St. Louis Bread Company (Panera)

1075 W. Gannon Dr.
Festus, Mo.
On  the Web



Outside the Metro St. Louis area, this 1800 store franchise is known as Panera Bread. The 101 locations here though, still go by the original name, St. Louis Bread Company.
It's quite a popular lunch or shopping break place. No deep fat fried items, mostly fresh made breads, salads, pastas and soups.
I had recently re-read some earlier reviews, looking for places that I needed to re-evaluate. This one surprised me as I feel as though we'd been there more frequently, but no. Not since 2010.
In that review I summarized by saying essentially that I'd ordered the wrong thing.
Well, time to fix that with a little advanced planning. During the week before this visit, I looked up the menu and made a mental list of things I'd be happier with.
The Place:
I like the idea of SLBC. A quality step up from fast food joints. They are also made for lounging.
Aside from the booths and tables, there are lounge chairs, quiet, cozy nooks that beg to be relaxed in. Grad a small bite, a cup of coffee, some WiFi or a book and just sit back, take a break. Like a coffee house. It has a clean, modern, casual look and feel. The seating area is separated from the ordering and counter area. I want to like SLBC.
We stepped in and up to the  ordering area. My mind went blank. It took me several minutes to readjust, refocus. No panini sandwich, no panini sandwich. . .
Commonly panini are squashed in a George Foreman type grill. I've decided that I didn't want all the ingredients heated, I wanted them fresh and cool. That was rule 1. . . I forgot the other rules. There was a soup that looked good. . . nope don't remember, go for a classic.
I placed my order, Angel placed hers, they handed over my cup. Angel settled up and waited for her lemonade. They also gave her a flashing vibrator. You know, the kind restaurants hand out to alert you when your order is ready.
I found us a table by the window, a four top. The boys, Adam and Larry arrived separately. We were going to a farm supply store afterward and for some reason they weren't interested in doing that. They were also handling their own bills. It's a new arrangement, part of an agreement we reached when Larry moved in. It's not a contentious agreement, just one that is part of the ongoing growing up process.
They would sit with us though.

The Food:
I had poured myself some unsweet tea. It looked clear and fresh. It was pretty good. Angel loves the lemonade, the boys had pop.
The vibrator started flashing and jiggling. At the same time someone behind the counter shouted Angel's name. The redundancy seemed completely unnecessary. No one could ignore the flat, square pager. Angel fetched the food. It looked fresh and clean.
I had ordered a Bacon Turkey Bravo sandwich and Creamy Tomato soup. The sandwich contained turkey, apple wood smoked bacon, greens, tomato and Gouda cheese doused with a small amount of their 'signature' sauce.
According to some folks who reverse engineer foods, the 'signature' sauce is ketchup based with lemon juice, Worcestershire and Tabasco sauce with a pinch of dried mustard. That sounds about right, it had a zing to it. The bread was their tomato basil bread, which you can also buy by the loaf. It was darker than white bread, a little more orange than wheat.

Angel had originally ordered a Greek salad with some clam chowder, but had been informed that  they were out of the chowder, so she subbed with cheesy broccoli soup. Each of our plates came with a softball sized soft roll. That looked pointless to me, I was already having a sandwich. Angel said it was for the soup, but that didn't make sense either, they'd provided a perfectly good spoon.
I like tomato soup, though I don't have it often as it is not very filling. This soup looked thick, bright and fresh. The sandwich was pretty. Folded deli turkey, bright lettuce, a strip of bacon, all on that slightly tanned bread. It hadn't been smooshed down. Beside it a nice looking, but pointless roll. In fact, when I did try to smoosh the sandwich, things slithered out all sides. I stuffed them back together and again, trying to make it small enough to fit into my mouth caused the slippery innards to act like like-pole magnets and fly apart. I determined that the main problem was the meat. Having been folded, it was not flat. The fold was much thicker than the ends, creating a wedge. The slippery tomato and friction-less lettuce had nothing to stick to, the whole thing was like ice on ice. The crust proved to be yet another problem. It was thick and neither soft nor crisp. It was, as best I can describe it, leathery. It would not compress, it could not be bitten through, I could only engage it in a destructive bout of tug of war. I only tried this once since that tugging caused the sandwich to come completely apart. I finally just ripped the crust off of the remaining mess of a sandwich. Both
Angel and Adam tried the crust, assuming I was exaggerating the problem. In the end, they agreed.
Though  the sandwich ingredients themselves were tasty, mechanically the sandwich was a serious fail. The whole point of a sandwich is convenience. A small one like this you should be able to eat it, stem to stern with one hand while you are holding a book in the  other. Not this one. It took both hands just to keep the thing together.
Angel was quite happy with her salad. "It's a Greek salad." she said, some sort of Greek dressing, some Greek olives, a little pepper. . .  Nothing outstanding, but it was fresh and satisfying. It's hard to screw up a salad. I could say the same about sandwiches, but they proved me wrong. As for the soup, Cheesy Broccoli, She liked it, but was really in the mood for chowder. My soup was good, though it looked like something had curdled a little in it. It may have been tomato pulp, it might have been thin curdles of cream, I couldn't tell, but near the end of the bowl, as the temperature dropped to tepid, it was texturally a little off-putting. There wasn't a lot of food to begin with, but having discarded a lot of the bread and stopping about two thirds of the way into the soup, there was ample room for more. Angel suggested dessert, with coffee. We rarely have dessert when we go out,  but it sounded like a great idea this time.

We headed back to the entry and looked over the pastry offerings. I'm not a fancy guy, I latched on to the cinnamon roll. Angel picked a smaller knotted pastry, a pecan twist. There was more than one style of coffee to choose from, some spicy, sweet concoctions, but also some plain, dark roast. I like a strong, dark coffee, so I filled my mug. Angel got something a little more girly.
The roll was simply gorgeous. All the food at SLBC seems to be made to appeal to the eye. We took our pastries and mugs back to our table and dug in. The cinnamon roll tasted exactly right, just the right combination of cinnamon, sugar, yeasty dough and frosting. I should just leave it at that. I really should, but I can't. the cinnamon roll was pretty dry. It tasted great, but it was very, very, day-old dry. Still better than no cinnamon roll though and the coffee was very good.
Summary:
I know I sound like  a whiner, but I really, really want to like SLBC. I just can't seem to find any food-reason to go there. Everything I've tried there has ended up being a bit of a disappointment. Not gross, disgusting or awful, just not up to my modest expectations. Even as a lunch destination, I have no real desire to pick SLBC over just about anywhere else. It's disappointing that a Bread Company's cinnamon roll is too dry and a sandwich bread is mechanically impossible to eat.  Is that asking too much?
The place wasn't expensive and I appreciate the less than Texas-sized portions. I like the freshness and clean-ness of the place and the food. I like the smell of baking bread, good coffee and stable WiFi. . .
Maybe this was a series of flukes, a too-old cinnamon roll, an overcooked loaf of tomato basil bread, slipperier then usual meat. . . but I really don't think so. If I were to guess, it is a problem of style over substance. Appearance over function. That's my opinion anyhow.
Angel doesn't agree, she likes the place and the food just fine. So this is really a draw. Maybe I'm just missing something.
Thoughts?

Poppy's Ristorante

2000 N. Truman Blvd.
Crystal City, Mo
On the Interwebs
On Facebook
We like Poppy's. It's a deceivingly classy and beautiful eatery, next to a bowling alley.
The Place:
The interior is gorgeous. Hardwood floors, heavy wood furnishings, and the walls are decorated with nice, tasteful and well thought out art. Even the lamps are tasteful and classy. I encourage you to got there and see for yourself. If you can't, please got to their web site to see the photos.
It was about half full when we got there, the day had been blustery, but temperatures in the forties beat the snot out of those we had experienced earlier in the week.
Angel picked it, no one objected. They make really good dishes, and plenty on them. They serve seafood, pasta, steaks and chicken all various ways. The bar is very well appointed. Angel said she wanted something less filling than the huge pasta plates we usually get. That sounded like a plan.
We were seated immediately at a four-top in the back room. Next to us were three heavy oak, pew-like booths. One held a young dad and his two pre-teen boys. I knew that story without even knowing them.
We ordered our drinks, tea, sweet tea and Pepsi. Sharp, professional, black shirted staff members bustled about. A senior citizen one of a of a foursome at the next table started singing "Jesus Loves Me", all smiles.
Which I have to say was better than the slightly too-loud music from the overhead. It just didn't fit. I suppose it was supposed to be adult contemporary, and they weren't actually bad songs, it just didn't fit with the general ambiance. Something soft and classical, Bach's Well Tempered Clavier or some piano sonatas would be better, or maybe some 50's classic trumpet and piano jazz. The stuff playing was like old late night FM (when nobody was listening) or Muzak.
The Food:
Angel decided rather quickly. I was still perusing, as was Adam. She ordered an appetizer, the St. Louis favorite, toasted ravioli. We'd seen an episode of "Restaurant Impossible" this week where Chef Robert Irvine ripped up the dish made at the St. Louis restaurant that supposedly invented the stuff. Though Mama's "On the Hill" Is reputedly the actual location of origin, the ownership of the place has changed a few times since the original dish came about in the 1940's. Irvine said the stuff there was just frozen ravioli. Which it might have been. Anyway, by episode's end they'd fixed that.
It's not complicated. You make ravioli, let it dry a bit, bread it (Panko please) and slam it into a deep fryer. The composition of the ravioli is key, as is the quality of the marinara sauce you dip it in.
The ravioli at Poppy's was pretty good, better than some places, mostly bars, that I've had it. Not too dry, crisp, yet with a moist, cheesy filling. The marinara was house made and quite good.
The tea was simply excellent. It's as if they knew I was coming. Clear, dark, fresh, a respectable 4 1/2 on the PJTea scale. We ordered.

Como salad

Me: NY Strip steak (medium rare), a baked potato and the combination salad with house dresing. Angel sure enough didn't order pasta, she asked for the lighter grilled salmon, a greek salad, then she blew the go-light plan by adding a baked potato. Adam ordered the Chicken Capri, described as "Charbroiled or lightly breaded,chicken, fried, prepared in a white wine, cheese and butter sauce, with broccoli, freshly sliced mushrooms, bits of prosciutto ham, and a touch of garlic." He asked for it without the mushrooms. He sided it with potato and bacon soup and mostaccoli in marinara sauce.

Greek Salad

We munched happily on the ravioli and the fat warm buns we'd been served. The place started to fill up even more.
The salads and soup arrived shortly. I'd had Angel's Greek before. It's good but I wanted something more American. The Combo salad is just lettuce, onions, carrots, and cherry tomatoes, a pretty basic salad, but what made this salad pop was the dressing. Sweet and creamy, absolutely delightful.
Adam's soup was thick and hot. chunks of potato and bacon filled his spoon, it disappeared pretty quick.
Just as we were finished with these, the entrees arrived.
The plates were clean, not cluttered with garnish. The foil-wrapped baked potatoes came on separate small plates. On my steak plate there was the steak, nothing else, on Angel's just the salmon. Adam's was gloppier, thick chunky sauce covered the plate, the chicken barely visible. In his separate plate was a pretty big pile of tubular pasta, covered in red sauce.
I cut into the steak, perfectly cooked, juicy, bloody, hot. I prepared my potato, slashing into it like a mad man, until it was practically mashed, then I added the sour cream and attacked it again. Butter and cream melted together soaking decadently into the ground up meat of the potato. I was looking forward to this, I hadn't had a baked potato in a long time, maybe months. Angel nodded her head after her first taste of her salmon. She picked off a small chunk of the fish and slid it onto my plate. I had some potato to clear my pallet, then another bite because it was so yummy, then tasted the salmon. It had a nice smoky taste and was quite flaky.
My steak was perfect. They hadn't tried to add flavors to it, just a good, honest, salt and peppered steak. I had cut the steak in half, it was a big boy, and I imagined I would take about half of it home. I had plans for it. Sunday morning scrambled eggs and steak plans.
The tea filler came around every time our glasses got down to half, the food went down smoothly and quickly, especially the potato. It was perfectly cooked, tender, warm and buttery.
Adam barely picked at his pasta, Angel tried it and winced a little. I thought about trying it but...potato.
Finally finished, I asked for a box. Meanwhile Angel said that though the fish was  very good, it would have enjoyed some sort of sauce, as it was "kind of dry after awhile." Adam said that the pasta sauce wasn't very good. Angel said that it tasted like someone had heated a can of diced tomatoes and poured it on straight, no depth to the taste. I thought this was odd, since everything else indicated that the kitchen knew how to deliver flavors.
Adam also said that the chicken sauce was a little strong on the wine taste. Adam's not a wine drinker. In fact he doesn't seem to ingest alcohol of any kind. I can't say that his assessment of the sauce counts as a bad note since he doesn't like wine.
Summary:
I filled the little Styrofoam box with the half steak. A manager came by and asked how everything was, I remarked honestly that I thought it quite good.
The bill arrived, a not surprising sixty seven dollars and change. We were told that the appetizer discount would be applied at the check-out. They'd told us earlier that for some reason or another, appetizers were half-off this evening. That would bring the tab down about three dollars.
As we were getting up, a server was talking to the man with the two boys. She said he looked familiar.
"Yeah, we used to come here a lot when we lived here . . .  (awkward pause) We're divorced now and I only come to town once in a while."  I felt a little sad for him. I knew the drill, I had recognized the situation when I first saw them, but not because of some psychology class or documentary on the subject. No, I learned this from the school they call life.
We grabbed our stuff and headed up front. You pay at the cash register at Poppy's.
The service was excellent, at every point, absolutely no criticisms here. The food was mostly excellent, just minor points, like some sauce for the fish and they might want to rethink the sauce on the pasta.
Angel was griping. Her plan for going for a light meal had been quickly spoiled by that potato. For me it was quite different. My life had been rejuvenated by it.
I highly recommend Poppy's. If I had to give up my lucrative restaurant reviewing gig, Poppy's would still find a solid place on my short list of  favorites.

Poppy’s Ristorante

2004 N Truman Blvd

Crystal City, MO

http://www.poppysristorante.com/

Had the weather reports earlier in the week predicted correctly, we would have been covered by nearly a foot of snow, what we had instead though was a dreary, cold rain. We need the rain, the Mighty Mississippi is low, threatening to halt barge traffic. I doubt that the heavy, prolonged showers we got on Saturday will solve the problem, but at least it would slow it down. Two days in the fifties and sixties followed by an all day rain, I wasn’t too worried about having to shovel out this weekend.

So we headed out in the cold drizzle, to Crystal City, North of the town’s center on Truman Boulevard also known as Highway 61/67.

The Place:

Adjoined to the Quonset Lanes, a bowling alley, Poppy’s is a nice place. The interior is lined and furnished with ornate heavy wood, almost church-like, very stylish. Not at all the industrial, mass-produced furnishings found at strip mall diners and cafes.

We stepped through the puddles, relieved to see the ‘Immediate Seating’ neon sign lit up. Sure enough there were several empty tables and we were led to one immediately, as promised.

We were handed menus and asked about drinks. I went out on a limb and asked for tea, Angel inquired about and ordered a Diet Dr. Pepper, and Adam a Pepsi. A few moments later Angel was informed that they were out of DDr. P, so she switched it to the full octane Dr. P.

Overhead, Sirius XM ‘The Blend’ was playing some good tunes.

The Food:

They brought the drinks and rolls, big rolls, fantastic rolls. Light, crunchy on the outside, fluffy on the inside and warm enough to melt the butter. The tea was fresh, bright and tasty.

The menu was simple and well laid out. It didn’t take very long for us to be ready to order. I’d had the cannelloni a couple of times already and was determined to have something else this time. The waitress had told us about a couple of specials, one in particular sounded pretty good. The penne pasta special  included green onions, chicken and bacon in a white sauce. I added the Greek salad.

Angel went for the Pasta Con Pesce again, a seafood and linguine plate she’d had before, and of course she added the Greek salad as well.

Adam jumped at a new (to us) item on the menu, Buffalo Chicken Penne. He added the soup instead of a salad.

Penne Special

I stole Angel’s Angry Bird Machine, her smart phone, and played a couple of rounds. I’d started playing this silly game over the holidays, a little here and there, refusing to become addicted to it. I’m not a ‘game’ person, but something about the simple concept and the ability to try a level again and again and again without penalty had hooked me for the time being. As with all other games I’ve ever played though I will surely grow bored with it pretty soon.

Pasta Con Pesce

The salads and soup arrived in good time. The salad was piled high and very pretty. There’s a problem with Poppy’s salad though, the plate is too small. To cut the pepper and onion slices means that lettuce will fall off onto the table, not a lot of working room. There’s nothing at all wrong with the freshness or the taste though, nothing at all.  There were plenty of olives as well, not those tight polished orbs you get out of a cheap jar, these were irregular, rough, and had a much deeper flavor.

Buffalo Chicken Penne

The salads and soup disappeared and shortly the main courses arrived. Heaping, steaming pastas. A LOT of pasta. My penne was creamy and smoky, with chunks of chicken and green onions and lots of bacon bits. The creamy sauce was rich and  savory, buttery. My pasta bowl was not quite as large as the other two, but I knew there was still much more than I could deal with in one sitting.

Angel never ran out of shrimp chunks. She too had to admit to defeat though, there was enough pasta on our three plates to feed Europe.

Adam picked through his, I could tell something was wrong. I finally pried it out of him. “I’m not a big  Ranch Dressing guy.” 

He likes hot wings and said that sure enough the hot-wing taste was consistent and the spiciness was not overpowering. They had laid on as a sauce, a big dollop of ranch. Though the tastes were all as-advertised it was simply a better plan on paper than in execution.

We asked for two boxes, Adam wasn’t taking his leftovers home.

Summary:

A few minor points, but otherwise Poppy’s is a place we like quite well.

While we were dining, three or four uniformed staff members gathered at a table near the door.  This is usually a big no-no in higher end places. One reason is that, sure enough, the ladies eventually started talking about work and some of the customers, dirty laundry being aired in front of paying guests. They weren’t too loud really, but if I were the owner I don’t think I’d like them talking shop in the dining area like that. It’s just not good form.

The biggest complaint we had though was the portions. This is a silly thing to consider a problem, but it is something Poppy’s may want to take a look at. There’s no fixed formula, but if the majority of your guests are boxing up half or more of their meal, you might reconsider portion size.

Pasta is heavy, the sauces are rich and creamy. Milk-based sauces don’t digest/break down quickly. For that reason that it’s far easier to quickly drink a gallon of water or even beer than it is to drink a gallon of milk. In fact, it is nearly impossible. Ergo, milk/cream and cheesy sauces are much, much more ‘filling’ than tomato based sauces.
There’s simply no profit in sending half meals out the door, even though the price is not really bad.

Our meal cost us fifty five and change, it would have been ten dollars less had we remembered to bring our coupon. We’re on their mailing list and they send out coupons fairly often, though we never seem to remember to take them.

Poppy’s is a very good place. The food is awesome, there’s simply too much of it if that sort of thing can be considered a problem. The décor is classy, different and quite nice, the staff, aside from the front of house get-togethers were all professional and efficient. I highly recommend this place, the food is much better than and price-comparable to the franchise sports bars.