The Sammich Shack

10910 Hwy 21
Hillsboro, Mo.

Leon's Prime Cuts/Sammich Shack Facebook page.


I saw this place around the first of the year. A simple roadside sign, red painted on white. Another one, similar, was mounted to the roof of a small camping trailer in a parking lot, just south of the intersection of Highway 21 and Highway B.
I looked it up on the web later, didn't find it. I searched Facebook and found comments referring to it on Leon's Prime Cuts page. Yup, there it was, menu and everything.
So for the next couple of weeks, I tried to find a good time to stop

by. On this Saturday morning I was up and out well before noon, which for me is kind of unusual. I was heading to Desoto to try to grab some photos, for historical purposes, of the Ball Creek Bowling Alley. Or should I say the former bowling alley, it burned down earlier in the week. I'd never actually been to the pin den, but I do pass by it nearly every week.  I knew The Shack didn't open until 11, so I got the pictures, turned around and headed back to Hillsboro, getting there around five minutes past. Good enough. They had just turned on the 'OPEN' light, the window opened as I approached. A cheery young lady, Terra, greeted me. I scanned the white board menu.
The Food:
"Excuse me, what are Party Girl Potatoes?" I asked. I heard potatoes covered in cheese, she may have said something else, but she had me at potatoes covered in cheese.
The menu was pretty simple, I liked that. Pulled pork, brisket, ribs and burgers. Other sides were chips and 'Ho-Made Slaw'. I like slaw but I prefer it to be made by food service professionals, rather than. . . you know. . .
I asked for a burger with cheese, the prostitute potatoes, a bottle of water and a quarter slab of ribs to take home to Angel. She's a better judge of that sort of thing. I will eat ribs, but usually only if that's the only meat choice.
Terra told me that it would take a few minutes and that she'd bring it out to me when it was ready. No problem, I spend a lot of time in my car so I keep it pretty stocked with provisions. By that I mean books. So I sat there in the lot, reading and listening to the Tappet Brothers on St. Louis Public Radio. I also thought about where I would actually eat my lunch. There were no picnic tables, not that it mattered, it was twenty nine degrees outside. I'd eat in the car.
Before long Terra came out of the trailer hauling a plastic bag and came toward me. I lowered the window and thanked her, then drove to my favorite place in town to dine in my car, the Hillsboro Cemetery.
Long time fans will recall that I have hobbies other than griping about restaurant food. I visit cemeteries and photograph them, for the site 'findagrave' for the past six years and for the Jefferson County Historical Society for the past year, since they lowered their admission standards and let me join. I do other things for them as well, like  photographing every church in the county, but my heart always pulls me toward cemeteries.

Cemeteries are a great place for a quick lunch in the car. Quiet, peaceful, most often there is no one else there.  Well, living people anyhow and the dead ones don't seem to mind my frequent visits.
So I opened it all up, and it was good. It was what I call a diner style burger. Thin patty, standard bun, lettuce, pickle and onions off to the side. I also found a little tub of Baby Ray's Barbecue Sauce. I threw all that together and bit in. Yummy! A good, old fashioned, peppery griddle burger.
Most of the upscale burger and steak places feel the need to put a half pound of beef on a burger. I don't care for that. Give me a thin patty and I'm good. If I'm still hungry, I can get another one. I could eat this thing with one hand and get my mouth around it without popping my jaw.
I tested the Party Girl Potatoes. I was not disappointed. Exactly as advertised, cubed potatoes

slathered in melty cheddar cheese. This portion was not huge either. When I was finished, I was satisfied, not bloated. I finished up my meal and another chapter and left for my other errands.
When I got home later I presented the ribs to Angel.
"That's a good sign." she said pulling the meat of the bone. "It fell right off." This was referring to a place we didn't review a couple of weeks ago. The ribs there put up a fight. It took utensils to tear the meat off the bone. Angel likes it to basically fall apart at the touch.
"Quite nice." she said after a mouthful.
Summary:

All good. Seriously, all good. The food was first rate, not overthought or frilly. A good burger, nice side, all prepared simply and properly. Terra was a delight, funny, helpful and thoughtful. The bill, for the burger and side, the 1/4 slab of ribs and a bottle of water was pocket change over ten dollars. Nothing to complain about there either.
I don't know what the long term plans are for The Sammich Shop, but I sure hope it stays around for a long while. In my opinion, because they kept it simple and light, this is the best burger in Hillsboro.  Certainly better than any of the fast food outlets, but also better than a couple of other places in town that I will not name here. (Locals will figure it out, there's not that many places to get a burger in town.)
They've only been open since the first of the year, I really, really hope they do well. We need decent places to grab a quick meal, especially if we plan to dine in the car in a cemetery with a good book.

Taytro's Bar and Bistro

343 North Creek Drive
Festus, MO
On Facebook

Still tethered to my work tasks, I assigned my able co-reviewers, Angel and Adam, to take pictures, make observations, then report back their findings. They were not alone, Tyler, Angel's oldest son, his lovely and charming wife Tonya, and their two year old daughter Kensington, were their guests. They were in town to take the lovable little brat to the zoo.
Yeah, I know, I usually say I don't like kids, but this is family. Kensington was a little shy, but I helped her bond with me a bit better by stealing her teddy bear, twice. This at least led to animosity, which is in my experience, the crucial first step in any lasting relationship.
I've been to this place several times, I didn't need to see it again just to write about it.
When they got home I approached them one at a time for their assessment.
The Place:
Taytro's is one of our favorite joints. It's not large or fancy, but the food is usually pretty darn good. We've been trying to get Tyler there for a while. He's of Cajun descent. Though he's never been to Louisiana, his father and grandfather carried remnants of that culture their entire lives. BTW, Tyler is the young man that created the logo for this blog site. He was kind of tough as a stepkid, but he has grown up to be a very decent, respectable, responsible man, a loving and devoted husband and doting father.
They were seated and waited on by a young lady who Tonya said reminded her of Tara Reid. I made note of that and looked it up later. It turns out that Reid is some sort of celebrity that even I might have seen at some time.  She was in several movies I'd heard of, mostly ones that I never bothered watching.
The Food:

Shrimp Etouffee

Tyler had the Shrimp Etouffee and the fries. "Delicious, but I don't really have anything to compare it too, I've never had etouffee before."
I found that hard to believe.
"I find that hard to believe." I said. "Too bad, it's true." he replied. "I also had the house salad with the poppy seed dressing. I really liked that." He added, verbally italicizing that word just like I wrote it.
Tonya had the Fried Shrimp Po' Boy, one of my favorites. "It was good, not overly shrimpy." She said, with that charming, heart-warming smile of hers.

Pulled Pork

Kensington had the chicken strips and fries. Pressed for a comment, I finally got her to tell me "Not good for you." about the chicken. Her way, according to her mom, to say she doesn't like something. Tonya added that the fries were seasoned and the baby girl didn't seem to like that either.
Adam had the pulled pork sandwich and the house-made chips. They'd put the barbecue sauce on the side this time, add as much or little as you like. He of course, liked it, it's what he always gets there. "The chips were a little too spicy." he added, no too spicy, but more than I usually like."
Angel pushed the envelope, asking for something not even on the menu.
"The menu said to ask about the oysters, so I did. I wanted a fried oyster Po'

Fried Oyster Po' Boy.

Boy."  Tara went to the back to conference with the chef and came back saying yup, they could do that. "The breading was a little heavy, but not too bad."
Tyler added "I tried one of the oysters, it was pretty good, mainly because it was heavily breaded."
He'd said he'd never had an oyster he actually enjoyed before.
I'll take them at their word.

Gator Bites and Fried Ravioli

For appetizers, they'd ordered two, the 'Gator Bites' and since this was near St. Louis, the Fried Ravioli. All agreed that the gator bites were good, a little chewy, but not too much so. They also all agreed on the ravioli. Nothing to write home about. Tonya even added that they tasted 'canned'.This is what you'll find at most places though, only a few in my experience put a lot of effort into this tidbit.

Summary:

Shrimp Po' Boy

Taytro's is a sure thing. It's just good. They don't have a huge menu, but what they do make is mostly above par. I failed to mention the drinks, Tonya and Tyler, to my disappointment had water, Angel had sweet tea, and Adam had a Coke.
"For what it's worth I wasn't very impressed with the water." Tonya said, sensing my disapproval with their non-committal drink choice.
The service was great, Tara kept the drinks filled and the servings timely. "If we lived here we'd certainly go back." Tyler concluded.
Full Disclosure, a confession: I'm probably part of the reason Kensington didn't eat anything. Earlier in the day, while still trying to establish a relationship with her, I applied step two in my secret formula for getting girls to like me. Bribe them with food. We'd shared several peanuts, even after her mom had told me that the little tot didn't like peanuts. I know this works, my own granddaughter, Caprice, remembers us sharing barbecue potato chips back when she wasn't much older. Even Angel remembers where we went on our first date. Burger King, 'cause I know what the ladies like.
Taytro's is good, better than just good.
More to that point, I'm not at all nervous about sending people there.

Main Street BBQ

1620 Highway Z
Pevely, Mo.
On the Web
On Facebook


The Place:
Just East of I-55 In Pevely. Big sign, you can't miss it.
I saw this on their Facebook page:
FACEBOOK FAN APPRECIATION DAYS!!! Show us this post on your mobile device, or print at home like a coupon and we'll take 10% off any order today and tomorrow. PLUS, we'll give you a FREE bottle of sauce with any order $20 or more (pre tax, pre discount). WAIT, THERE'S MORE! Leave a comment about your favorite Main Street item and three random folks will win t- shirts! 
Unfortunately I saw it after we were there, not before.
Which leads us to today's tech tip:  If you are going out to eat, fancy or simple, check the social media sites before you go. This sort of offer is not unusual for places that are social-media-savvy.
When you step in to MSBBQ you immediately encounter the counter. On the front of it is the menu in big red letters painted on white boards. There are also printed paper menus and some places to sit for a while to figure it out if you're not familiar with the offerings. We'd been there a couple of times before, but not recently, so it took us only a few minutes.
The Food:
I knew they made good meat, very good in most cases, but I was on a mission. I'd looked at the online menu earlier in the week and had decided to step off the comfy smoked meat grid. I ordered a bowl of 'Beef Brisket and pulled pork Chili', with cheese and onions.
Angel asked for the half chicken plate, BBQ style. I reused my brilliant joke about whether she preferred the front half or the back half of the bird. She sided hers with red potato salad and corn, cob-style. Adam ordered the Main Street Special, brisket, with kettle chips and baked beans. We paid up, were handed our cups and I poured my 'fresh brewed' tea. (more on this later). Angel took a taste of the sweet tea then stepped over to the Dr. Pepper. Adam poured, to no one's surprise, Pepsi.
Since the meat is already slow cooked and just needs to be plated, the wait for the food was pretty short. My chili arrived first.They served it with two packages of oyster crackers and two wedges of Texas toast. I don't like oysters so I didn't even open the crackers.*
I stirred the cheese and onions into the nearly overflowing soup. It was chunky, quite chunky. Beans, meat chunks, tomatoes in good quantity. Once I decided it had had enough time to cool a little I took a sip of the broth.
Savory, smoky, meaty.
Usually chili is made with ground beef. I have had it with other proteins though.  Many years ago I was stationed in Northern Japan and was invited to be on the judging panel for a chili contest, sponsored by none other than the base's quite sizable Hispanic Club.
Oh baby, there was some variety there. Deer meat, tofu, fish, foul, pork and beef of all cuts. I recall that as a fact, not as a taste though. The Hispanic club chefs as a rule, were very generous with the various chili peppers, that I remember well. I think I belched and burnt internally for several days afterward.
Since then I've left competitive chili making behind. I prefer a milder mix. I don't mind loosening my sinuses or breaking a little brow sweat, but the idea of making it so hot that it should be registered as a weapon of mass indigestion I simply don't find appetizing. The broth in MSBBQ's chili was just about right in that regard.
Angel's luscious plate arrived. I bore the heavily sauced and slightly charred starboard side of a chicken. Small bowls held the potatoes and the corn, there was also some fancy cut pickles and Texas toast. I tasted a little of the chicken. The meat was very juicy, tender and perfectly cooked. I also stabbed a small bit of potato. It was creamy and I detected a hint of dill, I liked that. I used to take new potatoes and boil them in water along with a head of dill. It gives them a bright, fresh, earthy taste. Angel threw herself into her meal with the usual gusto. Adam pushed his beans around in his bowl then set them aside. He found onion chunks. His  brisket though was 'not bad'. He did discard the bread after a while though, and just savored the meat. I tried it, a little drier than the chicken, but not too much. Brisket is one of the hardest things to get right at a barbecue joint. This tough cut of meat is quite a challenge for anyone, any style. MSBBQ was pretty good. I've not had enough brisket to give it a rating though.
I couldn't finish my chili. There was so much meat and beans that it filled me pretty quick. It was pretty good, not my all-time favorite, but the meat made for interesting and pleasant textures. I'd add more chopped bell pepper and maybe some celery myself. But there was nothing wrong with what they served. Chili is a very subjective thing, very hard to judge one against the other.
Angel was on her fifth or sixth napkin when she complained "I'm out of chicken!" Sure enough there was nothing left but a few scarred bones and some slivers of skin.  I tried some of the skin, it was sweet, wonderfully sweet.
Summary:
The bill for this complete meal was only twenty eight dollars and change, less than ten dollars each. For generous portions of quality cut and cooked meat, this was a bargain. The food service was fast, we did have a guy stop by and check on us, so the service was pretty good. This is not a fine-dining facility so not much service is actually required or expected. This is barbecue, not haughty French cuisine on white linen tablecloths.
The tea. Oh well, even though their signage boasted 'fresh brewed', I could only infer that they meant, at best, 'same-day'. It was cloudy, murky and muddy tasting.  On the PJTea scale I'd give it a -1 to -2. Maybe we'll call it -1.75.  I knew it probably would be.  I saw the coffee pot when we were pouring our drinks, it looked old and over-baked. If coffee isn't poured out and restarted every hour at worst, then the likelihood that the tea will be fresh is very slim.
The food though was pretty darn good. I was quite happy with the risk I took ordering the chili. Their real specialty, the meats, were excellent. This is good since our nearby beloved Bandanna's burned down we've missed slow cooked meat. Main Street barbecue is an excellent alternative, and a worthy competitor.



________________________

*That's a joke. I know oyster crackers contain no actual oysters.

Two Girls, Four Wheels

http://www.2girls4wheels.com/
On Facebook

Food truck season is here!
The office building where I work is also occupied by three or four other companies. A management recruiter, a medical billing company and a hospitality company, (I think they manage hotels). This means that our building holds hundreds of bored and mostly hunched over cubicle workers. Often at lunch time on nice days many of the workers escape for a spell and venture out into what is known as 'outdoors'. In other words it is a food truck's dream come true. Which begs the question, do food trucks actually dream? I'm no mechanic or metaphysicist but I think that it is more likely that they don't.
There had been little printed signs up in the hallways for several days. Coming soon, one we hadn't been visited by before.
2Girls 4Wheels. The sign promised St. Louis style food. If you don't know what that is, well shame on you. It means exactly:
1. Meat
2. Potatoes
3. Fried ravioli
4. Gooey Butter cake.
5. Square, thin crust pizza with Provel cheese.
It turns out they didn't offer #5, which was fine with me.  They didn't offer #3, the locally ubiquitous appetizer, fried ravioli either. I think I know why, my theory has to do with mobile kitchens on pitted and frequently stop and go trafficked city streets and a huge sloshing vat of 360 degree cooking oil. They don't offer French fries either. I bet I'm right about this.
For meat they offered midwestern favorites, pulled pork, St. Louis style cheese steaks (with provel), chili and Budweiser braised brats. For sides they listed baked beans, 'parmesian brussel sprouts' and Billy Goat Chips.
The chips are a locally made brand, an offshoot product of a thriving downtown restaurant.
As I stepped up to the truck, the only customer there at the early time, I locked into my head what I would order. The truck was not huge as food trucks go, nor terribly new. I got the feeling that this operation was still new, still working their way up the food truck hierarchy.
"Pulled pork and the Billy Goat Chips." I called.
One of the 2Girls wrote down the order and called it back to the other of the 2Girls. The speaker mounted to the exterior of the truck was blasting Simon and Garfunkel. Odd, I thought, I like S&G as much as the next middle aged white guy, I'd just never heard it 'blasted', nor thought it ever needed to be. "Bridge over Troubled Waters" just doesn't improve that much with higher volume.
I told the 2Girls that I had a question about the chips. I was sure it was one that they'd never heard before. They answered before I asked though, like they had heard it before, "Yes they're made from real Billy Goat." They laughed, I wasn't amused that my joke had been predicted. Never one to get cut off at the comic knees like that I spat out: "Organic and free ranged Billy Goat?" 
They handed me a tiny brown paper bag with the Billy Goat logo on it. Just to make sure I checked the ingredients. They had lied, billy goat was NOT on the list, just potatoes. I didn't let them see how disappointed I was though.
I was starting to be concerned for them though, after a few minutes I was still the only one at the truck. They asked me if any signs got posted ahead of their visit, I assured them that there were plenty.
I was concerned because I like small businesses to succeed. I felt an unrealistic and irrational  sense of responsibility being their only customer at the moment, I mentally urged others to show up. Yeah, that was my contribution, I thought positive thoughts.
Soon enough they handed me the foil-topped paper bowl and I went on my merry way. Fortunately they had parked near my favorite lunch spot, my car. I had my own drink, a bottle of water, a roll of paper towels in the passenger seat, and my book.
I couldn't read while I ate the sandwich, it was bulging with meat and slaw and was definitely a two-handed meal. So I turned up the radio to 107.3 and rocked to the real classics as I chomped into the big sandwich. It was thick and meaty, and topped with a pretty good slaw. The pork was moist and smokey without being sickly sweet. The kaiser roll was soft, but dense enough to keep it all together.
The chips were pretty good, but hardly gourmet. Nothing fancy at all. I had bibbed up with a paper towel hanging from my top shirt button, but didn't ever drip any on myself. Mostly because I kept the back side of the sandwich in the paper bowl, using it like a wrapper. Stuff fell out for sure, but only into the bowl.
There was much more there than I usually have for lunch so I didn't quite finish it. I had plenty though and was quite pleased with the flavors and textures.
Summary:
Like I said, nothing fancy, nothing exotic, but that's to be expected from a joint that boasts St. Louis style food. It's the midwest, the extreme left edge of the rust belt, a city that served as the gateway to the rugged western frontier. It's not about frilly pastries delicate spices and sliver-thin seafood. It's a meat and potatoes city.
The price wasn't too bad, I paid eight and a half bucks for the sandwich and chips. I've paid more for less. The 2Girls were friendly and efficient and after I left, quite busy. There was a twenty person line standing there as I walked back through the lot. Apparently my positive thinking had paid off for the 2Girls.
I like food trucks, I like the very notion of food trucks. It's a great way to start up in the retail food business. All you need is a couple of solid, portable recipes with limited ingredients and variations, a truck, an attractive paint scheme and a working knowledge of the city. It's a great small business. For a cubicle-bound patron they provide a pleasant relief from the local joints. It's like importing a new restaurant for a day.
Today's trucks are a long step up from the old roach coaches that once hustled bad hotdogs and greasy nachos. This truck is not gourmet, it's not snooty, and there's no 'chef' on board, but it serves up some pretty good food.
Kudos 2Girls!

* Please forgive the lousy pictures, I forgot to take my Nikon with me and had to use my sucky cellular telephone. It takes pictures about about as well as my toaster plays DVD's.

Main Street BBQ

1620 Hwy Z

Pevely, MO

http://www.bbqonmain.com/

Herculaneum Fire Department

I’d spent all day at the Herculaneum  Fire Department taking CERT classes.  You don’t know what that is?  I’ll explain later. At any rate it was an all-day class, and I asked the family to pick place that was nearby or on the way. As it turned out it didn’t really matter, by the time class let out, a little early, Angel was on the road in the other direction from dropping a couple of dogs off. I went on home, she got there about the same time and had to let the remaining dogs out before we could leave. She and Adam had already assumed Main Street BBQ, they didn’t see any reason to change that. So we headed out from home and to within a couple of miles of where I’d already spent the whole day.

The Place:

On Highway Z between I-55 and 61/67. It’s a stand-alone affair that was probably something else before it became what it is now. You walk in and confront a counter, on which you will find a large painted menu. Paper menus area also available. You just pick your choice(s) of meat, add a couple of sides, pay for the order, fill your drinks, then find a table. We did all that.

The Food:

Me: Pulled pork sandwich, red potato salad, baked beans and un-sweet tea.

Angel: 2-meat platter, turkey and brisket, corn cob-ette and coleslaw, she tasted the sweet tea, poured it out and got Diet Coke instead.

Adam: Chicken and Pork platter, baked beans and coleslaw.

Pulled pork, beans, potato salad

We sat and waited, not for all that long. I started telling them about my day in class, they feigned interest.

The food came, served on plates, the sides in small bowls. I flipped my sandwich open, put the dill pickle slices on it, took a bite then fetched some sauce, it was a little dry by itself. Tasty, but dry. Adam picked at his beans, then set them aside. “The beans have stuff in them.” By which he meant diced onions. I tsk’d him and carried on. Angel passed around small pieces of brisket, it was pretty good. She said it was okay, but not nearly as good as the turkey, which she described as "Yum!”

Her corn didn’t fare as well, she said  it was almost tasteless, like it had been soaking in water too long, she ate it all anyhow.

Turkey+Brisket Platter

I soaked my pork in ‘Sweet and Smoky’ sauce, that made a lot of difference. They make their own sauces and they do it well. I found the beans to be a little too sweeter than I usually like them, but not to the point of being not-good. The potato salad, made with red potatoes and skin left on, was awesome. Smooth, creamy and not too much mustard or vinegar.

My sandwich was quite large, the pork, though moist with the added sauce still proved a bit rubbery at times, I was a little disappointed, but even a not-great pulled pork sandwich is better than most things. Adam said he loved his chicken, even more so than Bandana’s, which is a very high compliment. Correction: Adam said his chicken was fine, but he prefers Bandana's. He was slightly less pleased with the pork.

Chicken + Pork Platter

Angel went on and on about her turkey, using words like ‘Great!’

“I love it here.” She cooed. “You can just come in, order some meat and if you feel like it can toss a couple of small sides in with it.” Angel loves meat. At around ten at night she usually snacks on ‘night-meat’ either deli stuff or whatever might be leftover from dinner. No bread, no sides, no toppings or sauces, just cold meat straight from the fridge.  

Summary:

I’d had turkey and scrambled  eggs as an early (6:30 A.M) breakfast before class and the Fire Department treated us to Pizza from a local place in the early afternoon. I only had two slices since it was rather bland (even more so than Domino’s) but that, along with the breakfast was about twice as much as I normally eat on a Saturday. So I dismissed at least most of my criticism, and the lack of motivation to finish my meal, to that. The tab was forty two dollars and change, about the same as Bandana’s, not bad at all for in-house smoked meat. It takes about five minutes to grill a burger, smoking meat takes hours, I expect to pay a little more.

You may note that none of us had French fries this time, which is rare for us, but that’s because Main Street doesn’t serve them anymore. I’d overheard this at the counter but did not hear the explanation. I figured it was because that was the only thing I could recall them ever needing a deep fryer for and it probably just wasn’t worth the mess and maintenance.

It’s still a very good place to grab a smoky meat sandwich despite the little minuses I pointed out. Still highly recommended.

Main Street BBQ

1620 Highway Z

Pevely, Mo.

http://www.bbqonmain.com/

Earlier this year Main Street BBQ in Imperial, Mo. merged with Bobby Tom’s BBQ and moved into its Pevely location.  It’s located just east of the Pevely exit  off interstate 55. A tidy, modern and busy place. I’d heard about it a while back and came across it on the interwebs recently while researching another place. We had our doubts. We are big ‘Bandana’s’ fans and have found few places that compare. On the theory that barbecue, like sex, cheesecake and Glee episodes are even at their worst better than most alternative offerings, we decided to give it a try. 

   We met there, Angel and Adam drove in from home, I from a nearby car dealership where I’d spent the day unloading the Mighty Alero and picking up its reluctant and lackluster replacement.  My mind was still abuzz with interest rates, extended warranties, and family stories from the two very nice sales ladies (one very pregnant with her first child. I LOL'd)  and the lot’s business manager, a very nice, chatty man with several adopted kids and a few rescued dogs. (Yes I gave him one of Angel’s business cards.) Usually I don’t do a lot worth thinking about on Saturday afternoons, but on this busy, anxious day I hadn’t thought much about eating or critiquing, so this review may lack some detail and depth. I’m a single tasker. If my mind’s a-whirring on something it takes a bit of time and effort to shift it into another gear. This isn’t usually a problem really, it just means that I’m generally very, very focused on whatever task may be in front of me. I’ve been known to lose track of time and a few other dimensions as well. People have had entire conversations right in front of me of which I missed completely.  I’ve also missed several of Angel’s hair styles and colorations due to this intense, focused, un-awareness of my surroundings.

Anyway, we met there and stepped in after Angel and Adam gave the new(er) little car a quick glance. It’s the same general shape, color and size as the old one so there really wasn’t much to look at.  We stepped in and found ourselves at the ordering counter. Large boards on the front of the counter listed the offerings, and a pile of glossy, colorful menu sheets were stacked on top of it. I grabbed a couple and we stepped back and pondered.  In pretty short time we stepped up and placed our orders. Angel paid up and we took our plastic tumblers to the tea dispensers, then found ourselves a table in the large seating area. We chatted a bit about the car, the car transaction really, since I rarely do something that big and important without Angel along. She keeps the books for us and is much more in tune with petty little things like budgets, cash on hand, insurance and the name of our bank. It’s a tribute to her really. She does such a good and thorough job with our finances that I simply don’t have to think about them much. I’ve said it before, I won the wife lottery.

The Food:

We sat with our tea, tea and sweet tea.  I was a bit panicked that I didn’t have my trusty little notebook with me.  I ended up making notes on the menu instead, using an ink pen that Angel re-assembled from parts dug out from the distant and dark basement area of her voluminous purse. We didn’t have to wait long, typical of barbecue places almost everything is already cooked before you even get there.

I’d ordered the Main Street Special, a pulled pork sandwich, along with red potato salad and baked beans. Angel’s ½ chicken surprised me, I ‘d assumed (hoped) she'd get the back half of the chicken, that would have been hilarious, instead they’d sliced it lengthwise, so she  ended up with a leg, thigh, wing and breast instead of just its ass-end. For sides she had corn on the cob and coleslaw and they even threw in a couple of half-slices of toast, which had also been cut lengthwise.

Adam’s was called a ‘Bird of Paradise’ sandwich, implying fowl, in his case chicken, though turkey was also available. His was served on a toasted croissant along with bits-o-bacon and cheddar cheese.  It was accompanied by a bag of kettle chips and baked beans. My sandwich was on a hoagie roll and topped with a little slaw and a couple of dill pickle slices. The meat was all sweet and juicy with the house sauce. Angel’s chicken fell off the bone, slow and perfectly cooked. My pork was also tender and smoky, delicious, though the hoagie was a little thicker and heavier than I would have liked.  Adam’s croissant-bun held together nicely and didn’t look near as heavy.

We exchanged slivers of sides and meats and tasted pretty much everything everyone had ordered.

The red potato salad was creamy and piled high. Not too sweet, not too mustard-y, about as good a potato salad as you’ll find anywhere other than by your own gifted hand.  Angel’s coleslaw was light on vinegar and a little sweeter than KFC coleslaw. In her rating system, KFC is the coleslaw gold-standard.  The baked beans were sweet as well, but that’s the way I like them. They were as good as KFC, or ‘Off the Hook’, and much better than most other places. Adam discovered a shard of onion in his and abandoned them, even when I pointed out the many bacon bits. Angel handed him her slaw, the chicken, corn and toast were filling her up.

A young family entered and took the table next to ours. Among them was a young lad about two or three feet tall and however old boys of that height are, maybe three or four. I caught him staring at me so I broke character and acknowledged his existence.  As soon as I did he started rambling on in a slobbery lisp about something completely incomprehensible, but whatever it was , it seemed very exciting and important to him. About all I got out of it were a couple of words which I could not squeeze into a coherent sentence or paragraph. His parents seemed amused at the rambling speech and my dutiful, yet confused attention to it. I decided to repeat back to the tyke, in the form of a question, as much as I thought I understood. “So you ate your horsey?”

He laughed for a mere second, then looked frightened and turned away, I think I made him cry. This is never my intent but it is the most common result of my interactions with children, bank on it, most often someone’s gonna scream or cry.

I only finished half my sandwich since the high stress of a major financial transaction and the separation anxiety that accompanies the abandoning of a well-used vehicle tends to shrink up my belly. I knew they had boxes though. I was the only one that needed one.  Angel’s former chicken half was bare bones, Adam’s croissant-ed sandwich a mere memory.

Summary:

The bill came to only twenty seven bucks and change, this similarity and subsequent comparisons to Bandana’s were natural. We debated it for a while, Adam couldn’t decide which was better, so that should tell you something. Angel commented that Main Street’s meats were moister than Bandana’s, I agreed. The pork at B’s is certainly smoky, tender and tasty, but it is served dry and must be lubed up with a considerable amount of sauce to make it swallow-able after the first few bites.  Main Street’s default sauce is at least as good as any of Bandana’s varieties, the sides were basically the same in both places. So which one is better? I’d have to say neither. They are a bit different, but they are both very, very good.  If you like barbecue and live in or around Jefferson County, stop in and certainly give Main Street a try, you won’t be disappointed.

I didn’t take any poor-quality photos this trip, Main Street’s web site has several good ones though: http://www.bbqonmain.com/photos.html

Kim's Cafe II: Boys night out.

Main Street
DeSoto, Mo.

Angel was in Wisconsin for her yearly pilgrimage to learn more and more about training dogs. She took the energetic DeeDee with her, leaving Adam and I with a mere five dogs to maintain. Adam was in charge of that effort as my work takes enormous chunks out of my availability. She’s gone out of town before, Adam and I usually take this as a reason to go to places that serve breakfast all day. I don’t know why. As we were discussing this I suggested, then insisted that we go back to Kim’s since she offers full time breakfast.

We fed the dogs and put them away for a nap and took off in my mighty 2000 Olds Alero Coupe. This is my commuter car (75 miles per day), my findagrave car, my weekend individual events and chores car. Angel’s only ridden in it a couple of times, Adam maybe a couple more. It has that lived-in ambiance to it, so before we went to the café, I took it to the car wash and vacuumed it out.

We got to the café about 5:00 PM, we were the only customers.

The place:

Kim had friend’ed me on Facebook after someone showed her my Eat-and-Critique blog entry from our previous visit. I sent her a note earlier in the week letting her know we would be stopping in. Though we were the only customers at the time, I couldn’t tell for sure if Kim knew who we were, so I decided to let it stay that way for a while.

We picked a booth out of the bright sun and sat down, Kim followed us and handed us menus and informed us of the two specials, pulled pork, and all-you-can-eat spaghetti.

I could smell the smoked pork, or at least I thought I could, and as I scanned the various breakfast options none of it seemed as appealing as a pulled pork sandwich. Adam shifted too, struggling to decide what to order when he liked pretty much everything. We ordered our drinks Tea and Pepsi and they arrived pretty quickly.

We finally decided. I indeed would have the pork, as a sandwich, which came with baked beans and coleslaw. I added fries to the order since Adam had told me they made crinkly fries, I like crinkly fries. Adam chose chicken nuggets, fries and corn. She took our order and scurried away.

Adam and I sat and looked around, neither of us are very chatty. The music was unusual so I asked him what it was that I was listening to, whether it was hip-hop, or reggae or some different genre. “I don’t know what it is exactly, but I know it’s ‘Ludacris’.”

I recognized the name, which was odd. I don’t listen to music much, well, hardly ever. I don’t claim to keep up with the industry or trends and couldn’t tell you any top ten songs for the last twenty or so years, if there still are top ten songs. I’m really, really out of touch with all forms of music.

Ludicris and I have something in common as it turns out, a bond that reaches across cultural and musical barriers. Ludacris, Christopher Brian Bridges, was born in Champaign, Illinois in September 1977. I transferred to Chanute AFB, very near Champaign (Rantoul) In September 1977. Coincidence? I don’t believe in coincidences. (Actually I do, I just say that because that’s what all the cops in all the books I read say.)

The music was booming but not too much, not like that car that runs up and down our street too frequently, booming its booming booms enough to shake leaves off the trees. Ludacris’ delivery was at least mildly tolerable even though I could not quite discern most of the lyrics other than, and I’m not making this up, “nick nack paddy wack”. Hearing this much I thought I might make out the rest of the song, but it turns out Ludacris was not singing “This Old Man” after all. In fact, this song was not especially kid friendly at all, it was in fact, a little suggestive (and by ‘little’ I mean ‘extremely’) and generally disrespectful.

That song was followed by a heavy metal, hair band ballad that I recognized but really didn’t care for. This was apparently a mix tape, or whatever you call personal compilations these days.

Looking around I noticed a corner table with paperwork and a book, I assumed it was Kim’s workspace. I was immediately saddened to see that the book was one of Nora Roberts’ latest, future-themed pseudo-bodice-rippers, “Strangers in Death”. I was once tricked into reading one of Nora Roberts’ books. The very popular Ms. Roberts also writes thriller/mystery novels using the pseudonym J.D. Robb. Not knowing that at the time, I picked up a book by Robb and suffered reading it. It took place in the near future, just far enough that the day can always be saved by a little deus ex machine.* Sure it contained a crime, a serial killer, but the thin criminal plot played second or third fiddle to the main character’s (female) sobs, moans, inner lusts and desires.

Her knees weakened whenever this man she should really hate and fear passed near her. The musky scent of his sweat and cologne quietly wafted through the suddenly hot, electric air. She really should know better, she DID know better, but the savage, animal lust in her pined for his closeness, his danger, his strength, his manhood. She quivered as the cooling sweat ran down her neck and beneath the delicate lace that barely covered her . . . .

But I digress.

The Food:

The food arrived. The sandwich was thick and heavy. The beans in a separate bowl still bubbled and steamed. The coleslaw, also in a separate bowl, was piled thick and high. The fries were plentiful and not greasy. I scooted them into a smaller pile and squeezed a puddle of “House Recipe Fancy Ketchup” beside them. I dipped a couple of small ones and delighted in the texture and homey taste of crinkly fries and off-brand ketchup. I sampled the beans, perfect. Chunks of bell pepper told me that these were not directly from a can. The coleslaw was creamy, with only a hint of sour to compliment the creamy sweetness, delicious. The pork was smoky, tender, falling apart, moist and drizzled precisely with just a little barbecue sauce. I danced from one offering to another, around the plate and back again. About halfway through the bun broke apart and merged with the moist pork, losing its identity as a sandwich completely, I didn’t care. Adam cleaned his plate, we didn’t talk much between bites. We were though, in mutual agreement, our grunts confirmed as much.

While eating, Kim stopped by a couple of times to refill our drinks and to ask if everything was okay. Adam finished before I did because he’s young and doesn’t know how to savor each bite and gorge at the same time as I do. As Kim took his plate she asked if he’s like pie, cream pie, four or five different kinds to choose from. He looked at me I grunted and shrugged my shoulders. He told her he’d think about it.

I stuffed the last bits into my face, sighed, sat back and just enjoyed. “You want pie?” I asked him. “No not really.” He answered in what might have been our longest conversation of the meal.

Summary:

By the end of our meal a couple of other tables loaded up, one a man merely asking for coffee, Kim offering to make him a fresh pot. The other table an extended family of some sort, local, familiar to the place and to Kim. She stopped by our table and dropped off the ticket placing it upside down near Adam. On the back was a “Thank you!” from Kim, in perfect, pretty cursive writing. The tail of the ‘u’ in ‘you’ joining, without breaking, the tall, looping exclamation point. Nice touch, classy. It made me wish for a moment that I remembered how to write in cursive.

The tea was okay, I had higher hopes though since there was a hand written, bright orange sign exclaiming “Fresh Brewed Tea” behind the counter. A little stronger would have been nice, and Luzianne is always preferable to the other common brands. But hardly anyone gets this right.

Kim herself was pleasant, friendly, efficient and professional despite the fact that she reads romance novels, or as I call the genre, “more unlikely and unbelievable than science fiction” and listens to music that should be more to the tastes of her kids than herself. I did worry about her a bit though, she was wearing a thick ankle pad/brace on one leg. I didn’t notice a limp, but hers is a job that keeps you on your feet a lot… but it could also have been an injury sustained from kicking someone’s ass in a karate fight…. Whatever it is Kim, I hope it gets better.

The bill came to a pleasant twenty-one dollars and change. As we paid, Kim asked if we wanted to tack on a tip. I answered “Run it up to thirty even.” She smiled, thanked me and otherwise did not protest the 40% gratuity.

We will be going back, Kim’s is a fine, down home place with great food and good people. It’s now officially one of my favorite café’s. I’ll rate it four and a half out of five greasy spoons.

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* deus ex machine: Latin for "god out of the machine”. Simply, it’s a plot device where something the reader didn’t know about inexplicably pops up and comes to the sudden aid of the protagonist. It’s derived from old Greek theater where the plot twists and turns and then just as it all seems hopeless and doomed, another actor, in the visage of a previously unmentioned god is lowered onto the stage and poof! Problem resolved. It’s very easy and very prevalent in bad science fiction. A device, machine, ability or creature that we were not clued in on just appears or becomes available out of nowhere, just at the right time. A form of this device was used in the J.D. Robb book I read. Hundreds of pages of whining, emoting, lusting and stumbling around looking for clues, EVERYONE is eliminated as a suspect since the murders take place in a highly secure holographic game room. But alas! At the very end it turns out that the game’s projector has been ‘tweaked’ to the point that it can actually project a sword that will lob off a guy’s head in the real world. I saw it coming from about page twenty. Very disappointing. It’s one of the reasons I don’t care for the overwhelming majority of science fiction.