Patrick’s Restaurant and Sports Bar

(Formerly 'Pujols 5' and 'St. Louis Sports Hall of Fame Bar and Grill')

342 Westport Plaza

Maryland Heights
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Back in February, when Cardinals legend Albert Pujols announced he was picking up stakes and heading to California, this restaurant changed its name to ‘St. Louis Sports Hall of Fame Bar and Grill.’ A few weeks ago, the place changed its name again to 'Patrick’s', as it was known for many years prior to being called Pujols  5.

According to ‘The Sporting News’: “Pujols did not have an ownership stake in the restaurant but was paid for making appearances and allowing his name to be used.”

That’s fine, I was never a big fan of sports, any sports, except for women’s beach volleyball for some completely inexplicable reason.

But that’s beside the point.

This was a work thing. Traditionally when our team gets a new member, our lovely and wise boss, Larry (not his real name), pulls a few people from the team to take the n00b to lunch.

Naga joined us on Monday. Larry rounded up a small group, including yours truly, and we headed out.

The Team:

All names you may remember. Doug, of course, Larry, the boss,  and Swami, whose adorable young wife is from an actual city in India, not a ‘village’ as I’ve previously reported, (because I’m just a stupid, geographically illiterate American that presumes to know more about foreign places and cultures than he really does.)  Naga, the new guy (also from some village in India), and Keith, who you will recall from that same Thai Kitchen review where I insulted Swami’s wife. I meant no ill by calling her city a village, but if they want to call it a city, fine we'll call it a city, whatever. I'm no idiot though, I studied up on India a while back, it's situated between Ohio and Illinois, and is primarily rural, so forgive me for just assuming that most people from there lived in villages.

 We took two cars, Larry drove his shiny, polished and well-deserved Mercedes and took Swami, Naga and Keith. I jumped into the passenger side of Doug’s little tiny '88 Toyota, but only after he assured me that the exhaust was no longer leaking into the passenger compartment. Doug’s little car is easy to spot, it’s about the oldest one in the parking lot, formerly bright red, and it sports a slightly scary bumper sticker that reads: “Tried to fight stupid, ran out of ammo.”  He had the sticker custom-made. 

His Toyota reminded me a lot of the 1984 Mazda RX-7 I used to have when I lived in Maryland. It smelled of burnt oil, sat about an inch off the ground, ran a little dirty, and would neither shift nor shut down without complaint. The Mazda, much like Doug's car, wasn't very dependable, but it sure was uncomfortable.

The Place:

As I said, this place has been around for quite a while, mostly as Patrick’s but recently notable as Pujols 5. Inside the large place were racks and wall-loads of sports memorabilia, though I saw nothing from the world of women’s beach volleyball so it didn’t really hold my attention. Jerseys, helmets, bats and balls. . . yawn.

The interior was very big, but there were not a lot of people on this day. The waitress said it was because it was Monday, I just assumed it was because they didn't have any actual beach volleyball memorabilia.

We were escorted to a large table already set up for six. I sat myself in the corner, once again so I could scan the entire operation.

The place was bar-dark, the walls were lined with sports-related posters, paintings and paraphernalia. TV’s were bolted to the walls, and as this was during the Olympics, there were several sports being aired. I recall no music in the background, and the TV’s were muted, so other than the occasional cackling coming from our table it was pretty quiet. We sat in padded metal chairs that were not as uncomfortable as they looked. Each chair’s back had a stencil-style ‘5’ cut into the back, reminiscent of the Pujols days.

The Food:

There were several items on the menu that looked quite good. I decided to keep it simple. The only BLT they had also contained a slab of chicken, I knew better than to fall for that since chicken sandwiches are either a sinister part of the vast right wing conspiracy, or the last bastion of American values standing between us and the inevitable showdown at Armageddon. I didn't really want to pick a side in that silly fight and I was in no mood to make a strong political statement while sitting next to my boss. (sarcastic Chick-Fil-A reference.)

Somewhere along the line I decided a bacon-cheeseburger would be fine, since I couldn’t recall burgers being directly tied to any particular extremist cause. Our drinks were delivered and after three more returns by the waitress, we were finally all ready to order.

Larry: Buffalo Chicken Salad

Naga: Blackened Swordfish

Swami: Buffalo Chicken Wrap

Doug: Bleu Burger

Keith: Mahi Mahi Sandwich

She also delivered a bowl of hot cheesy biscuits, which were passed around.

We sat and interrogated Naga, two kids, 11 and 3. Lives in St. Charles, been a road warrior for several years, glad to find a good job closer to home. His wife works in a bank. His kids are very happy to have him home more often, not sure if his wife is. He seemed to be a nice guy, talkative, funny, smart.

The guys started talking sports, so I drifted and made notes. Someone explained to Naga what I was doing and Swami started trying to tell me what I could and could not write about. For example, he told me specifically not to write about him eating his biscuit with a fork. I don’t know why, I thought it was simply adorable.

Keith sat across from me, carefully guarding his words. He’s a nice guy, perhaps not as handsome, interesting or witty as his brother Kevin, (whom I’ve never actually met, just heard about) but for a co-worker Keith is not completely intolerable.

The biscuit was good at first, the butter was not frozen, so it melted nicely. Somewhere along the line though the biscuit took on a doughy texture. Not the worst I’ve had by far, but not the best either.

Bacon Burger

The food finally arrived, all of it looked pretty. This place pays attention to plating, feeding the eyes first. Larry asked me to make sure to take a picture of his salad, it was indeed quite photogenic, the bright orange spice and the caramelized pecans. I also snapped a photo of my plate, then Naga asked if I’d like to take a picture of his. He didn't seem to be too concerned about the potential slanderous things I might say about him later. Keith remarked that Naga’s blackened fish didn't seem all that blackened. Naga would later concur with that assessment.

Buffalo Chicken Salad

Keith commented on his fries, that he really liked them. Swami said they were okay, but not as good as those at Penn Station. I had to look that up later. I recalled going to a Penn Station once , but didn’t recall the fries.

“The fries were made on site, fresh to order from real potatoes, skin intact. Dirty fries, awesome. They were well cooked, brown and crispy, the way a frozen fry just can’t be.” is what I’d actually said about them, confirming that Swami is more than just one of the world’s most handsome and capable DBA’s, he’s also a discerning diner.

Blackened Swordfish

I found Patrick’s fries to be thin, crispy and golden brown, but a little on the greasy side, though not as bad as some of the limp, tasteless ones I’ve found many other places.

My burger looked nice, the bun was not the cheap, pale grocery-store kind, there was a heft to the buns, good for containing a sloppy burger, but also a little rubbery and thick. The meat itself was virtually tasteless. The bacon was okay but nothing special. I only ate about half of the burger since it really wasn’t that great, and I decided it was better to leave it than to stuff myself into a coma with sub-excellent food. Across the plaza sits the Train Wreck, whose Cheddar burger is about the best burger I’ve ever had. I’d gladly go into a caloric coma for one of those, but not this one.
Larry and Swami, since they had basically the same thing, had similar comments about the buffalo chicken offerings, the slightly sweet pecans offset the spiciness of the chicken quite well. Doug mentioned  that his Bleu Burger had a bit too much barbecue sauce, but the bleu cheese was not overpowering. I don't know how fast he ate it, I wasn't watching that closely. And finally, Keith said his Mahi Mahi was not too fishy, I couldn't tell if that was a complaint or a compliment.
Summary:
 What' missing here is someone saying how great their meal was. No real complaints per se, just no home runs either. For the price, and this place is pricier than others in the area, you kind of expect something to be outstanding, or at least stand out.
The atmosphere of the place is well suited for sports fans and large groups, it would probably be a good place to hang out with a bunch of friends and watch a sporting even together, just not women's beach volleyball. That is a sport that is best watched in the privacy of your own home, preferably while your wife and kids are out shopping, training dogs, or whatever else you can find them to do. So for football, or soccer, or NASCAR, if driving around in circles is actually a sport, this would be a fine place, if the price isn't too high for you. It might even be okay for watching women's MMA, (Mixed Martial Arts) a sport my boss kept going on and on about, to an almost creepy degree. He yammered (handsomely and intelligently) on and on about an upcoming bout between 'Rowdy' Ronda Rousey and Sarah Kaufman. I tried really hard to fake interest, he is my boss, but I fear I failed to get the least bit charged up about it.
Anyway, there's nothing really wrong with Patrick's. There just wasn't a lot to get excited about. Between the two, Patrick's and it's very near neighbor, Train Wreck, I'll take the train next time.

Casa Gallardo

1092 Old Des Peres Road
St. Louis
www.casagallardo.com/

  For over a year a couple of buddies from work and I would cross the road and have lunch at the Westport Plaza location of Casa Gallardo each Friday. We did it so often that the staff eventually recognized us and just let us head back to our usual seats, they’d bring us our chips, salsas and tea without even asking. The same waitress would stop by and confirm our orders, which seldom varied.

I’d always get a combination plate, one chicken enchilada and one chicken taquito, refried beans, rice and a corn cake. Of course this was only after the three of us slaughtered a couple of baskets of chips and salsa. They offered three kinds of salsa, normal, hotter and ‘oh my god!’ Each of us had our favorite, mine being the wimpier stuff. I stopped doing this a few months back as one of the three amigos left for another job.

It was always quite good, not that I really measured it against anything else. During the week I don’t eat anything before lunch so I’m not very picky when I do eat something.

During our visit to Ponderosa last week I noticed a Casa Gallardo across the street. So this past weekend I decided to take the family there and impress them.

What a difference a few miles can make.

The Place:

Across from / near the South County Mall, a free standing building, fairly large. Inside the décor worked really, really hard to make it appear like a courtyard in old Mexico, adobe/mission style facade, paved terra cotta floor, colorful red, white and green bunting, etc. There were three levels of seating and the place was busy and loud.

The menu didn’t look familiar, though it had been over a year since I needed a menu at the Westport location, I couldn’t say for sure if they were the same.

The young redhead asked us about drinks, Angel went for sweet tea, Adam a Pepsi, I decided, since I wouldn’t be driving, to go for beer again. She spat out the names of several Anheuser Busch products, I passed. I asked about Sam Adams, nope. She then went through a list of ‘Mexican’ beers. I stopped her at Dos Equis. All I knew about the brand was that the 'most interesting man in the world' enjoys it, at least according to the commercials.

The chips, one bowl of red salsa and the drinks arrived. The salsa was a little hotter than what I expected but not too bad. Angel said yes to the offer of chile con queso cheese dip, it was brought out quickly, about the time that we’d decided on meals.

The Food:

I didn’t see any taquitos listed anywhere, so I went for the Tres Enchiladas. (Three enchiladas) One beef, one chicken and one shrimp. I thought it was served with beans and rice, I was wrong. It was served with rice but instead of creamy beans, they plopped a pile of sautéed veggies, onions, carrot shreds and broccoli. Yeah, broccoli. (blech)

Adam ordered the Ultimate Combo #2, a ground beef enchilada, chicken burrito and a taco, without tomato, Angel ordered the Trio Favoritos, a Steak taco, enchilada and a mini-chim.

We crunched on chips and salsa but after a taste or two abandoned the cheese dip. Though it had floaters, a few pepper chunks, it tasted like heated Cheez-Whiz. Too American-Cheesy, no punch.

The plates arrived after a drink refill or two. I spent the time being thoroughly annoyed by the constantly talking and moving family across from us. My beer was served in the bottle with a lime stuck in it. I squeezed a little into the beer and then Angel grabbed it away and took a sip. She seemed unimpressed, as was I when I did the same. No body, no texture, just another typical light beer. Nor did I feel more interesting for having tried it.

My enchiladas looked limp and puny. There was barely any sauce on any of them. When I took knife to them they resisted in a rubbery way. The tortilla wrapping was as thin as paper and had the slimy appearance and texture of overcooked calamari. Inside the first one there was only four shrimp, and nothing else. If there was sauce on it, it had no distinct flavor. The shrimps themselves were dry, overcooked, though fairly spicy. The second one, shredded beef was coated with a red sauce that turned out to be more barbecue sauce than enchilada. The beef was tough and not shredded quite enough. The last hope was the chicken, strike three. The chicken was blackened and cubed, the sauce was once again, tasteless and nearly non-existent. I ended up plucking the meat out of the slimy wraps, only the shrimp got eaten completely. The rice was too dry, but not nasty. The veggies were under-cooked and there was broccoli on my plate.

Adam and Angel’s experience wasn’t much better.

Her taco was spicy and quite good, but the enchilada was too salty. Her beans were not very creamy, she too said the rice was dry. Inside the chimi, the vegetables were undercooked and tough.

Adam liked the rice, but said the chicken was skimpy. His tortillas as well were without taste or texture.

After the meal he said that he’d always heard that the nicer a Mexican restaurant looked the worse the food. This of course was a tip of the hat to our favorite Mexican place, Los Portales in Hillsboro, which by nearly every description is a run down, worn out, non-pretentious dive, but man-o’-man the food is good.

We agreed that at best this location was a family restaurant pretending to be Mexican.

Being as none of us actually finished our meals, we decided to order dessert, the choices were fried ice cream or flan.

Flan is a custard, this one covered in a brown caramel (burnt sugar) and a dab of whipped cream. They arrived quickly, large portions, too large. The texture was spot-on, but the taste was very rich and overwhelmingly eggy. Washing it down with beer was just weird. Angel said that it might have been better with coffee. None of us finished our desserts either. The redhead offered take away boxes, we all declined.

Summary:

Very, very disappointed. There was nothing actually very good among the meals. As a whole it was unanimously thumbs down. I noticed that other folks seemed to not be making a fuss about the food, maybe this was the best they’d had. I feel sorry for them if that was true. It doesn’t take a lot to make a good Mexican meal, it’s simple, only a few ingredients and the cooking process is not difficult. Los Portales, admittedly run by a Mexican family, has this stuff nailed, for a lot less money.

The tab came to sixty plus dollars, partially excused by the extras, the flans and the cheese dip, but even with that the food really wasn’t worth the price.

I’ll be going back to the Westport location sometime soon I’m sure. I’m curious if this bad experience is simply location-based or if the chain has really stepped back that much.