Penn Station

68 Fenton Plaza
Fenton, MO 63026
On the web.

Date night, dinner and a movie. Angel was scheduled for foot surgery the following Tuesday, some anxiety was starting to build. I decided to help her release some tension by doing something I almost never do, with or without her. Go to a movie theater.
I will only go to movie theaters in extreme circumstances, like a new 'Star Trek' movie. I've probably only been to a theater two - four times in the last ten years.
Why?
What part of 'introvert' do you not understand? They are crowded, noisy, I have no control over the movie itself, and the place is crawling with strangers. I'd rather go to a bar with friends than go to a movie.  (I also rarely ever go to bars with friends).
So this was special. The movie, one that I knew Angel wanted to see, was "The Secret Life of Pets" I should not have to explain to you why that one. A cartoon, we ended up about the only people there without a gaggle of sticky, smelly, shrieking children in tow. Somehow, I survived.
So based on the theater location we explored nearby options. We've been eating rather light in this heat wave, so nothing heavy. Angel heard that Penn Station was serving something special this month.
The Place:

Across from Gravois Bluffs in a smaller shopping center. Fenton has just about every discount, big box and department store in a tight configuration around Highways 141 and 30. Convenient for shopping, lousy for driving through during the holidays.
We'd been here before, quite a while back. We'd liked it just fine, so why not give her another go?
Penn Station was started in the 80's and now boasts 300 locations, mostly in the South and Midwest, because nowhere else really matters.
Inside looks like an upgraded Subway. Dimmer lighting, tables and chairs, nicer decor. There is a sandwich line, similar to Subway, with a couple of notable differences. PS also has a deep fryer and a mountain of fresh potatoes.
We stepped up to the counter already knowing what we wanted.
The Food:
BLT, small (freshly hand-cut) fries and small freshly squeezed lemonade.
Yeah, we ordered the same thing. Date night you know.
I  love a good BLT. It's hard to find a bad BLT. Some places try to cram an entire pork belly's worth
of bacon on a super thick roll.
Wrong!
Bacon has a very pronounced taste. More doesn't necessarily equal better.  And of course you've probably seen some of my reviews where I claim that the bread is too big. It's a 'watching my carb intake' thing.
We found a dark, quiet table and stared lovingly into our respective electronic devices.
The order only took a few minutes, about the time require to slice and cook a small portion of fries.
I was really concerned about the roll, I didn't know what to expect. I was pleased to see that it was only slightly larger than a standard hot dog bun.
The bacon, three thick slices, lay buried under fresh, crisp lettuce and three juicy tomato slices. The fries were 'dirty', peel left on. I love them that way.
And everything was awesome. I usually don't have sweet drinks with a meal (or any other time, really) but PS's lemonade is spectacular.
The thick bacon was very smoky with a slight hint of maple. Better bacon I do not recall.
For the first time in many meals out, I finished the entire meal. It was not too filling or heavy, just simple, satisfying and delicious.
Summary:
'Nuff said. I really, really like Penn Station. Not just for the dirty fries and the lemonade, but also for the extra good sandwiches they make. I've had a few different ones, they are all top quality.
The price was twenty and change for the two of us, making the Station quite affordable as well.
Well worth a try!

Cafe Arnold

3946 Jeffco Blvd
Arnold, Mo.
On Facebook

There was an article in the county weekly paper that said that Cafe Arnold was reopening this week with new ownership. We'd not been there under the previous ownership, so we thought we'd give the new owners a fresh perspective. I know, I've told you countless times that I don't like going to Arnold, too busy, wind-y roads, traffic lights, lots and lots of traffic. I looked this address up though and found out it was on the southern edge of Arnold, out of the way of all that mess.

The Place:

In a shopping center that also holds a Chinese restaurant, a nutrition store, and across the parking lot, a McDonalds. Sort of hard to see from the road, the sign is large, but it is sort of hidden amongst several others.
We went in and were immediately greeted by two or three staff members at the reception counter. They asked whether we wanted bar side or dining side. Dining. They led us to a booth in the back.
The place was dimly lit, dark carpets, dark wainscoting and subdued wall colors. This was not slapped together cheaply, it looked substantial and like it had been around for a while. Not grimy, at all, just lived in.
In the dining area there were seven flat screen TV's all muted and showing basketball. Some sort of tournament of some kind, I think I saw a NCAAP logo or something like that. No one was watching it though, not  even in the bar area. A box was playing music, 90's stuff, Angel said that back in the day it would have been called 'Alternative'. As she was saying this I was trying to wrap my head around the notion of the 90's being 'back in the day'.  It was loud enough to hear the lyrics, but not enough to drown out conversation. Plus, I kind of liked most of it. Beck, Cake, etc.
Amanda, a young, friendly and energetic pony-tailed girl (lady) introduced herself, handed out menus and asked about drinks. Tea, Diet Coke (no ice) and root beer. "We serve root beer in a bottle, is that okay?" She asked Adam. Of course it was okay.
Amanda listed off a couple of specials, neither of which appealed to me, I'd done some research ahead of time and knew pretty much what I wanted.
Angel asked for the toasted ravioli as an appetizer. We're sort of comparing them with other places apparently, since everyone offers them.
The Food:
The menu was several pages, but not too complicated. It was mostly (more later), well arranged. I glanced over it knowing that the on-line menu I had seen, I think from the previous ownership, would be different than the new one in front of me.
On the online menu I had seen a 'slider' plate. Four mini sandwiches, barbecue pork, ground sirloin, chicken, etc. I looked on the 'Sandwiches' page on my menu, couldn't find them. Well, I knew there would be changes. Hey, a BLT!
Sounded pretty good. I love BLT's. Unfortunately it is very hard to review a restaurant based on that. Bacon, lettuce tomato, mayo, bread. The problem is that the restaurant adds no flavors to this, nor is much technique involved. Some places use thick bacon, some thin, a lot of bacon, or just a little, but it is really hard to screw up a BLT.(though it has been done)
Angel leaned over to me and asked if I was going to get the sliders as I had said I would. "I didn't see them." I told her. She shoved her menu in front of me, the 'sides' page I believe it was. There they were. Hmm, odd. Whatever, sounds good. Three kinds, mix or match.
Amanda brought our drinks, the tea looked dark and clear, always a good sign. It wasn't strong on flavor, but definitely better than most places serve up We'll call it a +3 or +4.
We'd all  made up our minds, Angel surprised me.
"Fish Tacos." She said, adding some some sick side dish of cauliflower and broccoli (blech!).
I couldn't recall Angel ever ordering fish tacos, ever. I knew I hadn't, this seems to be a rather recent offering, at least to the places we frequent. I've heard lots of people talk about them for quite a while, it just was never something I craved. Loyal fans will recall that I am pretty picky about fish, just see last week's O'Charley's review. I have several specific preferences for fish and 'taco' has just never appealed to me. No, I have never tried one. If you think this is finally, absolute proof that I am closed-minded, you haven't been reading this journal very long. I know I am, I've never tried to hide that fact. So yes indeed, like every child ever created, I can dislike something just fine without ever having tried it.
Adam ordered the sliders as well, one of each, pork, beef, chicken. I asked for two pork, one beef, we both asked for fries with that.

Amanda had also brought the ravioli along with three saucers and a big pile of paper napkins.  The marinara looked thick and chunky, almost salsa-like. I dipped one, turned it ninety degrees and dipped it again, a method I invented to avoid the need for double-dipping a two bite treat. The sauce was indeed flavorful. The pasta was thick-filled, the filling was pretty good, meaty and cheesy. The pasta itself was a little doughy, but overall I liked it. Angel and Adam disagreed about it, Angel liking it, Adam, less so.   I'll call it a draw. Not the best in every way, but better than some, not as good as others. Mostly, the sauce was the best component.
Amanda took off, we all pulled out our electronic devices. This is something we do, because we live in the 21st century. We finished off the ravioli rather quickly, Amanda stopped by and interrupted our e-stares. "Can I take that away for you?" she asked, pointing to the empty dish.
"Can't you see we're busy?" I scolded. Fortunately she laughed, as Angel thrust her elbow into my side.
The place was starting to fill up, I mean, really fill up. I looked up and saw that all the tables were occupied. I overheard a waitress explaining to some other diners some of the 'different' menu choices, meaning these were people that were regulars during the previous ownership.
Angel looked up as well. "Oh, my. I guess 'dining side' also means senior citizen side." I looked around. Sure enough of the twenty or more tables, we were nearly the youngest group there.
"I think that has more to do with the time of day than anything else." I told her. We do eat out early, starting around five P.M. further perpetuating stereotype that older people eat dinner earlier than youngsters. We do it, not because we're old, it's because of the rigid dog schedule. The dogs dine at 4:30, and while they are sleeping off their meal, we sneak out.

Soon enough the plates arrived. My eyes popped open when I saw Angel's. There were four, count 'em four big thick tacos, served on a metal taco rack. (yes, there apparently is such a thing)
In comparison our sliders and fries looked quite small. Not too small, for my appetite, just about right. In fact I had been pleased that there were only three, not four sliders. The portion of fries was also, pleasantly smaller than expected.
I opened up my sliders. I was a little disappointed. There was not enough pork to cover the small, toasted buns. The same with the beef. It was thick, like made from a ball of beef then flattened a little, but it too was

smaller than the small bun. You can see this in the picture.
However, the taste of both kinds of slider was very, very good. the toasted buns were excellent as well. I just wish they'd filled the buns a little more.
Angel asked Adam about his fries.
"Look!" he said, holding one up horizontally. This was in reference to last week's O'Charley's meal, where the fries were limp. These were able to support their own weight, crisp, as fries should be. Adam really, really didn't like O'Charley's. "Boring and manufactured" He had exclaimed at the time. This reference came up again a couple of times during this meal. "It tastes like they actually made it here." He said of his sliders, instead of the 'manufactured' O'Charley's food.
Angel tore off a juicy chunk of one of her tacos and handed it to me. I tried it.
It was awesome.
Yeah, I mean it, Awesome!  The tortilla was cloud-soft, the fish, and there was plenty of it, was flaky, tender, and delicious. It was perfectly cooked. The sauce and veggies were delightful as well.
Angel pointed out that the fish wasn't breaded and deep fried. "I've seen some of these that looked like fried frozen fish sticks broken up." I had to admit that I had always assumed that's what it was supposed to be. But this, this was something I would actually order. This was something I could look forward to. So yes, Cafe Arnold has changed my life!
However, as I had secretly predicted, Angel could not finish even the third taco, much less the fourth. So she asked Amanda for a box.
Summary:

Warning: I'm going to go a little long here.
  If you are in a hurry, suffice it to say, for the most part, we loved it. Definitely an A+ for a first week opening.
The bill came in at a very respectable forty six dollars and change. Almost exactly what we paid for a very sub-par meal at O'Charley's the week before.
Since Cafe Arnold is a place we'd never been to, and since it is under new ownership, I'm going to treat Cafe Arnold like a brand new place. I do not know about the history, whatever it was or was not before, to me, is moot.
Loyal fans to this site, yes there are a couple, will know that I tend to give new places a little latitude. I understand that there's a new menu, new staff, new policies and procedures. It also means that we'll visit again in a few weeks/months to see how many of those start-up 'infractions' have been worked through.
Firstly though, the tastes were great. The pork and beef sliders and the fish tacos were simply quite tasty. The service, Amanda especially, was excellent. Well, the service was great throughout the meal.... the end of it, not so much. The wait for the bill and the wait for the receipt were way too long. But like I said, I understand new staff, policies and procedures. The place was very well staffed. I saw at least a dozen staff members just from my vantage point. None were standing around or idle. They all seemed to know what they were doing.
Coverage in the dining area seemed a bit light. Part of the delay at the end was because Amanda was covering a couple of, at least, larger groups. I watched as she patiently explained menu items, etc. to various diners. She was doing her job and doing it quite well. Perhaps spread a little thin though.
Our perspective of her was excellent. She knew the menu, answered our questions, cleared our table, refilled the drinks, all without a problem. I suggest she be given an enormous raise, she was working very, very hard and was not getting noticeably flustered.
The food, as I said, was quite tasty indeed. There were a couple of issues though that could be fairly easily corrected, in my opinion.
1. Fill up the sliders. The meat is not that expensive, the buns are small. The slider plate cost as much as the enormous fish taco plate. There was plenty of meat in those.
2. The menu was a little confusing about the sliders:
"Fresh mini toasted hamburger buns with your choice of cheese, lettuce . . . pickle and French Fries."
I recommend re-writing that part. It sounded to me like the fries were considered a topping instead of a side.
Maybe the sliders are considered a side or an appetizer, I suppose that's possible, but maybe they should be also offered as a 'sandwich' option. That's where I was looking for them, maybe, that's just me. They tasted great though.
3. Enormous taco plate. I'm curious, maybe it's just us, but how many tacos get 'boxed'? That sure was a lot of food. They were very, very good. Angel reheated the fourth one on Sunday afternoon, she said it was still really good.
4. You might likely disagree, but here's another thing I'd really, really like to see. From my seat I could see six of the seven TV's. The only one I couldn't see clearly was the one directly over my head. Could you please, please tune one or two of them to something other than sports?
I understand that sports is/are quite popular. But nobody in the senior citizen's, er, I mean, dining side of the restaurant even looked up at the games very often. I heard no one talking about them. Maybe things were different amongst the younger, hipper, bar side of the house. I understand there are eight TV's in there, but on our side, no one was particularly interested in the games. We probably would be if the Cards were in the pennant race, sure, but Texas vs. Michigan basketball (or whoever it was)? Not so much. How about HGTV, or the Weather Channel, or whatever that channel is that runs those 'How It's Made' marathons on weekends. Have you  ever watched that? The other day I got trapped in my recliner watching them assemble diesel locomotives, followed by a detailed accounting of  producing bronze cabinet door handles. It's simply mesmerizing.
Anyway, I'll  understand if you don't, but I sure would like it if somebody offered alternative options like that.
5. I mentioned this earlier. The meal service was fine, excellent in fact, but the staff seemed to be deployed a little lopsided. I'm pretty sure this will clear up as things become more familiar, but excessive waiting for the bill/receipt can be frustrating.
We really, really liked the food. "Better than expected" is what Angel said, then added "I'm not sure exactly what I was expecting, but it was better than that."
Well, I warned you that this would run long. I'm trying to be constructive though, not harsh and pointlessly critical. If we didn't like the place, we wouldn't bother with so much detail.
Good job, new owners, good job!

Cerulean Springs Market and Restaurant

21 Main Street

Cerulean Ky.

Cerulean Springs is the old name for this small, very small village in west Kentucky. It is the second largest town in Trigg County, which is still quite small.

Cerulean, by definition a soft shade of blue, had a mineral spring once, back at the earliest years of the twentieth century. Above the smelly, heavy pool of mineral rich ground water a hotel of regional notoriety was constructed. During the decade or so long heyday, which roughly coincided with the bigger, better known spas in Battle Creek Michigan, among others, people flocked to such healing springs for relief from every ailment imaginable.

Mom and Dad's house.

Though such pools and streams were not uncommon geologically, Cerulean Springs boasted an asset that even the county seat of Cadiz itself could not. Cerulean was on a major rail line.

This put it in reach, long before automobiles, buses and airlines, for thousands of people per year. They could spend relaxing and refreshing days alongside the pool, beneath large shady trees, in a quiet, remote part of a quiet and remote state.

My parents bought a house in Cerulean in the seventies. I lived there with them for my last two years of high school. The old Victorian giant was originally built by the town's doctor, by all measure the finest house in town. It was built just a few hundred yards away from the hotel, in the same era.

Since the time of the fires that burned down the various iterations of the resort hotel, Cerulean has long settled into a shadow of it's vaunted past. In my lifetime the town was mainly known for burning down, several old buildings at a time. I recall being at a basketball game in Cadiz once and hearing an announcement over the PA system. "Attention everyone, can I have your attention please. Cerulean is on fire. . ."

The railroad is gone now as well; the tracks were pulled up sometime in the 80's.

No major or even minor road goes through town, Cerulean is a spur of a place, no need to go through it at all unless it is your actual destination. There are several better ways to get to and from anywhere else.

There is a post office and a store, though the store is only erratically open and only ever carried very little of anything a person actually might need. It doesn't even sell gas. In fact, there are no gas stations for probably ten miles in any direction.

There's a couple of churches, attended mostly by an aging membership of long-time locals.

Down the road about a mile or two an Amish community has taken over and rejuvenated several family farms.

On a Saturday night, you can, as I did this past weekend, sit on the front porch for an hour or two and count on one hand the cars going by. By eight o'clock or so the whole community is settled in for the night. Since there is no nearby city, there are plenty of stars to see, and the only noises are the occasional barking and baying of dogs and the squawking of wildlife in the distance.

Most of the population of the area are one of two demographics, middle to lower middle income families and then the less financially successful families whose houses tend to be in one state of decline or another.This is not a wealthy area. There are many retirees, mostly from farm and farm-related endeavors.

Serious crime is all but non-existent, though throughout its history it has not completely escaped trouble.

Mostly the population is older, more or less at peace with the world, just wanting to live  quietly and distantly.
Adam and I were in Cerulean to celebrate my father's eighty sixth birthday. My sister was also there and from time to time my younger, but bigger brother, Jeff would drop in. He lives in Cerulean, about a block away from the folks. 

The Place:

A while back, a year or so, a new restaurant opened just three houses down from my parents' house.

Hardly a fancy place, it is a simple, rectangular metal building, which makes it stand out against the nearly ancient homes around it.

Adam and I walked the distance while my spoiled and pretentious sister Kathy drove dad and mom. Dad's not able to get around much anymore, though he has good intentions to do better.

We arrived well before they did, dad doesn't move very quickly.

We went in together and found a couple of tables abutted in a configuration that fit us all,

Cerulean Springs Market and Restaurant

The building's interior was dimly lit and completely open. The poured concrete floor was textured and unpainted; the walls were rough pine panels, not even stained or painted. Every thing else was shiny, corrugated steel on fresh, unfinished yellow pine, the ceiling, the counter fronts and the partition between the 'market' and the dining area.

The market consisted of little more than a couple of glass fronted coolers full of pop, and a few shelves along one wall with candy, cigarettes and prepackaged pastries.

Though the county finally went wet a couple of years back, the availability of beer, wine and whiskey has not arrived in Cerulean yet. As with gasoline, if you want booze you have to drive a dozen miles to get your fix.

There were a few people there leisurely sipping coffee and enjoying some pie. The openness and the raw material construction created echoes for every sound. One doesn't have to shout in this place, like the small town itself everyone around is aware of you.

The Food:

We were presented menus and asked about drinks. Mom, dad and Kathy asked for water, Adam for sweet tea, and myself, unsweetened tea. Mom helped dad figure out what to order, it was steak night and the waitress had rattled off a litany of available steaks, and ended the spiel with what also fits in the steak family in this hog-rich area, pork chops.

Mom, Kathy and dad finally settled for the chops, a plate that came with Texas toast, a baked potato, and a salad.

Kathy refused all dressing choices, as did mom. For dad she asked for some dressing on the side. I assumed mom declined dressing because of some dietary requirement, she had serious surgery recently, I wasn’t sure about Kathy’s decision though.

I decided to go a little lighter, a BLT and the onion rings which Kathy told me were quite good. Adam picked the chicken strip plate with fries.

Pretty soon the three salads were delivered in bowls. Nothing fancy, iceberg lettuce, cucumber slices and a wedge of tomato. The waitress said that since the bowls were a bit crowded that they could bring out plates for anyone that wanted one. Mom and dad accepted the offer. I asked if I could have my BLT in a bowl instead of a plate to test the limits of their willingness to accommodate. Unfortunately the waitress had already left the table.

Kathy pulled the lemon wedge off the edge of her large tumbler of water and squeezed it over her salad.

"That's it?" Adam asked her. "No dressing, just a squeeze of lemon?"

She looked at us like we were annoying inferiors that had just entered the room.

"I don't like dressing, any dressing, the very sight and smell of it sickens me."

This was among the first of many peculiar culinary declarations, delivered with the surety and confidence of superiority that could only be described as pontificating.

"I don't put sour cream on my baked potato or anything else!" She later decreed, as if sour cream was offal or innards, fit only for meager peasants.

Kathy is considered by many people as a sweet, pleasant person. I know better. I lived under her tyrannical reign when I was a small child. She can be cold, cruel and vicious. She has a very high sense of self importance and issues orders and edicts to those around her as though they were mere livestock who should consider themselves fortunate that she has allowed them to escape the cruel industrial slaughter for one more day.

I was polite though, no need to make a scene in front of the parents, they’d just take her side anyhow, that’s partially how she got that way in the first place.

I insisted timidly that she at least pass the pepper shaker over her salad so it wouldn't look so much like raw lawn rakings.

She plucked the cucumbers out and passed them around to mom and Adam.

"I like the smell of cucumbers, but not the taste." She said, as if that were a perfectly normal and natural position.

The plates arrived at roughly the same time. Their pork chops looked quite good. Juicy, char marks, still sizzling. The baked potatoes were foil wrapped. The Texas toast was only slightly thicker than store bought sliced white bread. I am accustomed to much thicker bread when it comes under the moniker ‘Texas toast’. This qualified more as Oklahoma toast maybe, same, exact same makeup, just not as big.

They busied themselves carving the large slabs of pork. I forked a chunk off Kathy's plate and tasted it. I was quite impressed, it was smoky and juicy. It's very easy to overcook a chop, they're thin and they dry out very quickly. This place had figured it out though, it was beautifully cooked, tender and juicy.

My little sandwich was dwarfed by the thick onion rings. The BlT (notice the lower case 'L', there wasn't very much lettuce.) was constructed on plain white bread with a few, maybe four slices of bacon. It was excellent quality bacon though, cooked crisp but not burnt.

A BLT can be easily over-thought. Many places around St. Louis brag about how much bacon they can put between two slices of bread. In my mind that's like bragging about how many gallons of paint you have on your fancy sports car. It's not really about the quantity at all, it's about the quality. Ten extra gallons of red paint on a Camaro doesn't make it redder or sportier than a much thinner, quality driven amount. A little bacon goes a long way, you simply don't need a lot.

It wasn't a very big sandwich but it was quite a good sandwich. The onion rings were indeed good and searing hot. The first bite burned my lips and sprayed lava-hot juices. I let the rest cool down a bit.

Mom, Kathy and dad struggled with their chops, not with the eating of them but with the carving. Mom and dad are in their eighties and are not as physically strong as they once were, Kathy is just a delicate, fragile weakling since she’s never had to actually do anything. Dad was determined though, he finished his chop completely.

 In the distance I saw a hand drawn sign. Much of it was illegible from that far away, but one thing stood out: Chess Pie. (It’s a southern thing.) I wanted it.

Mom and Kathy told about how they always shared a slice of coconut cream pie, I was thrilled with that, since that meant I could safely ask for the Chess.  Chess pie, for those not familiar with it, is a custard pie, not very much unlike what is known in the St. Louis area as Gooey Butter Cake . Eggs, sugar, eggs, eggs, sugar and eggs. It’s dense and very rich.

I asked for coffee with mine. Dad did not get any pie since he has to tightly monitor his sugary input.

The coffee was dark and fresh, the pie insanely sweet and custard-y. Adam tried a little piece and didn’t seem to care for it and went back to his chocolate cream pie. He’s never really been in close touch with his southern ancestral heritage.

We sat back for a few minutes, glowing in the satisfaction and comfort of a good meal.

Summary:

Cerulean Springs Market and Restaurant is the most expensive eatery in town. It is at the same time, the cheapest, it's the only game in town.  Mom showed me the ticket, but it hadn’t been summed up yet and though I can normally do simple math in my head I was at the time quite jittery from the pie and coffee double-jolt. Looking at the menu though, the entrees were all under ten bucks, the sandwiches five or less, even the ‘Larry Dale Special’ (a hamburger with a fried hotdog on top) was not unreasonable. Mom grumbled a bit about it being expensive but she doesn’t get out into the real world very often.

The food we had was all pretty good and in my opinion reasonably priced. The wait staff was dutiful, attentive and accommodating. Mom said that occasionally she and dad will call in their order ahead of time and it will be ready to set on the table by the time they get there.

Since mom and dad don’t get around very well, and cooking has always been a ‘chore’ for mom, this is quite a bonus. It’s about three hundred feet short of a food delivery service.
The place is primarily for the locals.The menu is fairly sparse and they appear to serve certain things only on certain days,  Friday fish, etc. That's pretty  smart if you ask me. A restaurant's perishable inventory must be managed carefully. A small place like this in a small town like Cerulean is a very risky endeavor, anything that can be done to mitigate waste is a must.
On most days though you'll find burgers, hot sandwiches, cold cut sandwiches even a fried bologna sandwich (only $2.00!) that will live up to your appetite and tastes and fill you up just fine. I doubt that CSM&R will ever be featured in a fancy food magazine, or on TV, or be the gastronomic destination of choice for Western Kentucky, but it is fine at what it is, a small, inexpensive local eatery that lives up to and in some cases exceeds the needs and expectations of the local population.
If you do happen to dine there,  please try the Larry Dale Special and let me know how it is. I'm dying to know.


* My brother Jeff made breakfast and lunch on Sunday. Ridiculously fluffy and tasty pancakes in the morning and ham, potato casserole, green beans and the best homemade rolls I've ever had for the midday meal.
This was followed up with a 'Dina Cake', named for his lovely, tall and powerful wife. Basically a made-from-scratch chocolate cake baked in a bundt cake pan, then topped with a rich and thick cream cheese frosting. When served there is no hole in the middle of the cake. Dina fills the entire bundt-hole with even more frosting, a lot of frosting. Don't give me that look, you know you want some.
As we headed back to 'civilization', we stopped at a convenience store to fill up the gas tank. I went inside for drinks and a small snack for the tedious four hour drive.
Back in the car I twisted the cap off of my RC Cola and poured in a handful of the salted peanuts.
"What are you doing?" Adam asked.
"You wouldn't understand." Is all I said. 

Quiznos

12676 Lamplighter Square
Saint Louis, MO 63128

http://www.quiznos.com

The Place:

We had decided to try Quiznos nearly a full week ahead of time. We saw a commercial and the ensuing conversation revealed that none of us had ever tried it, or if we had, we had no recollection of it. Odd perhaps, as Quiznos are relatively ubiquitous (4000 U.S. locations), but not so much in Jefferson County.

We’d all previewed the menu and had a good idea of what to order. The main difference between Subway and Quiznos is the default style. A sandwich at Quiznos is toasted unless you specifically ask for it to not be.

This one is located in Concord, one of the hundreds of St. Louis suburbs, and one I drive through each workday since it straddles highway 21 (Tesson Ferry)  near St. Anthony’s Hospital. It’s in a shopping center that also hosts a dozen or so shops that I have no use for.

It takes about twenty to twenty five minutes to get there from our rural compound as opposed to the fifteen to twenty minutes it takes to get to Festus where most of our reviewed eateries reside.

We entered and were immediately greeted by a woman who seemed to be having a good day. It only took her a moment to qualify us.

“You never been here before?” She asked.

“No we haven’t”

This pleased her, she pointed out the mounted menus, told us what was new, and added that we should take our time and feel free to ask questions. I was already set, Angel shifted from what she’d thought she was going to get, Adam stood by quietly.

The Food:

BLT Sliders for me, French Dip (5 inch) for Angel, and a Mesquite Chicken (8 inch) for Adam. We each grabbed a bag of chips and that was it. I asked to see the size of the sliders, the lady showed me the rolls and I said I’d need two of them. “That’s the way the order comes.” She replied.

Angel settled up as I checked out the reasonable and sane drink dispenser and well appointed and neat condiment bar. Adam handed me a cup and I went straight for the unsweetened tea. It poured clear and warm, immediately melting the shallow pile of ice I’d put in the cup. I sipped it and was quite pleased. It had body, flavor and seemed fresh.

We sat and sipped for a couple of minutes. More customers passed through, most opting for to-go.

The lady engaged us a few more times, asking where we were from. “Oh, Jefferson County!” She exclaimed as if I’d said ‘Uzbekistan’. Concord is only about three miles from the Meramec River, the river that separates St. Louis County from Jefferson.

It was not long at all before our sandwiches were ready. One thing was immediately obvious, we’d be snacking later. The sandwiches were smaller than we’d imagined but not necessarily in a bad way. It was the bread that was smaller.

BLT Sliders

Subway is pretty good and we have one in Hillsboro. That’s right, Hillsboro has a Subway, a McDonalds, a Taco Bell , Hardees and Dairy Queen, but it has no public Library. That’s a problem I’m trying to help resolve by serving on the campaign committee to establish a branch of the Jefferson County Library. (subtle eh?)

Anyway, Subway to me is pretty good, and I’m certainly not unhappy when instead of cooking a meal, as a good wife should, that Angel just brings home a sub for me. I have always found them to be a bit too bready though. I like the bread, there’s just so much of it that I usually strip the stuff from inside out and leave some bread behind.

French Dip

Quiznos does not have this problem. The bread is not only more reasonably proportioned, it’s quite good and it is toasted by default. Even the slider rolls were crunchy on the outside.

The bacon was all broken up in my sliders, a nice touch. Some BLT’s put entire whole strips in their sandwiches, which often leads to dragging out an entire strip in one bite. The blend of tomato, lettuce and mayo was just right. You don’t have to put a lot of bacon on a BLT. Bacon is so strong and distinct it is often just as satisfying to have a little, spread around evenly, than try to compensate with quantity. I shy away from places that brag about how much bacon they put on sandwiches and burgers, Those places just don’t know how to treat bacon properly.

Mesquite Chicken

“That indeed is toasty.” Adam declared spontaneously. Which is probably the longest spontaneous comment Adam has made in the three years we've been doing these things. (yes, three years and over 150 reviews!)

This prompted Angel to make an assessment as well about her French dip, served with steamy au jus. “Everything’s better with au jus.”

Adam responded as if on cue: “Bless you.” (get it? ‘au jus’ sounds like achoo!). This is always funny.

I was thoroughly enjoying my sliders and chips. Adam finished his sandwich rather quickly and shared his ‘Sun Chips’ with his mother. They discussed them for a moment while I ignored the irrelevant conversation. I’m rather a purist about chips, plain, ruffled and barbecue. Civilization would be just fine without all the others. I have tried many others, I just don’t see the need. Like Ice cream, I ‘m not impressed with ‘103 flavors!’ since I can do quite well with the three original flavors that God created; vanilla, chocolate and chocolate swirl. All else is just gilding the lily.

As we were eating, a pair of women strolled in. They seemed familiar to the staff. One was older than the other but both were dressed in very tight jeans and boots, with form featuring tops and the younger one sported multi-hued hair and a furry, shaggy purse. The older one had long blonde hair, too long for a woman her age. I immediately knew what was up.

“Mother daughter prostitute team.” I whispered to Angel and Adam.

Angel immediately objected to my assessment of the pair. “They are not prostitutes!” She scolded. I dismissed this since she never accepts that any of the women I point to as being prostitutes are actually that. She simply doesn't know what one looks like so her defense of them is meaningless. I've pointed out literally hundreds of prostitutes, and to a one, she’s denied it every time.

“They just look like they went to Nordstrom’s. She countered, as if that would mean something to me. “I don’t know what a Nordsorm is, but I don’t see it as being relevant. I've been to Korea so I know what a prostitute looks like.” I countered, clearly winning the argument. A few moments after the women left, an SUV drove by the window, inside were the 'ladies'.

“Prostitutes don’t drive Mercedes SUV’s.” she said, pathetically trying to save face.

“The good ones do.” I flattened her, game, set, match.

We wadded up our wrappers and tidied up our table. The lady in charge came up to us, thanking us for about the fifth time. “We have chili.” She said. She was very good at reading people. Our reaction to that made her smile. “It’s very good, would you like to try some?”

“YES!!” I whispered.

She stepped behind the counter and dipped some into a little plastic cup, handing it to us along with two spoons. She’d read our collective reactions well enough to notice Adam didn't seem interested.

It was very hot, and once it cooled, very good. Meaty, with large red kidney beans, which Angel pointed out since she knows I’m a big fan of the big red beans. I tasted it. Multiple flavors, rich, brothy, and just a bit spicy. Angel and I shared it all the way to the bottom. Then we both sniffled. Just that much had cleared our sinuses which had been reacting to some sort of vile airborne spores all day.

“We could get some to go.” Angel suggested. I declined. Not because it wasn't good, it was very good. It’s just that the previous night I’d made a small batch of chili and ate too much and it had stayed with me too long, well past bedtime. I’ll certainly go back for more sometime.

Summary:

They're pretty generous with coupons!
Free Sub (with purchase of another)

Very, very good, very, very satisfying. The very reasonable tab came in under twenty five dollars.

The bread was exceptional and was deemed better than subway because of its proportionality. The ingredients all seemed fresh, the service was beyond good.

The lady engaged us several times, but with genuine enthusiasm, not salesman-like at all. She seemed proud of the place and its offerings, and quite happy to be at her post. Even the young man in back carving the meat was friendly and casual.

The food was great, the tea was fresh and excellent, the entire experience was without flaw. Sure it’s a sandwich shop and not some fancy sit-down Italian restaurant, but it was by all measure great for what it was.

I wish there was one closer to home, though I now know since I pass right by it every work day, that I can stop in and get good service, really good food, for not much money. I like Subway just fine, but Quiznos is just better.

Gigi’s Fresh Cafe

1727 Catlin Drive

Barnhart, Mo.

http://www.gigisfreshcafe.com/

                                              

The Place:
  Just off highway M,  west of I-55 in Barnhart. It anchors / is attached to the U-Gas station. U-Gas offers "GiGi’s Fresh Express" food at all its 18 St. Louis area  locations, but the only sit-down cafe is the one in Barnhart. The stacked stone arched entrance and large tower-like facade indicates that the owners invested quite a bit in quality materials and made a big, expensive effort to make it look like a unique, quality place.

Inside, the walls were brick, the floors hardwood, the ceilings open to the roof with exposed vents. Nice, green vinyl booth seating and chairs lined the walls and partition. The counter had scattered menus overhead making hopping between the unfamiliar options quite a chore. Noticing our new-ness to the place the lady behind the counter offered up printed menus. This helped a lot. They have a lot to offer, maybe too much. But that’s not necessarily a crime if you can manage it.

Supreme Pizza

The Food:
 Angel wanted to try their St. Louis style pizza, advertised as being prepared in a wood-burning oven. The smallest they had was 14”, too big for her alone, we would take the leftover home for Sunday breakfast. She also split an order of 12 mild hot-wings with Adam. I wasn’t in a mood for pizza ,especially St. Louis style, which I’ve found to usually be too sweet (it’s the provel cheese). I told her I’d like to try a bite though. Adam ordered a chipotle-chicken panini  and fries. I asked for the BLT and fries. They offer a choice of breads and bread options, so be prepared. This was a  pretty big order, more than we could possibly eat in one sitting. Sometimes that’s just part of the plan, especially when there’s pizza.

We were handed  our plastic tumblers and headed for the drink fountain. I got tea, Angel tested the sweet tea, tasted a little before committing, then filled up with it. Adam was impressed with the options, they offered both Coke and Pepsi, a rarity in restaurants.
We found a booth and settled in. Angel and Adam were furiously tapping on their telephones, trying to find a decent movie to rent for later, without much luck. She tried to get me interested in one that she claimed had Nazi zombies at the center of the earth. I just couldn’t get sufficiently aroused. I like a good anti-Nazi movie as much as any guy, but this whole faddish zombie thing just doesn’t work for me.(don't even get me started on vampires)

The wait was about normal for a place making made-to-order pizzas. All our food came at the same time, all fresh and hot, none of it had set around for long. A sign of quality that.

The food along with the extra plates and the pile of napkins filled the table. We looked like a poster for the sin of gluttony. But like I said, all part of the plan.

BLT

It's a bit risky putting 'fresh' in the name of your eatery. Gigi's wasn't kidding though, the food was all bright and pretty, you only get that with fresh ingredients. The cut on my BLT was lopsided, a minor flaw, but they had crammed six full slices of bacon, smoky, crisp, perfectly cooked. The lettuce and tomato were fresh and crispy as well. The mayo seemed to have a slight hint of flavoring, maybe a bit of chipotle. It wasn't too strong though, in fact it was quite good. Six slices of bacon is a lot. Not as much as the famed St. Louis eatery 'Crown Candy Kitchen'. Their 'Heart Stopping BLT' boasts fourteen slices and has been recently featured on The Travel Channel.
I thought about taking some of the bacon off, but I couldn't, it's bacon. Frankly, two or three slices is plenty, bacon has a nice strong flavor, you really don't need a lot to be fully satisfied. I will admit to feeling the effects later, groggy and sluggish, slightly nearer death, but man it was good.

The pizza was generously topped, it was their 'supreme' model. Angel and Adam pinched off small slices. Adam picked offending toppings off, Angel devoured hers and grabbed another. "Good, better than Dominos and not as sweet as Imo's." She said. This was a positive assessment, I tried a little. Sure enough, it was pretty good. In my mind perhaps the best St. Louis style I've had. They didn't over-use the sweet provel cheese, instead letting the other toppings speak mostly for themselves.

Wings

Though I'm not a fan of anyone's hot-wings, the report from Angel and Adam was unanimous, the wings were very good as well. Though they kind of swam in a pool of sauce, the chicken was still quite crunchy. The spiciness for this plate, ordered as 'mild' was about dead-on. It cleared Angel's sinuses, made her sweat a little bit and Adam said he preferred a slightly spicier version. So that means it was just about right.

Adam's sandwich was reported as being 'good', crispy and spicy.

The staff checked on us several times, removing empty plates, asking if all was well.   

Summary:

We pooled our thoughts and could not come up with anything bad to say. The food was all very good. The service was attentive and dutiful. The tab came to a misleading  forty seven and change, but remember we deliberately over-ordered. We boxed up about half the wings and more than half of the pizza. Then the sweet lady that brought us the box started aggressively up-selling desserts. They have quite a variety, including sno-cones, ice creams, etc. We explained that we'd completely overdone it already, but would be back sometime just for a dessert and some coffee maybe.
If I had any real complaint, it would be that Gigi's online menu is not at all the same as the in-store listings. That's easily fixable though, there are a lot of things offered there that simply don't show up online.

This place was quite surprising. The food was excellent, fresh, tasty, well prepared. Not what you think of when you look at it's location as one corner of a convenience store. Quick-stops make me think of wrinkly, day-old hot dogs and dubious, pre-packaged sandwiches. This was completely different. This was very, very good.

Highly recommended, very highly. Why this place hasn't branched out to more locations I have no idea. They did it right, they've got a real winner. 

Maryland Yards

2033 Dorsett Village Center

Maryland Heights, MO

http://www.marylandyards.com

 

Doug and Rob invited me to tag along again. Apparently I haven’t offended them too much yet. I was excited to hear Doug suggest Maryland Yards; I’d been wanting to review this place for quite a while. I’d been two or three times in the last few months and liked it every time.

The Place:

Located just a couple of miles from work, it’s a rustic, wood-interior sports bar. The entry is into the bar and the smoking area, in the back is the slightly fresher smelling non-smoking section. Also in the back is a pool table, electronic dart boards and several flat screen TV’s silently playing sports channels. There’s also a modern, digital jukebox-type sound system (TouchTunes) which was, during this visit, somewhat randomly playing songs from the nineties. It wasn’t too loud but it did inhibit mere whispering.

The tables and chairs were rather well-worn wood, of a few different styles. The walls were lined with beer ads and posters. The place wasn’t real busy, about half-full, or slightly less when we got there. Most of the patrons appeared to be like us, khakis and button-down-shirt office workers.

I found a table in the back that allowed me a good view of the whole operation, Doug perched himself across from me, Rob to my left. The tables were big enough to allow plenty of elbow room. The waitress dropped off menus and took our drink orders, tea for Doug and me, water for Rob. She was pleasant and was dressed the same as the rest of the visible staff. Tight jeans, sneakers, and a tight gray, low-cut tee-shirt over a brighter, less lower cut shirt that only showed at the neckline and waist. This was a sports bar which meant there was  a little obligatory exposed and nicely bronzed cleavage; our server also sported a prominent baby bump. After she left we agreed that some women are still attractive even when pregnant. Of course we meant nothing demeaning or chauvinistic by that observation, we’re all proud dads and very happily married men, who just also happen to occasionally appreciate nice things when we see them. Trust me, none of our wives worry too much about us.

The Food:

The handsomely pregnant waitress offered up the daily specials, meat loaf or “a twelve inch chili-dog pizza” the mere thought of which made me nearly barf.

I’d already decided what I wanted, the same thing I’d gotten every time I’d been there. So I ordered the BLT and fries. Rob picked the Philly sandwich with beef, they offer a Philly with chicken as well. I don’t know if chicken is approved by Philadelphia’s sandwich sanctioning organizations or not. It didn’t sound right though. Rob picked fries as well. Doug studied the menu longer, and finally chose the Reuben, with potato salad. He’s done that before, picked an odd side, just to be different I guess.

Our drinks were delivered, I sipped the tea as Rob and Doug sat silently, waiting for my verdict. They were under the impression that tea is important to me. I sniffed it, took a sip and let it swirl in my mouth. I declared it adequate. Not bitter, not cloudy, but not very interesting, or even noticeable.

While we waited we talked about work a bit, mostly the on-call schedule. Rob had recently been tagged by our esteemed boss to manage it and the current posted schedule was about to run out. I mentioned that I just assumed since the current on-call schedule only went to mid-January that there would be no more on-call after that. Kind of like that thing with the Mayan Calendar. Rob informed us otherwise, that he was drawing up a new schedule that would take us all the way to the end of the world, December 21, 2012. I’d been in charge of on-call schedules at a previous job. The first thing I did was to take myself off the rotation. Rob said that that seemed only fair, though he was too chicken to try it himself. On call is a necessary evil in our occupation. IT systems, especially big global ones, occasionally require TLC on holidays, weekends and overnight. Being on call is pretty much a guaranty that you’ll lose some sleep and probably miss some family activities for the period. We always grumble about it, but it’s just part of the job.

I think Rob and Doug discussed sports some, I drifted off and didn’t tune back in until the plates arrived. Simple and ample plating. My BLT was on some big bread, the crispy crinkle fries were stacked high. There was a small ramekin with some form of mayonnaise in it. I tasted it, found it too vinegary and set it aside. There was plenty of bacon, thick and sort of crispy. It wasn’t rubbery, just not brittle. My fries were outstanding.

Doug’s Reuben came with a similar vessel containing Thousand Island dressing. He applied a little, but only a little. He later said he appreciated it that way, letting the diner decide how much to put on. He then tried the potato salad and was not too impressed. He struggled to describe it, what he didn’t like about it, but not being a highly regarded and articulate food critic, he was not able to pinpoint it. I suggested that maybe it was too vinegary, he replied that might be the case.

Star-nosed mole

Rob was pleased with his Philly, “Really tasty.” He said.

Even though Doug wasn’t pleased with the potato salad, that didn’t stop him from completely cleaning his plate by the time Rob and I were only halfway through. Doug eats fast, really fast, he’ll tell you this himself. What he won’t say is that he eats almost as fast as a star-nosed mole.* I asked him if he’d ever been a hostage.

Summary:

I like this place a lot. I can’t put my finger on why exactly, so it’s probably a combination of things. It’s never been overcrowded, I’ve had slightly better food in other places, the service is good, and the ambiance is comfortable. The price is spot-on, my feast came to $9.20 which is under that unwritten workday lunch rule of $10 maximum. The food was plentiful, but not too-plentiful, and it was all well prepared. Rob was completely content, Doug said he’d pick another side the next time. No fuss, no muss, we were in and out in plenty of time.

I’m not sure about happy hours and evening meals, but for a workday lunch Maryland Yards has everything I like at a reasonable distance and reasonable price. Highly recommended!

_______________________

* Star-nosed mole. Considered the fastest eating mammal in the animal kingdom. “. . . taking as short as 120 milliseconds (average: 227 milliseconds) to identify and consume individual food items. Its brain decides in the ultra short time of 8 ms if a prey is comestible or not.” (Wikipedia)

The Hive

609 N. New Ballas Rd.

Creve Coeur, MO

http://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Hive/209500972435162

Though I live in Hillsboro, I work in Maryland Heights, which is a western St. Louis County suburb. It is just under forty miles from my rural compound and vastly more suburban.

Occasionally a small group of us go out to lunch together, places that I’d never go with the family since the drive is too far for a casual Saturday evening outing. A few of my co-workers have in the past asked if I was going to critique the places we lunched at, I’d always said no, I didn’t want to mix business with hobby.

But I’ve changed my mind. We’ve been to some really excellent places, why spare them from the wrath of my formal critique? I may not critique every outing, but I will be reviewing some.

The Place:

The Hive is a two-story bar and grill, an old, repurposed building, maybe even a house. The stairs are steep and the poor waitresses must develop thighs and calves otherwise restricted to marathon runners and ballet dancers.

There are bars on both floors, but a kitchen on only one.

We walked into the lower level and were greeted by a tall, tanned, toned, bare-midriff’ed bartender who seemed quite proud of her cleavage.

For the purposes of this review I’ll call the co-workers I was  with  Rob and Doug. I’ve worked with Rob for over five years, we worked at that beer company for three years together, then, six months apart, we both jumped over to where we are now. Doug has been at our current company for around a decade. Both are great guys, hard workers, smart and funny. Doug knows more terrible jokes than any one person I’ve ever come across. Rob, like me, is rather quiet, focused, and not prone to frequent outbreaks of chit-chat.

The place was crowded, a Friday lunch in an area filled with office buildings. Lot’s of khakis, a few ties, and only occasionally a pair of jeans. The place packs them in for afternoon happy hour specials as well.

The Hive is unapologetically a sports bar. Posters and memorabilia everywhere, TV’s mounted on every wall, all flashing one sort of sports or another.

I’d heard that the local professional baseball team is in some sort of playoff, and the mood of the place seemed to be full of talk and excited chatter about stats and players; RBI’s, ERA,s and someone called ‘Pujols.’ (unfortunately pronounced ‘poo-holes’)

The menus were already on the small table as were the requisite drink lists and condiments. Looking around I saw the place was filled with cheap black metal chairs and small, crowded tables covered by mismatched tablecloths. There was barely enough room between them to move around, and no discernable aisles. I supposed that’s why they only hired skinny women to work there.

The menu, a laminated tri-fold, was no-nonsense and un-illustrated. No need for pictures or lengthy explanations really, the food was all straightforward bar and grill fare. I wanted to eat light, I normally eat little or nothing at all for lunch, as doing so often leads to the two-thirty groggies. I scanned the entirety of the menu, the choice was obvious. BLT.

We ordered our drinks, tea for Doug and I, Rob, being cheap, asked for water. I should have as well, as the tea cost two bucks. I suppose that’s because of the quantity, The Hive serves up its non-cocktail drinks in quart-sized plastic pitchers. No glasses are offered, you drink straight from the small pitchers. It’s a gimmick, quaint, cute.

We placed our orders through another slender young lady, clad in short-shorts and a barely large enough top. The Hive is apparently almost Hooter’s-like in it’s hiring of wait staff. Hey, it’s a sports bar, in order to compete you have to do what you must.

Fortunately Rob, Doug and I are all professional, mature and seasoned adults, amused perhaps, but ultimately immune to such obvious and overt displays of feminine wiles. While most of the other men in the bar were observed to be smitten with the ladies, the three of us remained in our perfectly chaste and sober state. We tsk’d the baser behaviors of some of the less mature men in the place, pleased that we were better than that.

The Food:

I ordered my BLT with whatever default side was offered, chips, as it turns out, and a pickle spear. I’ve said it before, BLT’s constitute a ‘light’ lunch in that a BLT doesn’t weigh very much compared to a sub or burger. It probably also weighed less than some of the salads I’d observed at other tables, they were served in what can only be described as mixing bowls.

Rob asked for the patty melt and chips, Doug went wild and asked for the Bleu Bomb burger, advertised as containing Bleu Cheese and bacon, and upped the ante by ordering the house-made kettle chips.

We waited, the TV’s showed hockey and baseball highlights. Doug and Rob started a conversation about sports, so I found myself drifting away into my own thoughts, nodding my head occasionally as if I were actually engaged in the topic.

I have nothing against sports, I just have very little interest. I often find myself drifting off when around groups of guys.

I took notice instead of the place; dark, rough wood walls, uneven floors and ceilings. The emergency lights were held together with duct tape. Somewhere there were speakers pouring out an almost too-loud phalanx of techno-music with simple, but fast-pounding, metallic bass-beats. I recognized none of the songs or artists since I really don’t keep up with music either.

Our baskets were delivered by the same barely-clad skinny girl, poor thing. The chips delivered to Rob and I were merely from-a-bag ripple chips, not even the expensive ones. Doug’s chips were thicker and darker. He offered a couple up for tasting. Next time I might get those instead as they were much tastier than the cheap chips in my basket.

The toast for my BLT was buttered, a leaf of lettuce, a rough-cut tomato slice, and a decent pile of bacon. It was just standard white bread, but that suited me better than a thick chunk of sourdough or something else heavy and fancy.

Doug’s burger looked like a burger, Rob’s patty melt seemed to be decently sized. Doug’s burger disappeared fast, not surprising though. Doug has raised five children. I imagine it’s a fight for survival at mealtimes. Eat as much as you can as quick as you can or risk going without.

Rob and I were more leisurely, Rob has a kid, maybe two, I forget, and there’s less competition for food. Doug did say that his burger was thoroughly cooked, but not dry and he found that pleasantly surprising.

The BLT fell apart quickly. The generous tomato slice was very juicy and the weak bread just didn’t hold up well. The second half fell completely apart and I ended up pinching out the bacon and tomato with my fingers, leaving a lot of the disintegrating bread behind. I didn’t mind, less bread equals less filling.

Summary:

We all enjoyed our meals, I didn’t eat most of my chips but only because I’m not accustomed to that many calories and carbs in the middle of a workday. The bill came in, I didn’t see Rob’s or Doug’s, but I assume they were similarly priced. Mine was $8.60 and I added a $2 tip, hoping the poor girl could buy herself some long pants or maybe a shirt that at least covered her tummy. The service was pretty good, barely flirty at all, but professional and efficient. The food was pretty good, and not overly priced or pretentious.

We’ll go back I am sure, it’s not that far from work and it’s much better than those convenience-store hot dogs that Doug usually has for lunch.

Granny Franny’s

3191 Flucom Rd
De Soto, MO

Adam’s choice.  We had initially discovered the place while doing an active search for eateries on the Wide World of Web, drove by it once while we were in the general vicinity. I asked our silver haired waitress about the name, expecting a quaint and interesting story about 'Granny Franny'. As it turns out, the joint was opened by a lady named Franny who just happend to be a grandmother.
I said I expected it to be interesting, not that it actually was.

The Place:

It’s a bit out of our normal search range, though it has a Desoto address, it’s actually seven or eight miles east of Desoto, at the intersection of Flucom Road and Highway 67. We rarely have a need to go that far in that particular direction, the population and number of businesses out that way are pretty thin, and it’s not even on the way to anywhere we usually go.

The building is shared with a convenience store, so this is like a traditional cross-road rest stop. Outside the noise was of high-speed highway traffic, there were only a few cars in the lot. The door opened up to a typical, diner looking place. The chairs were black, the tables were all covered with yellow-ish vinyl tablecloths. The walls were bare, brown brick up to halfway up, the rest was painted a reddish rust color. All the empty tables had wrapped place settings and paper placemats, and every setting sported an inverted, heavy white coffee mug.

Seating was segregated on two sides of the entry, though there was no visible apparatus to keep the smoke from the left side from wafting into the non-smoking right side. The aroma was there, but not overpowering.

We were escorted to a table by a silver-haired lady of obvious and significant experience wearing a red St Louis Cardinals jersey emblazoned with the number ‘7’ and the word ‘Holliday’ across the back. I’m not sure what it meant, probably has something to do with baseball. She was the only member of the staff we ever saw, the front was her domain. There were a few patrons on the left side, we were the only folks on the right. We picked up our menus which boasted ‘Hand-dipped Milk Shakes’ on the cover. (Adam and I naturally pondered the purported added-value of someone dipping their hands into milkshakes.) The menu listed the standard fare, chicken-fried steak, burgers, a few sandwiches, and lots of breakfast choices.

The Food:

I decided to go a little light since I’d had a solid breakfast at Kim’s Café earlier. (I was in DeSoto to title my unimpressive car and the place to do that, a furniture store, was just a few blocks down main street from Kim’s)

The BLT jumped out at me. I consider BLT’s ‘light’ since they don’t usually weigh too much. That was good enough for me, I’d let Angel and Adam do the heavy lifting.

We took delivery of our drinks, Tea, tea and as Adam ordered it; ‘Pepsi-Coke’. As I had mentally predicted, Angel ordered the Chicken Fried Steak (CFS). When asked for her choice of sides, she naturally demanded mashed potatoes with gravy, lots of gravy and was then told she still needed to pick a couple of veggies. The waitress rattled off a list of the usual ones, but one threw me.

“Did you say ‘beets’?” I asked.

“Yes I did.”

This confused me. Had we taken a bad turn and ended up in in the outskirts of Kiev?   Стара, принеси мені відро борщу!   (Old woman, Bring me a bucket of Borscht!)

“How is that prepared?” I asked, trying to cover up the reflexive gagging sounds.

She curled up her face like I was an idiot and simply replied “Pickled” as if that were the only possible method of serving them. There are in fact many ways of serving beets, all of them disgusting. They are very popular in many eastern European countries, along with potatoes because both are roots, and no decent vegetable would want to show its face above-ground in those dismal, bleak places. The national motto in Ukraine translates to something like “We’ve proudly become quite adept at being cold, hungry and politically oppressed!”

Smartly, Angel did not order the beets, and instead asked for green beans and fried okra. Yeah, Okra. Yuck. Sure some American cultures eat okra all the time, but I’m pretty sure those people are too ignorant or poor to know any better. I mean why resort to eating that bitter, slimy stuff when there’s so many perfectly healthy cats running around?

Adam ordered the CFS sandwich and fries. The lady asked him if he’d like anything on his sandwich so he asked her what was available. “Tomatoes, onions. . .”  He stopped her there. “Never mind, just the sandwich please.” Adam doesn’t like regular, wholesome sandwich toppings.

While we waited for our starter, fried ravioli, we watched as people came and went with take-out pizza. It’s another service provided by this crossroad business. The ravioli was good, served with a bowl of marinara sauce for dipping. You have to watch out for this St. Louis treat though, when fried, the meat and cheese inside remains at three thousand degrees for several minutes, and when bitten in to the innards shoot out with the force of a locomotive into the tender parts of your mouth, where it sticks like boiling tar. I think it’s what napalm is made out of.

BLT + Fries

The food arrived in good time. Mine, a simple sandwich and fries was well made, the bacon thick and extra-crispy, the fries generic but well cooked. I could not be disappointed. Angel’s plate was mostly gravy though she insists there was an actual CFS and mashed potatoes underneath. Adam’s sandwich didn’t have any gravy on it, so he took the bun top and set it down in his mother’s plate, coating the underside of the bun completely. She even spooned some more onto his sandwich later in the meal. She actually ate her okra, (after dipping it into the gravy as well) if only to make me angry.

All the food was well prepared, served simply, very tasty and satisfying. Angel had weighed herself down, I had smartly left room for some apple pie, which I had made at home earlier in the day.

Summary:

The bill came to nearly twenty eight bucks, $4.79 of which was the ravioli starter. Which means that Granny Franny’s is on par with Kim’s and most other locally owned eateries of this style. A lot of food, good food, for not a lot of money. The staff, the silver-haired lady was quick, polite, and professional. The entire transaction was seamless and without error or mishap.

It’s not a place I will frequent, but only because it is well out of the way of pretty much everything I need to do, but it’s nice to know it’s there, serving that rural area of the county. If you happen to be traveling down Highway 67, though I can’t imagine why you would be, then by all means stop in and chow down!