Jilly's

1630 Gravois Rd.
High Ridge, Mo.
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It was nearing the end of the four days off from work for the New Year holiday. We're not partiers, so we had no plans for celebration other than snack-type munchies, veggies, dips, chips, those 'Little Smokies' in barbecue sauce... some of us didn't even manage to make it to midnight. At that magic time I was watching TV, I don't recall what, maybe Mythbusters, probably Mythbusters, I saw a lot of that over the four days. They were running and end to end series marathon.
The weather was mostly chilly and cloudy, I took advantage of the lack of goings-on and dark, dreary weather to luxuriate in a glorious languor.
I insisted that Angel should pick us a place to go to on Saturday. I can be a jackass like that at times, especially if I'm wallowing in a long period of downtime and too lazy to think about, or plan things much.
She surprised me when after a couple of hours she came back with "Jilly's."
"You mean the Salt Palace?" I responded.
That's what jumped to mind immediately when she said it. The two times we've reviewed the place, we came away feeling salt-licked.
If we were going to do this right, we'd have to keep our minds open, besides, we hadn't been there in nearly five years.
The Place:
High Ridge is actually quite a distance from our compound outside Hillsboro. There's no good way to bet there.Choice 'A' is barely-shouldered, narrow and curvy/hilly Highway BB, over to Highway 30, then half the county north.
Choice 'B' is more drivable, 21 to M then up 30, for not nearly as far. To get there we took Choice B. It seemed to take forever. The restaurant sits on a hill amongst and behind other shops, so you have to look for the signs. It was all lit up this post holiday time, the patio and gazebo held tasteful, not wasteful simple white lights.Overhead the blue neon sign read "illy's". Which by definition means the sign wasn't filled with neon, which is orange, more likely mercury gas.
The place can hold a lot of people, so it didn't concern us too much to see that the lot was about 2/3 full. We just marched in like we owned the place. The main dining area has booths along the perimeter. The center of the space is lower than the perimeter, sort of a ballroom configuration. In the center area there was a group of forty or so besuited middle aged people that appeared to all be part of a single group. A reception of some kind. They were already being served their main courses.
We were shown to a booth in the back, pretty much the same booth we've gotten twice before.

The decor is classy. By that I mean classic. Dark wood paneled walls, 60's style booths and tables, the artwork depicting martini's and Manhattans in cocktail glasses. Almost like you wouldn't be surprised to see a half sloshed Don Draper sitting at one of them with his hand sliding up some buxom blonde's skirt.
Overhead, old style blues rang out, one of my favorite restaurant music types.
Yeah, a steakhouse/blues club/cocktail bar. A bit of odd fusion, but certainly unique. Nothing Diner/Drive-in/Dive about it.
The Food:
I pretty much knew I'd be getting steak. I hadn't had one in quite a while. So I scanned the menu as the server asked about drinks (tea, tea, Pepsi). I heard Angel ask for an appetizer, cannelloni bites. They are prepared similar to the regionally ubiquitous toasted ravioli, by that I mean breaded and deep fried.
I struggled with the steak selections, I was looking for a small steak. I wanted a baked potato as well, no need to waste a big, pricey slab of meat that I wouldn't be able to finish. The only small one (6 oz.) they had was a Petite Flat Iron. I didn't know what that was, but it was a steak and it was the right size. So after our drinks arrived I asked for it, the potato and green beans.
Angel asked for 'The Ribs' with Spinach Salad and Baked Potato. Adam a Grilled Chicken Club Sandwich with House Chips.
Pretty soon the cannelloni arrived, twelve of them, more than you get as an appetizer in other places, with a tiny ramekin of marinara dipping sauce sprinkled with Parmesan cheese.
I dipped a cannelloni into the sauce too soon, it was blistering hot. I let half of it rest and cool before trying it again.
We agreed that we liked cannelloni better than ravioli, more meaty filling, less noodle. The treats and the sauce were pretty darn good. The cannelloni was crunchy, meaty, savory. The sauce was not too sweet, but maybe a little too much Parm.
There, I said it, without really saying it. Parmesan cheese comes across a bit salty. I was on my guard looking for too salty tastes, the very thing we'd dinged Jilly's about in the past. There are several things besides salt itself that can come across salty, Parm is among them.
I had reviewed the previous write-ups before we went out. I recalled the saltiness  so I tried, deliberately to avoid things that might be victims of a heavy hand. Notice no one asked for mashed potatoes? A baked potato is safer, They aren't seasoned on the inside. The mashed potatoes was definitely something I'd pegged before as being over-'seasoned'.
Angel's Spinach Salad showed up pretty soon. A fresh, healthy looking thing, all green and crispy. She'd asked for the house 'Mayfair' dressing on it. I wouldn't have. Mayfair is also a St. Louis creation, anchovies, oil, egg, champagne, garlic, mustard. . .  see where i'm going here? Considering the venue and our past experiences, I would have chosen a sweeter dressing to cut back on the salty potential of everything else.
But I didn't get a salad. Sure enough, Angel didn't really care for the dressing.

The cannelloni disappeared, the salad made it about halfway, the 'rib towel' arrived. A mango and peach disposable wipe in a plastic tube. I guessed that Angel and her ribs were about to get messy. I don't care for ribs myself, a little too fatty, too much of a hassle, too messy. Angel's a big fan though, of beef ribs anyhow. The menu didn't say which animal the ribs came from. Could have been a horse for all we knew. She had assumed beef. . . Guess what?
The third person to wait on us this far delivered the main courses. Hefty, nicely plated offerings. Angel's pile of meat and bones looked as though it weighed twenty pounds or so.

Ribs

My strategically ordered 'petite' steak was smaller than the potato. Adam's sandwich and chips filled his plate.
We dug in. My steak cut like butter. The potato was piping hot and soft inside, it took the sour cream and butter perfectly. Yeah, I pretty much turned it into mashed potatoes, but I controlled the seasoning. A little pepper was all it took.
The green beans were firm and surrounded by a generous portion of cooked onions. I like onions, a lot.

Petite Flat Iron Steak

The steak was topped with a dollop of 'Cabernet Butter' Something Jilly's puts on most of their steaks. It didn't coat the whole thing though, so I was a bit confused when I bit in too a piece from the edge. It tasted. . . off. It didn't really taste much like steak. The texture was perfect, the done-ness, spot on, but the taste was weird. That's the best I can describe it. It just didn't taste like my taste buds were wanting it to taste. It wasn't awful, but it really was off-putting. I didn't finish it, or my beans for that matter. . . there was a taste to them from the onions, or some seasoning that just didn't motivate me to finish them. My tummy was happy though, potato.
Angel piped in somewhere that the ribs were not what she was expecting, they had a taste and texture that didn't match her expectations either. She said it might be from the wrong animal, but we had no way of knowing without asking.
There was also a lot of meat there. She had to get a box to take about half of it home. The ribs had been served with two ramekins of sauce, one was decidedly barbecue, the other was up for debate. Both Angel and Adam tried it, but they couldn't agree. Angel's final word was that it might be a form of Buffalo sauce, but in the end it didn't really matter because it went unused.
Adam's response about his sandwich was a fairly tepid 'pretty good'. Of course being a chicken sandwich, there's not a lot to either screw up or make sparkle. The bacon helped, the tomato and lettuce discarded, so it was basically just a grilled chicken breast, some bacon, some mild provolone and chilpotle sauce.
Summary:
I know you're dying to know, the tea was . . . blah. Not bitter really, but definitely on the south side of fresh.
Though I can't say that the main complaint this time was saltiness, we'd effectively dodged that bullet, but the consensus was that though not really bad, it was a bit disappointing in that nothing really stood out as being really all that good. With my steak, it could have been the cut, but I don't think that would have made so much of a difference. The ribs were not falling off the bone tender, but that's not always a bad thing. It was the taste and texture, and the lack of knowing what animal it came from that will keep Angel from ordering it again. Discussions later concluded that there just wasn't any real pull for the place, nothing that would motivate us to drive that far to take visitors to.
It seems to be busy and successful though, so maybe we're just ordering the wrong things. I'd love to hear from someone that found something there that they find really good.
As I mentioned, we were served by no less than three different people. All of them were nice enough, friendly and professional, but at the end of the meal I wasn't clear who I would be tipping.
So, bottom line, it was okay, but it might be another four and a half years before it occurs to me to try it again.

Bistro at the Square

48 Jefferson Square
DeSoto, Mo.


Wow, I'm struggling mightily with this one.

Angel said she wanted something 'fancy'. We're not fancy people. For us, 'fancy' means tablecloths, folded linen napkins and a flower on the table. That's what the Bistro offers.We'd been there before, never had anything really negative to say about it, the food was pretty good.
However, sometimes the planet spins out of control, as the great scientist Dr. Peter Venkman*, once described it: "Human sacrifice, dogs and cats living together... mass hysteria!"
It all started out so nicely, I remember it . . . like it was just. . . a couple of hours ago. . .  (Strokes chin, glances wistfully toward brain)
The Place:
It is located in a small-mall, Jefferson Square.There's not a lot of shopping at Jefferson Square. It's attached to a hotel though, sort of a built in clientele. The non smoking section is essentially in the hallway. It is a bit upscale though, nicely finished, high ceilings, tasteful and classy tables and chairs. Linen tablecloths.
There was one other gentleman in the hallway seating area, several, maybe ten inside the smoky bar area.
We were met by 'Server'  (No real names, I'm even going to mask and confuse gender/age range. You already know what that means.)
Server told us to sit where we liked, Angel found us a table in the back. Server passed out menus and asked about drinks. Tea, tea, Coke.
Someone turned some music on, not the cheap boombox/stereo they had last time, but the sophisticated electronics assemblage at the mini stage the live musician was to perform on. That familiar name again, David Blum. I've been to several places that he was scheduled to perform, we've just never been there late enough to actually hear him.

Through his five figure system came music, country music. It was going to be a long night. I decided what I wanted, not steak. I always get steak at the Bistro and it is always good, time to mix it up a little. Server showed up with our drinks, I could tell the tea was not especially fresh just looking at the tumbler, cloudy.
Server asked if we were ready to order, yes, yes we were. So we did.
The Food:
Me: Catfish Filet served with slaw, dinner roll and a potato side. I asked about the 'Cowboy Potatoes' Server described them, I accepted.
Angel: She asked about the night's specials. Server had to run back to the signboard at the host station to see what they were. "I just started my shift." Server said and then rattled them off, barbecue pork chops or Seafood Pasta. Angel decided on the Seafood Pasta.... I'll repeat that, the Seafood Pasta. It came with a salad.
Adam surprised us by ordering roast beef and green beans. Kind of an interesting choice for a kid, but he had been working at a pizza joint all day. Maybe a traditional, homestyle meal was exactly what he was craving.
Server took off. We sipped our drinks, downloaded some apps, they had solid, five-bar WiFi. I tried not to listen to the music.
Jerry Lee Lewis
Reba McIntire
Then some songs, more recent ones I assume, with ridiculous lyrics and questionable morals and absolute, rampaging sexism. I looked one of the songs up on the Google because it was so insulting and crass. Adam saw me using old fashioned search engine technology and wowed us by opening up an app on his cellular phone that listened to a few bars of music then told you who/what it was. I was impressed. Perhaps if I listened to music I would have known about such apps, but I didn't. He mentioned the name of one of the better apps for doing that. I downloaded it.(Shazam) Awesome!
The one I was looking up was 'Big Green Tractor'  performed by Jason Aldean. I don't know who that is. However I'm certain growing up in urban Macon Georgia and attending a private school (Windsor Academy) certainly prepared him for a life of asking girls to ride his big green tractor, unless that's a euphemism.
This was followed by 'The Ride' by David Alan Coe. A silly song about a paranormal experience with Hank Williams. I suppose after all those years in prison can make you a little delusional. ". . .can you bend those gee-tar strangs?"
Then it got worse.
"Tequila Makes her Clothes Fall Off."
It's everything you imagine, and worse.
This intellectual insult and degrading ode to ignorance and sexism was, oddly enough, followed by "Redneck Woman" by Gretchen Wilson. I know my Springfield Mo., friends are probably big fans of Gretchen who made her bones singing there, but really. . .  can't we try to do better?
Then a surpising thing happened, the music stopped. I looked and David Blum was tuning and checking his instruments. An acoustic guitar, a hollow body electric and a two tier keyboard with a magic music box (drum/beat box) plugged into it. Was it possible? Were we actually going to hear David perform?
Hold it, what about the food?

I'm glad you asked. The reason I just wrote about all the songs we were forced to listen to was to make a point. During that entire time, there was no service, except for the delivery of Angel's salad. No drink refills, no followup checks, nothing.
I didn't watch the clock, but it was  taking a long time. I checked the time stamps on my photos later. Between the photo of the menu and the first photo of an entree, forty five minutes had passed. Angel's salad was delivered pretty promptly, eaten, finished and plate taken away early during that span.
The salad itself bode well for us. "The best salad I've had in a long time!" She said. Real bacon and lots of it. I tasted it. Yeah it was good. No entrees yet, but David took the stage. I knew this could go either way.
Then he knocked my socks off. He opened with a cover of 'Black Magic Woman" an old Santana hit. David did an amazing job. I was very impressed. Things were looking up.

Catfish, Cowboy potatoes.

Somewhere during his third song, the food finally arrived. My catfish, Adam's roast beef and Angel's Pork Chops. . .
Were you paying attention?
She didn't order the pork chop special, she ordered the seafood pasta special. Server was confused. My hope was that Server had picked up the wrong plate and could just go back to the line and pick up the correct one and we could dig in.
Well, that didn't happen. A couple of minutes later I saw server sitting at a table talking to another crew member. They talked for several minutes. Adam started picking at his plate, feeling awkward about eating before everyone got their meal. We raised him right. I waited, picked at one off the potatoes. Cowboy potatoes are thick sliced and fried, with onions. These were pretty good.
"You can go ahead and eat." Angel told us.
"No, no I can't." I replied. "No tartar sauce, no slaw and no roll." I added.
"Oh my." She responded.
At least ten minutes went by before Server came by saying, "Your dinner will be ready shortly. My fault, I ordered up the wrong special."

There, that's better.

"Excuse me, but I'm still waiting for my slaw, tartar sauce and roll." I scolded, that's what It sounded like, a scolding.
"Oh yes, I'm sorry."
Server scurried off and came back rather quickly, carrying the goods.
Server looked down at our empty glasses and finally asked if we'd like a refill.
Duh.
From the time the meals were mis-delivered, to Angel's pasta finally showing up, fifteen minutes. Not a huge amount of time, unless you are watching your own food cool down.
My fish was pretty good. Fans will recall that I tried to order catfish the past weekend. I was in the mood for some fried, bottom feeding, river fish and this was certainly satisfactory. Crunchy, flaky, not over spiced. Adam said his food was pretty good, he ate it all.
Angel had a problem. Or two.
The toast, thick and butter-grilled was flaccid and over-buttered. I tried a piece, she wasn't kidding. It was like the bread soaked up a bunch of butter instead of just caramelizing on the outside. Like they put it on a grill that wasn't quite up to temperature. The inside was mushy, greasy.
Then there was the pasta. It looked good, it had lots of little shrimps in it.
Prepared sea creatures don't stand a chance around Angel, she will eat them all, even if she doesn't eat all the pasta they are delivered in. About halfway through though, still hosting a dozen or more small shrimp, she pushed the plate away.
"It's too salty." she said.
"That's my line." I replied.
"Try it." She challenged.
I did, she was right. This night was just not going to be any fun to write about.
At some point a more senior looking person came to our table and apologized. Nothing fancy, no overeager offer to comp part of the check or give us a coupon, I wasn't looking for that, but it was a rather weak and obligatory effort.
Server delivered the check.
Server didn't get a tip.
David did. I slipped a ten spot into his tip jar on the way out. He was the star of the evening, he wasn't forgetting songs, playing the wrong instrument. He had his head in the game. Server didn't.
Summary:
I really struggled with this write up. I don't like to pen bad things about locally owned and operated eateries, I really don't.
I was especially troubled by the fact that I knew they could do better.
However, let me be very clear. Server's head just wasn't in the game. I get that, it happens. It happens to me occasionally. Something usually comes along and snaps me out of it though, or I get yelled at. That'll do it too. I'm pretty sure server got a stern talking to. As far as I'm concerned, that should do it. Oh, and the no tip thing.
Maybe server was just having a bad day. Sure there were multiple infractions, everything took too long, two out of three meals were botched. But that's all perfectly fixable. No heads need to roll, no executions or public floggings required. It was a badly botched service. Get over it, get your cart back on the tracks, and move on.
The food, specifically the pasta dish, was a disappointment. Maybe rushed because of the service error, I don't know, but this is not what we've come to expect from this normally fine place.
As far as recommendations go, sure I can do that!

Go see David Blum wherever he might be performing. He did another Santana cover, 'Evil Ways', which he also knocked out of the park, and did it again with 'Ain't no Sunshine.' Truly amazing!
He also did some more country/rockabilly stuff, and he was quite good. But you already know my opinion of that sort of music.
Seriously, I was going to tip him even if the service was good. I don't usually tip musicians, because I so rarely see them perform, but this guy was worth every nickel.
Sure, we'll be back to the Bistro, for now, we're just going to chalk this fiasco up as a fluke.




*"Ghostbusters" reference.

The Farmer's Kitchen

4660 Yeager Rd.
Hillsboro, Mo.
On Facebook

Angel was out of town, her and Deede went to Fort Wayne for a dog training seminar of some kind.
Adam and I struggled with a choice. By default we would go to Gordon's Stoplight Drive in in Festus, where we usually go when she's out of town. But neither of us was pumped for that. So we struggled, up to the  moment we walked out the door.
I'd had breakfast at Farmer's Kitchen, I've even remarked that this place made the best waffles, ever. But I'd never been there for a grownup meal.
It made sense for us since Adam and I couldn't even decide what kind of food we were in the mood for. At least FK had a variety of offerings. I wanted catfish, one of their reputed specialties. I also knew they pulled a smoker up to the front on weekends and cranked out some quality barbecue.
So we piled into Das Coche Negro, (my black VW Jetta, German engineered, but built in Mexico) and made the seven minute drive. The weather had been pretty mild for a July, except for this day, it was balmy, sticky, humid and hot.
We chatted on the way, his day at work was 'fine'. I gathered.
The Place:

It's been open for less than a year by the current owners, Karen and Rick Lindwedel. It's located on the road to the Post Office, Just north of Queens Market.  Those are legitimate Hillsboro directions, if you need more than that, then get your fancy self one of those highfalutin GPS machines.
They cleaned the place up and decorated it in the style of a farmer's man cave. Framed feed sacks, antique wood tools, hand carved cows, etc.
There was only one other couple there when we walked in, (it turned out they weren't a couple at all in the Biblical sense, just a man and a woman that happened to be there at the same time.) We were early since we didn't have to wait for Angel.
I led us to an empty table off to the side, near the door. A lady behind the counter saw us, but was talking on the phone. We waited.

She brought us menus pretty soon though and asked about drinks. Tea and Pepsi.
The menus were simple, colorful, laminated, single sheets. There were fewer offerings than I expected. I located catfish, and barbecue. I also made note of the chalkboard by the counter that touted the day's specials. Still plenty to choose from. When she returned with Adam's drink, she apologized, saying that  they were almost done brewing a fresh batch of tea, my drink would be a few minutes "If you don't mind waiting." She said. Mind? Me mind waiting for a fresh batch of tea? It was obvious at this point that she did not know me. Or maybe she did.
The Food:
I asked Adam if he was ready, he said sure. So I asked about the catfish. "Oh, sorry, we're out, we had an unexpected run on it last night and haven't restocked." She did offer a couple of fish alternatives, Tilapia, and another white fish I'd never heard of, but I told her they were a bit too un-fishy, I liked catfish precisely because it had actual taste. So I asked her about the barbecue.
"Oh, we didn't smoke today." came her apologetic answer. Oh well.
"I'll just have the sirloin and shrimp special then." I was a little disappointed, but how disappointed are you really if your fall-back option is a sirloin steak with shrimp? I had to choose two sides. I went for the baked potato and grudgingly, green beans.
Adam asked for the Chicken Fried steak, fries and corn, off the cob please.
I was concerned about the green beans. In 'country' restaurants, you usually end up with overcooked, flat, either tasteless or too salty, mush.
We waited. The non couple split up and went their separate ways. I learned later that the man was actually Rick, the co-owner. We were being served by Karen.
We waited long enough for me to get sick of the music. The cheap, plastic boom box by the door was tuned to J-98 (The Boot) out of Farmington, a town that makes Hillsboro seem like Gotham City. It was whiny, nasally country music. Lots of steel guitars, lots of drunk guys regaling about their lost loves and pickup trucks, arrrrgggghh...
But, it is 'Farmer's Kitchen', alas.

Then the food arrived. Alongside a juicy, thick looking sirloin and a split open and tender baked potato, were a couple of thick slices of grilled toast. Grilled, beautifully browned and buttered on one side only.
The shrimp basket held a lot of breaded and fried sea creatures, a lot of them. My carb alarm went off just looking at the meal. Bread, breaded shrimp, a fat baked potato. I'd have to eat strategically, no way would I be able to eat all that filler. Concentrate on the steak, nibble on the rest.

Adam's CF Steak looked traditional, just like it is supposed to look. They gave him a choice of gravy, white or brown, he went old school. The corn looked traditional as well, I do not know whether it was fresh off the cob or canned. The fries looked like they could use another minute in the deep fryer, but other than that it looked just fine.
I noticed that something was missing though. Karen was asking how it looked, if we needed anything else, steak sauce, etc.
"The green beans?" I asked. I almost didn't, country style green beans are at best a mediocre item, but I did pay for them.
Karen sighed in disgust with herself. ""I can't believe I forgot your green beans." She said, sincerely upset with her error. I wanted to tell her to never mind since it wasn't that big of a deal for me, but I let it go.
She trotted off and we set in. I buttered and creamed the tater, then sliced an edge off the steak. Perfectly cooked to order. Pink, tender and moist. The taste was exceptional. The char and pepper on the steak was exactly correct. The taste was euphoric, orgasmic, it melted on my tongue. Nothing else in the world mattered at that moment.
I had been worried. There was a big banner at the counter touting "Jefferson County Cattlemen, Best Beef in the state." That to me, looked like a challenge. If you're going to make a claim like that in big, bold letters, you better deliver.
And they did. This was as fine a cut of meat, precisely cooked, as I've had anywhere. The potato was also precise, tender, not burnt, excellent consistency.  The shrimp, well the shrimp was breaded and deep fried. that's the easiest way to overcook shrimp. It was fine, but I actually prefer grilled or steamed shrimp, the breading is too much of a distraction. As far as breaded shrimp goes though, no worse or much better than anywhere else.
Karen brought the beans. I was shocked, amazed, confused.
These were not the flat, dull, mushy beans I was expecting. these were sauteed. Bright green, shiny with oil and littered with bits of onion and garlic. Someone's not quite the quaint, country style cook I'd thought. These were fresh (I think) and still had tooth to them. The garlic, onion and oil gave them the look and taste like you find at more cosmopolitan restaurants. I actually wanted to eat them. Bravo Farmer's Kitchen!
Adam went through his plate pretty quickly, I was still dawdling, agog over the beans and the luscious steak. As planned, I only had one of the toast slices, it was quite excellent prepared that way, about half the shrimp, 90% of the steak, and 1/3, or less, of the potato. I liked it all, but starches bloat me up almost immediately. I got all I wanted, all I could hold, no complaints.
Adam couldn't work up a highly positive adjective to summarize his meal, but he did explain it. "It's chicken fried steak and corn." He said. I understood. It's a mild, almost bland plate at its best.
Summary:
Karen took very good care of us. Near the end of the meal the evening shift showed up and a delightful and friendly, beshorted young lady took care of busing our plates and bowls. Another couple, elderly, had wandered in, they were being taken care of quite well too.
Adam and I headed up to the counter, the young lady met us. This is when I confirmed that our earlier server had been Karen.
As if she knew we were talking about her, she stepped out from the kitchen. I told her the food was quite good. She mentioned that Rick, her husband, was a farmer. "I'm sorry." I told her, then added "That explains why you have to work." She laughed. Farmers in this area are not your ten-thousand acre industrial farms, they are mostly small, traditional, family farms, 120-500 acres. They require a lot of work, for little profit.
Jefferson County was never an agricultural powerhouse. People mostly settled the are because of the mining. Lots of metals, lots of mines.
I did not introduce myself as a food critic, no need making her worry unnecessarily about what I already decided was going to be a pretty good review.
The price was more than reasonable, twenty one bucks and pocket change. You read that right. A mighty good steak, heaps of shrimp, fresh tea, country fried steak, a big baked potato, a generous portion of fries, and some outstanding veggies, for twenty one dollars. Of course, there were only two meals rather than our usual three. I guess we could get by cheaper on this mission just by leaving out Angel. I'll suggest that to her when she gets back.
I was a little disappointed I didn't get catfish, or barbecue, but a small business just can't have everything on hand all the time, a lot would go to waste if they did. Besides, the steak was exceptional.
We've got a real jewel here. I knew they put out pretty good breakfast fare, but they've proven themselves equally competent on the more challenging meals. I will go back, mainly to try the catfish and probably for that occasional Saturday morning coffee and waffle.

Cracker Barrel

1193 Scenic Drive
Herculaneum, Mo.

We were going to Chipotle Mexican Grill, but Angel looked at their online menu and said it looked like fast food, just with fresher ingredients and that she wanted something a little more substantial. I'd mentioned earlier in the week that CB had added a low impact section to their menu and that some of it looked interesting.
So off we went.
The conversation topic was, of course, the impending winter storm and deep freeze predicted to follow it. It was estimated that the real ugliness would start around midnight. By the time we left, around 5:00 P.M. though it was still somewhat pleasant, temps in the low forties, though the clouds had started to move in.
We got to the place and it appeared not too busy.
We had to walk through the country-folk-kitsch storefront to get to the dining area. A stack of metal chickens caught my eye, I don't know why.

The Place:
The dining area walls were lined with more old, useless junk than my mother's attic. Pictures, ads, old sports equipment, tools, and firearms. Too much if you ask me, it was like saturation decorating, far more quaint junk than necessary to make the point. I did appreciate the fire in the large fireplace though. It made the place smell hickory smoked, like the tobacco barns of my youth.
We were led to a table and offered menus. Erica stopped by and asked about drinks. She was a young, tall, rail thin girl with an easy smile and a sweet voice. Tea, sweet tea with no ice and Coke. She left us alone with our enormous and flimsy paper menus. Adam played the silly little golf tee game, solved it first try.
The Food:
I hadn't firmly decided on the lighter fare. There was pecan crusted catfish, Corn Flake oven baked chicken, a nice looking pork chop and a pepper grilled sirloin. The thing that made these items qualify as lighter fare was the lack of grain products. The offered sides were things like a cucumber, onion and tomato salad, green beans, broccoli, a baked sweet potato and mixed veggies. The light meals didn't even come with the customary corn bread or biscuits, and there was no gravy anywhere in sight. This is the kind of stuff I eat during the week. Lots of veggies, very little bread, breading, pasta or potatoes. I'm not saying it works for everyone, I'm not a diet snob, but it works for me and I can stick with it.
The drinks arrived and I have to say that appearance-wise the tea looked fresh and bright. the taste wasn't bad, I'll give it a score later.
Erica returned in good time and we ordered.
Me: Catfish, the cucumber salad and green beans. Angel surprised me and ordered from the lite side as well, the oven baked chicken, the baked sweet potato and the salad. Adam scoffed at us and stuck with the more traditional chicken fried chicken, broccoli. mashed potatoes and cornbread.
Once Erica left, out came the smart phones and tablet. Angel complained about no signal, I'd already scanned for wifi and found none, at all. Adam played a game.
They have smart phones, I have the tablet. A heavily researched 7" Asus ME173x, in case you are interested.  It was my Christmas present. I've been using it to take notes and pictures for these outings since I got it. I've created a simple little database entry form for critique notes, and the rear camera (it has one on the front side as well, for my vast and rapidly growing collection of selfies) is a 5MP device that takes excellent low light photos. All the pictures in this post came from the thing, no flash required. Adam hates the flash part of our outings, so this helps soothe family tensions.
The food arrived pretty quickly. I noticed a problem with my plate right away. More on that later, as well. The little salad was gorgeous. Bright green and red, fresh looking. The catfish filet looked crispy-breaded, the green beans were cooked southern-style. By that I mean way overcooked, to the  point of complete flaccidity. I don't know why we southerners do this to a perfectly good vegetable, but we do. My mother did it, her mother did it, and my two other grandmothers cooked this way as well.*  At least CB, like my grandmothers, cooked them in bacon fat. Sort of a country risotto, infuse the timid tasting article with slow cooked  flavor. Still, the beans were as limp and lifeless as the skin on a drowned person.
The salad indeed was crisp and fresh, as tasty as it was pretty. My catfish however, though it originally looked crispy, was not. Huge mistake, huge rookie mistake. The green beans were wet, duh. So wet that they could not hold their own juices. The juice bled all over the plate, turning the crust on the bottom of the fish into an unappetizing mush. The fish itself tasted pretty good, surprisingly so, but the look and feel of that soaked bottom ruined it. It would not have mattered if the fish were traditionally battered or breaded then deep fried, the problem was the bean leakage. A simple ramekin would have solved this. Bottom line, for easily foreseeable and fixable reasons, catfish=fail.
Angel's chicken was pretty, golden brown. this appearance was highly misleading though. The brown was not a result of perfect oven toasting, it was because - Corn Flakes. The chicken itself was a little dry, and from the taste I got, nearly tasteless. It appeared that no other spices were added to the cereal breading. In other words, pretty bland. No discernible pepper, garlic powder, or even salt. The sweet potato was better, so Angel says. I tried a bit and found it positively disgusting, a squashy-sweet flavor and texture, yuck. She liked it though, said it was like pumpkin pie. My point exactly, I hate pumpkin pie. Adam took one bite of his broccoli (which was served in a ramekin) then pushed the little bowl aside. "No flavor." He uttered. He finished his chicken, though he said the gravy tasted like flour and milk. A  recurring theme was emerging. He didn't care for the cornbread either, though I tried a little and found it to be just fine. This was not a sweet cornbread muffin mix, this was cornmeal and flour, milk, eggs and fat. Pretty much just like the simple hoe cake, or skillet cornbread I grew up with. I liked it, he didn't. Oh well. The mashed potatoes were 'okay', he said, but could use something, maybe more butter (flavor).
I rescued my meal though. I was not full, that's what a low carb meal will often do, leave you not-bloated. Which is a good thing once you get used to it. I haven't had heartburn in several months. I had room for something decadent though, so without even polling the family I asked Erica for some apple pie and a cup of coffee.
This, CB can do quite well. I refused the ice cream, since what is the point of making apple pie and then boasting about the 'no added sugar' method of making it if you are just going to drop a hyper-sweet ice cream bomb on top of it. I did forget to tell them about the other part though. So it arrived hot. Call me an idiot, you wouldn't be the first, but I like apple pie a lot, but I like it cold. Refrigerator cold, especially with coffee. But hot wasn't too bad. The taste was good, not overly sweet, the crust was flaky and not dry or burnt on the edges. This pie saved the meal.
Summary:
My goal was to sample some of the 'healthy' choices. Mission accomplished. These are great ideas, catering to a rising number of health-conscious customers. I like seeing choices like this, especially at places that are traditionally breaded, deep fried and gravy-heavy. However, this meal overall, was not a success. I do not think it was because of any problem unique to the lite-fare menu items though. Even Adam's traditional meal was mostly bland and uninteresting.
That and simple serving issues, like having my fish swimming in bean juice, took a good idea, a potentially great idea and turned it into a completely lackluster affair.
The bill for our meal, including my pie, was a reasonable forty three dollars and change. No complaints there. The service, Erica especially, was quite good. Attentive, friendly, detail oriented, ready to please. At one point a manager of some kind stopped by every table to check up on the customers. In my book, this is always a good thing.
But the food was simply disappointing. Unimaginative, timid, bland.Comfort food does not need to be bland and lifeless. Maybe there's a customer base that likes their food this way. I know that CB was one of my father's favorite places to eat. I don't get it though. It's like a good idea being executed by someone that's never had the original, traditional foods they offer. It looks right, but it just isn't
Oh yeah, the tea. Somewhere between a + 2.5 and + 3. Not bad at all.

Epilogue:
The storm hit, you may have heard about it. We got a foot of snow followed by bone-cracking low temperatures. So this time the Henny Penny-like media-meteorologists got it right.



* Yes I did have three grandmothers. Ask me about that sometime.

Fountain City Grille

207 E Main St
De Soto, Mo
On the Web
On Facebook


I've described De Soto before. Historically it's a railroad town. In 1859 the St. Louis Iron Mountain Railroad built a repair center there, today it is owned by Missouri Pacific. The tracks are still in use, the repair shops still functioning. Main street runs along the tracks, the old buildings reminiscent of an earlier time, which the city works hard and proudly  to maintain.
I took this photo from the parking lot of Fountain City Grille. Directly behind the guardrail in the foreground are the tracks, the buildings are on main street. Directly behind main street, the land and city rises quickly and steeply. The various streets behind Main terrace the community.
The Place:
Fountain City, De Soto's nickname of old, reflects the many small but ornate fountains that can be found around the town. The Fountain City Grille is located across the tracks from Main Street in a big, old building known as the Arlington Hotel. Yes they offer rooms for rent, pretty nice ones I am told.
The first floor of the Arlington though, is the Grille itself.
You enter from the front and walk down a hallway filled with antiques, most of them more industrial than delicate, reflecting the iron horse industry.
We were seated and told that Heather would be waiting on us. Sure enough, this prediction was accurate. A young lady with long black hair twisted into a ponytail and pulled forward draping her left shoulder arrived. She welcomed us, brought us rolls in a cloth napkin covered basket and asked about drinks and appetizers. Looking around I was pleased to see that they'd stayed with the decor, walls painted black, the old trim in white, the rough wood floor painted a very dark brown. Sitting in this place makes you feel like you're posing in an old black and white photo.
We declined the appetizer, but asked for tea, Pepsi and Pepsi. The drinks were delivered promptly, we were ready to place our meal orders.
The Food;
I was intrigued by the second most expensive item on the menu, the prime rib. Fans will recall that a few weeks ago at Tanglefoot in Festus I'd ordered prime rib for the first time I could recall.  I didn't care for it one single bit. The prime rib at the Grille was listed as the evening's special, and described as 'melt in your mouth'.  For the sake of my fans I felt obligated to give the meat another try, to see if it actually was the cut I didn't like or just Tanglefoot's version of it. I sided it with mashed potatoes and also like at TF, green beans. This would be pretty close to an apples to apples comparison.
Angel asked for the seafood fettuccine and a side salad. Adam ordered a filet mignon with corn and mashed potatoes.
I had one of the rolls in case the meat was awful. They were light, fluffy, and delivered with actual butter.
Angel's salad came soon, a small, simple thing, yet fresh and crisp. The dressing she opted for was a sweet vinaigrette, and it lived up to its title, it was very, very sweet.
Sometime during the twenty or more minute wait for the main courses, someone pointed out the silverware. It was a mix of several different old patterns. Quaint, charming.
The wait was indeed rather long considering that they weren't really terribly busy. The music didn't help much, a local radio station 'Fresh' 102.5 out of St. Louis. An eclectic mix of pop music from the 70's through the 00's. Frankly I think a pop radio station playing at a pricey restaurant is a bit tacky, but I guess it's not that big of a deal. There would be live music later, outside on the patio.
We chatted and watched people come and go, the staff was all dressed head to toe in black. Tasteful and consistent with the decor.

Prime Rib

 Finally, the meals arrived, Heather packed all three on one very large tray. She unloaded the tray deftly and we all stared at the prime rib. It didn't look at all like Tanglefoot's. This was dark, charred and juicy looking, like a very big, very competently cooked steak. The green beans looked tasty as well. Green beans are not hard to make right, and these looked spot on. Take note Tanglefoot, this is what green beans and prime rib should look like.
I pushed the serrated knife into the meat, a portion fell away as if fallen by the mere suggestion of being sliced with a knife. The whole steak was that way, tender, moist, meaty. Buttery tender, it did indeed melt in my mouth. Now I get what all the fuss is about when it comes to prime rib. The potatoes were perfect as well, a little bit of rough texture. The green beans were sauteed very well, a little tooth, a simple flavor, I actually wanted more.

Filet mignon

  Adam's filet, smaller than my slab of meat, looked just as good. Angel's plate looked a bit odd, a thick, bright orange sauce over the pasta. It was described on the menu as "Creamy Vodka shrimp sauce with lobster meat tossed with fettuccine."
She said the sauce had a tomato-soupy taste to it, but she didn't know what a vodka shrimp sauce was supposed to taste like. She really liked the big shrimp and lobster chunks but would have preferred a simpler sauce, maybe an Alfredo. She ate most of it, but said she'd probably not order it again.

Seafood fettuccine 

My meat was terrific all the way through, I went on and on about it, sharing chunks of the massive meat slab generously. "Comparing this prime rib to Tanglefoot's is like comparing a baloney sandwich with . . .with. . .  with something I don't like!" I told them. I absolutely loved it.
Heather stopped by and refilled our drinks, I almost switched to water, but she'd already filled my glass. The tea was not very good. Old, a little bitter, and I detected an old, stale perfumey aftertaste.
Chef Tremyane (see the Grille's Facebook page) made an appearance. When he asked, I told him I liked his food very much. I wasn't lying, this meal was quite delightful.
Summary:
The food was flawless, except for maybe the pasta sauce, but since going in we didn't know what it was supposed to taste like, maybe it was something quite good to someone else.
The meat was astounding. I don't think I'll order the prime rib often, it is quite pricey and quite large, but at least I now know what it is when it is done well.
Heather did a great job, she'd even responded confidently when I ordered and had asked for her recommendation for the done-ness level. Adam did the same, her recommendations were spot on, she knew the menu and the capabilities of the kitchen. She was friendly and quick to smile.
The service itself was a bit slower than I generally like, but we don't do fine dining very often, it may just have been the chosen pace.
Although the dress code was casual and the place is more folksy charm then stuffy, snooty, high end dining, the price put this place clearly on the high end. The bill came to a shocking seventy one dollars and change, making this clearly one of the more expensive places we visit.
At twenty two dollars each, the two steaks certainly drove the price up, but I have to say, it was worth it in quality.
The drinks, at two dollars each, should have been of pretty good quality. The tea simply was not. I've had worse, but not by much. On the PJTea scale I'm going to give it a -3. I sort of expect that at a fast food place, a fine restaurant though, I expect much better. The drink is a palette cleanser, when it is awful it does not help an otherwise great meal.
Great food, seriously good. A bit pricey, service a bit sluggish, but certainly not a waste of money.

Tanglefoot

1198 Gannon Drive
Festus, Mo.
www.tanglefootsteakhouse.com
'Tanglefoot' refers to an early name for the city of Festus. The story is that Crystal City, (then known as  'New Detroit') being a company town based around the large plate glass factory there, didn't allow alcohol to be sold in the town. Festus rose up just outside the city's limits and boomed in the industry of booze sales to the factory workers. They would, according to the story, get so wasted that they would stagger and fall several times on the way back, as if they had tangled their feet. I'm not making that up.

The Place:
True to its legend, the restaurant known as Tanglefoot Steakhouse serves alcohol, a wide variety of beers, big name and craft. It is located across from the Home Depot.
It's a large place with a  separate bar/bistro section and main dining areas. I wanted to go there because I didn't want pizza or burgers, and because we hadn't visited in quite a while. Our recollections were not very positive, we recalled sparse portions and high prices for them.
We were led to a booth which, like the other booths, looked odd. The tables were four foot by four foot squares. This meant that those across from you at your table were quite a distance away. The place was packed, the din of the other patrons, mostly family groups, was loud enough that we had to practically shout to talk to Adam. Whereas Angel and I could hear each other at normal conversation level, he could not.
I didn't like this, at all.
The Food:
I glanced through the menu, I was in the mood for a small steak, the aroma of charring meat as we entered aroused a primal urge. No, not that one, it was the the hunger one, though sometimes I do confuse the two. I wanted charred meat.
Phyllis took our drink order. She seemed experienced and focused. Sometimes younger waiters seem distracted, confused or just stupid, Phyllis was certainly not. Tea, sweet tea and root beer.
By the time she brought our drinks we were ready to order. Angel announced she was going to dine on an appetizer followed by a dinner salad.
Phyllis recited the daily special, prime rib with shrimp, a baked potato and a side salad. I couldn't recall ever having prime rib. I was originally going to have something similar, a small filet with shrimp and Alfredo sauce, but I decided to step out to the edge and go with the special. I asked that the potato be replaced with green beans. I'm trying to cut back on the massive amount of carbs that normally make up most of my meals.
Angel ordered the Lobster Rangoons, an appetizer I recalled being quite good. She added a steakhouse salad, which came topped with onion rings and fried portabello mushrooms. Adam opted for the pork steak with mashed potatoes and green beans. Why not? You can't go wrong with a simple thing like green beans. (or can you?)
Around us, on the walls were several TV's, all the old CRT type, all tuned to sports. Fortunately they were all muted. Also on the walls were several nice framed and matte'd  B&W photos of Festus in the past. Angel and Adam turned the massive table top into a field for an impromptu tabletop soccer game, using a crumpled up straw wrapper as the ball. This embarrassed me intensely.

Lobster Rangoon

The tea, well the tea was not very good. I'll give it a minus one on the newly instituted PJTea scale.*
The Lobster rolls arrived first. At $8.99 that was more than a buck each. However, they were worth it. We fell in love with these things when we first had them a few years back. It amazes me that a place that can turn out such a wonderful, complex item like this could stumble so badly on other, simpler things.... more on that later. The Rangoons were wonderful, rich, creamy, crisp and flavorful. You could taste the lobster. I had one, just one. Angel got the rest since Adam and seafood don't like each other.

My side salad

My salad arrived a few minutes later. Simple, fresh, perfectly adequate. Well, except for the tomatoes, there were none. I plucked the croutons off and gave them to Adam, because. . .unnecessary carbs. I also asked for my salad dressing on the side since that's what dieters do. Sure enough, I only used a little. I had to cut up the handsome, but too big to eat in one bite, cucumber wedge.

Prime Rib

The main courses arrived in good time, I'd finished off my salad and Angel had devoured the Rangoons. What was placed in front of me was quite less than beautiful. Under the ramekin of beans (in the picture, between the beans and the lemon wedge) was a napkin, probably there to soak up the juices from the steak. It was not pretty, saturated soggy and brownish it was not appetizing at all. The prime rib looked pale, a sickly beige and dull pink slab of meat with generous fat and gristle sparkling in the light.  They had also provided a ramekin of au jus (gesundheit!) that only tasted greasy and salty. The green beans were thick with bacon bits and onions. I tried them first, my second bite of them was my last, same for Adam and his beans. They tasted like under-cooked frozen green beans. Even though there were generous portions of bacon bits and diced onions, they were incredibly bland.

Steakhouse Salad

I struggled to cut a piece of meat, struggled more to separate the strip of fat away. It was tough, chewy and had a taste that I recalled from childhood when mom would boil up a roast. It was not a pleasant taste. It  too, was bland. The texture, tough and chewy were more pronounced than any discernible taste. Even with a dousing of the au jus (gesundheit!) I felt no urge to finish it. So I didn't. I ate about half out of the middle. The off-putting appearance, a sickly pink, like 50's phones and toilets, did nothing at all to make it more appetizing. I really wished I'd stuck with my original choice, the small filet. The shrimp were garlic-y, big and also rubbery . A couple were cold.  The flavor was good, but they'd been over-cooked.

Pork Steak

Angel's salad was loaded with shredded steak of some kind, there were several onion rings and mushrooms. Both being breaded and deep fried the salad was actually pretty high calorie and very filling. The breading on the mushrooms was heavy and hard, she suspected they were of the frozen variety. She only finished about half of it, boxed up the rest. She remarked that my plate, lacking anything deep fried or breaded, actually looked much healthier than hers.
Adam tore out the fat from his pork steak, there was a lot of it. Overall the sauce slathered meat received a 'not bad' from the boy.

Summary:
Disappointing. At sixty two dollars and change, very disappointing. The only excellent dish was the appetizer, the lobster Rangoons. Everything else was mediocre to lousy. The green beans were easily the worst I've had at any restaurant.
As for the Prime rib, I can't really completely condemn it until I've had the dish somewhere else. I don't recall ever ordering it anywhere else, so maybe this was exactly what it was  supposed to be. . If it is typical of the type, I doubt if I'll ask for it again. I really wish I'd stuck with the filet.
Our server, Phyllis, did an excellent job. Substitutions were correct, service was quick and complete. She checked on us a couple of times and refilled our drinks promptly. Thanks primarily to her efforts, I can't say anything bad at all about the service.
Angel shook her head as we left. "I just can't see what the draw is." She said. I looked behind the restaurant, and saw a large hotel. Maybe that was it.
Unlike the last time we went, the portions this time were generous, they were overpriced and just not very good.
Please comment or email if I'm calling this wrong.

_____________________

*PJTea Scale

Last week at Pizza Junction, Steve, the manager, was the first person ever in a restaurant to ask what I thought of his joint's tea. I responded that it was about average. In honor of his asking, I have named the new grading system the PJ (for Pizza Junction) Tea scale where all other tea will be judged as being either better or worse than Pizza Junction's. I have also found perfect zero. In Hopkinsville, Kentucky last week, I went to a Godfather's Pizza. The self-serve un-sweet tea dispenser there served straight water, no tea at all in the tea.