came in about a dollar and a half apart, in the low twenty’s. There was much more food for the buck at Arby’s. Angel made multiple mentions of the portion differences. Though the Lion’s beef looked better, more homey and fresh, the excessive saltiness was simply inexcusable. Lion’s fries were fine on their own, no complaint, but Arby’s were just better.

We went into this thing fully expecting, hoping that the hometown favorite, Lion’s Choice would be the clear winner. Surely the mega-chain Arby’s wouldn’t be able to measure up to a small, popular and local chain. But they did, and not even by the skin of their teeth.

That being said, Arby’s may have won the battle but they don’t exactly get a shiny trophy. Arby’s store was not as clean as Lion’s Choice. It seemed a little grungy. Mostly though Arby’s roast beef was not really great, merely better than Lions Choice. Arby’s meat was very much like you get at the supermarket in the deli section. It lacked that coarse, fall-apart texture and moisture. But OMG Lion’s Choice, the salt!

Disagree with our verdict? Let us know so we can publicly insult your tastes, your family, your choices, your appearance and your other opinions!

_____________________________________________________

Lion's Choice:

Arby's:

d. Dooley’s 026 Grill

568 Old Smizer Mill Road
Fenton, MO

http://www.ddooleys.com/

We’ve been busy the last couple of weekends and didn’t really eat out together. We’re all back now and ready for some more saucy, hard-hitting and articulate reviews.

The day was hot and humid, threatening early evening storms. I'd spent the morning saying a final farewell to a long-time hobby. For years I have been rescuing old computers, taking them home, fixing them up, making them do things together. In just the last five years since we last purged excess junk (moved) I'd still managed to accumulate quite a pile. About a year ago is the last time I recall even visiting the basement area where I kept my dusty pile. Somewhere along the line I'd simply lost interest in old computers and the tricks they could be taught. There's no market for the stuff, all of it at least ten years old, several generations behind contemporary usefulness. So I put an ad on Craigslist under 'Free' and watched the emails pile up. I called a guy who indicated that he was in the refurbishing/recycling business. He seemed legit and we lined up a Saturday morning pickup. I sprained several muscles lugging the junk upstairs, even with a trailer. He showed up promptly and loaded it up, filling to overflowing the small pickup's bed.

"We'll DOD wipe the hard drives." he assured me.

"Not necessary, I pulled the personal hard drives."

"Oh, Okay."

I had.  Old hard drives contain old data, like your SSN, your phone numbers, your frequently visited web sites. I don't let those things loose into the wild. Instead I perform a technical task on them commonly referred to as 'shooting the drives'. It's actually a quite simple process if you happen to live out in the country and own a high powered rifle or two. A handgun doesn't quite have the penetrating power needed, they're better suited for keyboards and monitors. I know this because, yes, I have shot a hard drive with a .45 Colt 1911. A Czechoslovakian M1922 Mauser is much better for this particular job.

I felt no regrets seeing the stuff disappear. Angel seemed pleased, more room for her junk now.

The Place:

The little ‘d.’ is for Dan, the proprietor, I don’t know what the ‘026’ is about. It’s been in business since 2005, located just off highway 141 on the far side of I-44.

It’s in a large new-ish strip shopping center, a handsome place though it completely lacks pub-like character. It emulates a modern sports-themed Irish eatery, like O’ Charley’s though without the backing of a national chain.

Angel had found it on the interwebs, we’d not heard of it before. The menu was enticing, something for everyone. Steaks, pasta, seafood, pizza, the whole nine yards.

It wasn’t too busy, we were led immediately to a booth in the back. The dark, charcoal carpet was very worn, the tables and chairs themed in red and black, the booths added a hunter-green. Cheap blond wainscoting went up from the floor to a beige/tan/gray-ish painted wall, the color was so neutral that I couldn’t even figure out how to describe it. The obligatory high, open ceiling was painted rust-brown, exposing pipes and vents and a few large ceiling fans. Each booth had a wall mounted tin lamp with it’s own dimmer switch.

The menus were single large-page, double sided and locally laminated, also well-worn.

Our waitress took our drink order, Beer (Sam Adams), tea and Pepsi. She was not amused at my original request: “I’ll have a beer.” and absently demanded specificity. Her obvious lack of humor canceled my plans to ask for sauerkraut later.

The drinks were delivered promptly and we placed our order.

The Food:

Me: Philly Strip steak (cheese, onions, peppers) with a baked potato and a side salad. I asked for a dressing recommendation and accepted the house blend ‘Ranch, Bacon, Parmesan’.

Angel: Nine inch ‘Gerber’ Pizza with side salad.

Adam: Chicken Club sandwich, hold the tomato, curly fries.

The wait for the food was not terribly long, though something was missing. We’d also ordered an appetizer, pretzel bites with cheese sauce. We waited and waited, made fun of each other and made terrible remarks about other people in the restaurant. Finally the salads arrived. The waitress was just about to walk off when I inquired about the appetizer. She had obviously forgotten because, though I’m no mind reader I can tell the difference in facial expressions between “Hmm, I’ll go check on them” (which is what she said) and "Oops forgot all about them”. Which is what her face showed. She was back in less than a minute with the pretzel chunks.

The salads were small, simple and fresh. The house special dressing was smoky, bacon-y and not overly sweet or tart. The salads only contained lettuce, onion and grated white cheese.  There was so much cheese that it ended up in the bottom of the bowl all bound together by the dressing. A little less would have been better.

Shortly our plates arrived, delivered by someone other than our waitress. Some places do this, I do not approve. I like single points of service, the delivery person did not know who got which plate, so she asked and we pointed.

She left quickly. In about fifteen seconds I determined that the butter knife I had was not going to carve through the thick, medium-rare steak. It took a couple of minutes to flag down someone, our own original waitress as it turned out. She returned with what resembled a bowie knife. It was sharp enough for the job though, so what if it made me look like Crocodile Dundee. My potato was massive and was served with four condiment tubs of Country Crock faux-butter and a half cup of sour creme. I glanced around for my Doctor. I didn’t spot him so I piled it on.

The steak was covered in what at one time had been melted cheese. By the time I cut into it though it had partially re-assembled itself into a warm blob. It did not cut well with the steak so it got mostly left behind. The onions and peppers were fine, just not enough of them.

Angel offered me a chunk of her little pizza the ‘Gerber’ which was ham, garlic butter and cheese, thin crust. It wasn’t bad but my problem with St. Louis cheese blends is that they seem to be a bit too sweet. Angel admitted that it was very rich.

Adam’s sandwich and fries disappeared quickly, though he remarked that the chicken was okay, but not noteworthy. I was the last one done, too much food again.

Summary:

          The food was pretty good, we decided to go back sometime but order something else. The service was the least impressive part. Not that it was bad, just inattentive. Very little follow-up, very little more than minimal service.

The bill came in around fifty-eight dollars, about the same as Ruby Tuesday’s or Chili’s, for similar offerings and theme. There was nothing outstanding about it at all, but nothing really bad either.  If we lived closer it might call for more frequent visits, but there’s lots of other (slightly) better places between Dooley’s and our house. I wouldn’t be ashamed to take guests there, but once again, there are several other places that fit that description as well.

O’Charley’s

190 Gravois Bluff Circle
Fenton, MO

http://www.ocharleys.com/

The Party:

I can’t jump in on the main meal for this weekend without mention of the more significant event on Saturday.

Verna Sims, one of the liveliest and most talented writers in the Writers Society of Jefferson County (WSJC) had a birthday last week. To celebrate we threw her a party at Ann Wells’ large home.

Verna turned 90.

The turnout was large and included many members of her family as well as a good many of our writer’s group. It was strictly a cake, ice cream and finger snack event. Annette Ray, WSJC’s current president provided party hats. But not just any hats. Verna fancies visors, like the ones you see on tourists in sunny places. So Annette found/made colorful, some even glittery, visors for everyone. They were adorned with dangling curled ribbons, a touch guarantied to make a fool out of just about everyone that put them on. And we all did. Rather than traditional gifts, Verna had requested (insisted really, she’s feisty that way) that we each provide her with something we had written so she could include it in a 3-ring binder as a keepsake. I do know that more than one of us put in some extra hours of effort to come up with something suitable.

As for my gift, I printed out the rough working draft of the first two chapters of a project I’ve been working on quietly for a couple of years now, a novel based on the county poor farm, set in the late 1800’s. Verna has shown a continued interest in that effort and has provided a lot of inspiration and encouragement.

Verna’s own writing revolves around her early years, growing up in almost constant financial struggle, making do without luxuries, yet thriving in a strong family. Her stories paint broad, vivid pictures of things and times that I can only imagine. She does it so well that imagining them is not difficult at all.

Verna only started writing when she was in her 80’s, I think she was kind of busy before that. Her work has been published in the local papers many, many times, she’s one of our most prolifically published writers.

Anyway, as it is tritely said, a good time was had by all even though there was no conga line, strippers, karaoke, booze, gambling, 'adult' games or naughty gifts (that I am aware of). At the end of the party everyone wrote a small sentiment on their visors and gave them to Verna.

Plans are to hold a similar party for her in ten years.

What’s this have to do with food you ask?

Because of the cakes.

There was a traditional frosted birthday cake, chocolate with sugary white frosting, and then there was the ‘Texas Sheet Cake’ made by Elaine B. Elaine often bakes little cakes for our regular meetings and does quite well keeping them tame, but tasty. This monster she made for the party though was quite something else. As I understand it this sheet cake, is made with butter, two kinds of chocolate, butter and butter, sprinkled with sugar and maybe some more butter.

The taste was awesome, for the first few bites. After that I felt it wise, considering the average age of the attendees, to have at least one ambulance standing by. My ears buzzed, my face flushed and I suffered the desperate urge to run, skip, and turn somersaults.

And then there was Ann's bold move. She made tea.

Those of you familiar with my reviews may have picked up on the fact that I am somewhat picky about iced tea. Ann certainly knows this. I overheard a couple of people go up to her and say: “You knew Dennis was coming and you made tea anyhow?”

But Ann wasn’t afraid, she has been paying attention. It was fresh, and it was Luzianne. I had two glasses of it and congratulated her. She took the accolades in stride.

The cakes and the tea I had mid-afternoon set the stage for my choices at:

The Place:

O’Charley’s is a chain of 200+ restaurants in the midwest and south. It was started in 1969 in Nashville, Tennessee across from Vanderbilt University, one of the many places my saintly mother has a degree from. It’s a chain not unlike Ruby Tuesday’s, Chili’s or Outback in style, price and fare. We’ had been avoiding O’Charley’s up till now since the last time we ate there, right before we started the Eat and Critique quest, we were bitterly disappointed. I didn’t write anything down at the time, but I recall that the steak was very tough and rubbery. We returned this night to see if maybe that last encounter was a fluke.

The large restaurant was crowded and the din was that of a lively sports bar without the actual sports. There may have been a ballgame on a TV somewhere, but I didn’t notice it. What I did notice was the large table next to the booth at which we were seated. Seven or eight couples all decked out in formal attire, like that you would see at a prom. The young ladies were perm’d and tightly squeezed into ridiculously shiny, billowy and flowing gowns. Their dates wore starched shirts and ties and probably jackets. We suspected a prom but questioned that later as the boys/men were all sipping beers and it appeared that the ladies were holding fruity, colorful mixed drinks. I’m sure O’Charley’s does not ever overtly sell booze to minors, so it may not have been a prom, though I can’t imagine any other venue where those dresses would be appropriate.

The menus were typical of the bigger chains, steak, seafood, pasta and appetizer sections. Angel wanted a steak, I didn’t, still buzzing and queasy from the party cakes. Nor did I want tea, Ann had already set the bar too high for that.

We ordered our drinks and for the first time that I can recall, no one got tea. Angel had pink lemonade, Adam got his Pepsi, I went for beer.

Yes, Beer. Budweiser Select, to be specific. Not because I worked at AB for three + years, or was a card carrying member of the ‘Royal and Ancient Order of Elbow Benders’ while working there. No, I ordered Select since they were running a special on it and Bud Select is not as disgusting as some other big-beer choices.

The Food.

I didn’t want steak, so I opted for fish and chips, batter-fried cod and fries. Angel jumped in and asked for the steak and shrimp scampi, with Caesar salad and a baked potato. Adam ordered the chicken tenders and fries. I was a bit concerned as the waiter, a big, happy guy confidently took our order without writing it down. I guess we are supposed to be impressed by this little trick, but it’s only really impressive if they get it right. That sort of talent is quite rare though. Frankly I’d rather have the order delivered correctly rather then by memory. I’m not really distracted by the whole writing-it-down process.

We watched the party table as we waited. A fairly sedate group, most of the ladies fussed and fidgeted with their cumbersome and scratchy gowns, the gentlemen were each on their second or third beer and seemed rather calm.

We were served bread, wide, flat rolls (advertised as 'unsliceably soft') that were about 99% air. Just picking one up crushed them. They were fresh and warm and when buttered, though cutting them open to butter them almost destroyed them completely, they were however, quite tasty. The waiter asked if we wanted more, we said no, but he brought some anyhow and they are now sitting in a dumpster or landfill somewhere. (strike one?)

Adam was giddy that the drinks had been served with bendy-straws, in his view one of the 20^th Century’s greatest inventions. I didn’t have a straw, I had beer.

I’m not a big beer drinker. Since I left AB two years ago I’ve only had maybe three or four beers. It’s not my favorite drink, nor my poison of choice. I have nothing against beer, but it can be quite filling and if I’m going to lay out serious change for a big meal I don’t want to fill up on anything fizzy and heavy that would prevent me from eating as much as possible.

I’d had a Sam Adams the week before at a restaurant we didn’t write up, and enjoyed it thoroughly. The Bud Select was not nearly as good.

Angel’s salad arrived, sort of. The waiter delivered it with a question mark. “You wanted ranch dressing right?” Angel had to think, I didn’t, I’d written it down because I always write down what we have so I won’t forget those details. “She ordered the Caesar." I chided. “I did ?” Angel asked. “Oh, we’ll bring that right out…" He looked at me, "Sir would you like a Ranch salad, on the house?” He asked, trying to patch up the error. “No, thank you.” Adam also passed it up. If I’m not mistaken he offered the salad to two or three other tables. (Strike two)

The proper salad finally came, topped with croutons, exactly four of them. This disappointed Angel and Adam. At self-serve salad bars, those two have been known to completely bury the greens in croutons, Adam always steals half from of them from his patient and loving mother. A mere four croutons was a real let-down.

The meals arrived shortly afterward. We dug in immediately, ignoring each other as is our style. My fish was flaky and moist under the light breading. My only complaint was that one of the nuggets was too thick, almost an inch. In my own expert opinion, fish served this style should be small and thin. The tartar sauce was rather bland and unremarkable. The fries were a bit limp, but not disgusting. Long John Silver does a better job with fish and chips.

Angel Really liked the steak, which means our experience of a couple years back may have been just a fluke.

Adam really, really liked the breading on his chicken and did not even make a fuss when not served the dipping sauce he’d ordered. (strike three?)

Summary:

All in all, not a bad meal. The food was better than I had anticipated and my complaints about it are mostly petty. The bill came to about forty bucks, not too bad. The service was not excellent, based mostly on the pointless party trick of memorizing orders rather than writing them down. Details, details, details. Food service is all about the details. Has anyone ever complained anywhere because the wait staff wrote down the orders? If you’re going to try this you darned well better be able to pull it off flawlessly every time. Sure it’s not a huge deal, but our orders were not complicated at all, pretty much straight off the menu. The result of flawed memory games will be reflected in the tip as well as the motivation to return. If I want a simple order botched up I’ll just go to the drive-through at Hardees, it’s a lot cheaper and closer to home.

Other than those, rather minor issues the food was quite good, the atmosphere pretty good (there were screaming children) and the wait staff at least tried to correct their errors. I’ll give the place a B minus though, they could do better.

Disclaimer:

I’d had beer. I’m a relative lightweight when it comes to alcohol, therefore some comments and recollections reflected herein may be clouded or completely erroneous due to the fact that I was a bit tipsy near the end of the meal. Most of my handwriting in my notes after about the halfway point in the meal is even more indecipherable than it usually is. i.e.: “Fsh Bredng: Not to thich”