Taytro's Bar and Bistro

343 North Creek Drive
Festus, Mo.
On the Interwebs
On the Facebook


Often mentioned by locals in social media discussions as one of the most recommended eateries in Jefferson County. Trattoria Giuseppe is usually mentioned as well. I concur. These two places pop to the top of my mind when queried as well, though there's a couple of places in DeSoto that are very close runners-up.
Giuseppe's is a make a reservation, sit-down, multi-course full Italian restaurant. Taytro's, as the name suggests, is a bar and bistro. Whereas Giuseppe's is high end dishes, Taytro's is more working class food, made extremely well.
Taytro's is by design, New Orleans style. The place to go in the area for jambalaya, po' boys and etouffee.
The Place:
Top of the hill above Highway A (Veteran's Blvd) near the intersection of 67 (Truman).  An unassuming place in a stand of standard, modern strip mall shops. We got there a bit early, we had other things to do while out. We weren't dragging the boys with us this time. This allowed us to loosen up a little more than usual, let our hair down, in our own way. By that I mean we looked around the flooring department at Lowes. The kind of stuff young bucks just don't have the patience for.
We went in and were seated by a young lady. There were several tables open, we got one in the middle of the floor. There was noise coming from the nearby bar. A few adults imbibing adult beverages and whooping it up a little to a sports game on the overhead TV. Fortunately it was muted,  unfortunately, the patrons were not. As best as I could make out it was football, American style, a game between Alabama and something that was referred to as a 'Mizzou'. The people at the bar seemed to be enjoying it though.
Yes, I know what a 'Mizzou' is. I just can't be vocally supportive of the state's biggest school since I have never had any affiliation it it other than sending precious and generous tax dollars to it. It would be blasphemous to root for a college other than those where I matriculated, even though to my knowledge Wayland Baptist University, (Plainview, TX) doesn't even field a team and The university of Southern California, where I did my graduate work, is just too far away to really care about and it's a bit embarrassing to cheer for a team that is named after a popular brand of prophylactics. I can only imagine the mascot.
As is their custom around holiday time Taytro's had thrown up some tinsel and garlands, a few lights, not too much though.
Pretty soon Claire came by and asked about drinks and appetizers. We both asked for tea and said no thanks to the latter.
I listened to the music a bit, pretty good, 'Ain't No Sunshine', 'Somethin's Got a Hold on Me'. . . cool stuff. The best of the evening was undoubtedly 'The Banana Boat Song' (Day-o) that had even the bartender, a goth-y, tattooed lady, dancing around like they did in the movie 'Betelgeuse'.
I was jumping around on the menu. Truth be told, I wasn't feeling very well. I hadn't eaten since breakfast (apple pancakes! Mmmm!) but I was feeling a little queasy. I didn't want anything heavy.
The Food:
I picked at the menu selections, finding fault with everything, too bready too ricey, didn't care much for this and that. When Claire returned for the second time I said "Sure, a catfish po' boy and chips, please."
Angel opted for the shrimp etouffee, she usually gets the crawfish version. She added the house salad, which is about the best house salad in the county. They use a sweet, poppy seed dressing that is to die for.
I knew immediately that I'd be asking for a box. I wasn't nearly hungry enough to finish an entire sandwich.
Angel's salad came out promptly, I watched the people watch football.

It wasn't very long before the main courses arrived. Sure enough my sammich looked enormous. Two full
crisp, golden catfish planks, lettuce, tomato slices a light dose of chipotle mayo. The still-warm, freshly made chips were a deep brown and lightly spiced. . . these are some awfully good chips. But boy was that a big sandwich. I cut it in half.
I love catfish. It's not a western Kentucky river-kid thing. I hated it when I was young. The only kind of fish I ever ate while growing up and even into early adulthood were tuna and fish sticks. Somewhere though I discovered the earthy flavor and texture that I often crave now.
When you order catfish in a restaurant, it is probably either a channel cat or a blue cat. These fish grow fast and they grow big, up to four feet, and have been known to attack human divers. Being opportunistic eaters, they'll go after just about anything that gets their attention. Though they have relatively small eyes, even big strong eyes could not see far on a silty river bottom, they use their 'whiskers'  (barbels) as range and direction finding food antennae. They can sense vibration and chemically analyze the water for the presence of nearby food sources. A pretty amazing critter. And tasty.
I cut the sandwich and bit in. The fish was perfectly cooked. only lightly breaded, it was crispy followed by moist, flaky white fish meat. I usually prefer catfish in nugget form, to dip into tartar sauce, but even a plank is pretty good. The bread, as I suspected, was rather dense and thick. It was going to slow me down. I've gotten to a point where, even though I like bread, I even still own and use a bread maker, I don't like the trend of putting sandwiches on mile-thick buns. Half the thickness of this would have been just fine. But the fish was spot-on.
Angel's stew-like etouffee had plenty of grill blackened shrimp along with onion, celery, bell peppers, andouille sausage and garlic, in a white wine, butter and cream sauce served over a couple of ice cream scoops worth of white rice. The buttered and grilled toast they serve with many of the dishes is awesome.
Compared to the crawfish version that she usually gets, she said "The crawfish seems more authentic." But admitted the grill job on the shrimp made up for a lot of that. She cleaned her plate.
As for me, I barely made it through the first half of the sandwich, and only about a third of the chips. Like I said, I was queasy.
Summary:
Claire took very good care of us. Our food arrived complete, correct and in a timely manner. Our refills were appropriate and the chit-chat was minimal yet friendly. The rest of the staff seemed dutiful and competent, down to the hostess who, between new customer arrivals, busied herself standing in a tall bar chair updating the overhead chalk board with the evening specials, which at one interruption touted only 'Stuffed'.
The bill came in at a modest and appropriate thirty bucks and change. Not bad at all. Plenty of really good food for that price.
Taytro's has been near the top of our list since it first opened a few years back. We take visiting family there and recommend it to others. The powerful combination of very well made, unique (for the area) dishes, a decent bar, good, friendly  service and of course, the frequent live music (which we've never actually heard) makes it a very popular joint. It is modern, clean and convenient.
And the tea isn't awful.

Taytro's

343 North Creek Drive
Festus, Mo
http://taytros.com/
On Facebook


Boy's night out!
Angel was attending a dog training seminar, or so she said, on Saturday and Sunday. It would keep her from going out with us.
Last week I'd been alone, this week I was alone plus one. Adam was taking care of dog duties while she was away, he was working much harder than I did the week before since we had a few client dogs in. Rotations were nearly constant.
I decided to reward his efforts and hard work by letting him choose where to go. "Anywhere at all, even if you think or know that I won't like it."
This did not have the desired effect, he stressed about it.
I didn't.  I sucked in my personal preferences, likes and dislikes and prepared myself for what I assumed would be Taco Bell.
Angel and Adam go there sometimes when I'm at work. They know I can't stand it. That was okay, I told him, I would be objective while I gagged and spat afterwards, if that is where he wanted to go.
He surprised me. I arose from a well deserved afternoon nap and asked him to declare.
"Taytro's" he said.  I don't know why it surprised me but it did. In fact it sounded pretty good.
The Place:
They opened a year or two or three ago and we've been a handful of times. They do New Orleans primarily, gumbo, jambalaya, po' boys. They throw down a pretty good steak as well.
It's on the hill above the intersection of A and 61/67, in a newer, small strip mall. It has a well stocked bar and a small section in the back corner for the frequent live music. It's popularity has grown quite well since opening, it was busy when we got there.
As the day was gorgeous, there were people sitting out on the patio (sidewalk) at umbrella topped tables sipping buckets of beer.
One table held five or six skirted young women dressed to the nines in light, short spring dresses for partying and or dancing. There were no men with them, they were ripe for the picking. Lucky for them Adam and I are both terribly shy or we'd have been all over that action. We'd show them a party like they had never seen, if only we weren't so bashful, and faithful.
We went straight in, passing them by, flirtatiously staring at our own feet all the way in. They were lucky.
Inside, the tables were nearly filled as well. Busy, bustling.
We were shown a middle table and were seated and handed the simple two sided menu. I asked for tea, Adam asked for Coke/Pepsi. Overhead a raspy old timer was belting out some soulful delta blues.
The Food:
It didn't take me long to choose, any chance for a good po' boy and I'm in. I had my first two or three po' boys in New Orleans a decade or so back. I'm pretty sure I know a good one when I come across it. Simplicity is the key. There's nothing fancy about a po' boy, at all. Shredded lettuce, optional cheese and tomato, then shrimp or fish on a good roll. Taytro's tops theirs with a spicy mayo of their own design. It's not overpowering. I asked for fries with that.
Adam ordered the pulled pork and house-made chips. An excellent choice as well.
We sat and sipped, watched the people come and go, and really put ourselves out there on the edge by deliberately not making eye contact with the ladies outside. This always drives the babes crazy. To be completely ignored is the ultimate mating call. We were at the top of our game, they didn't stand a chance. One of the gals even walked by our table to get to the bar. In a bold and disarmingly charming way Adam and I stared at the overhead TV.
She left the bar went back to her friends and though I couldn't hear what she was saying I assume she was talking about those two fetching men inside that had laid on all the right moves. It was enough to scare them away. They all piled into a SUV and drove away. I smiled and nodded, proud and confident after yet another conquest.
The food came after a while, piping hot. The shrimp was fat and lightly spicy, the fries seasoned just right. Adam shared a pull off his pork, it was smoky and not too sweet.
I cut my sandwich in half, I was going to box it up and save it for Sunday lunch. Adam finished his completely and without complaint. "Pretty good" he summarized.
Overhead the TV's were playing a gal's softball game. We made fun of it as a fake sport, soft ball, girls, not like a real sport at all. We were guys, out for the evening, watching sports. We laughed at the underhand pitches, which privately impressed me. We both knew that if somehow confronted with a fist fight between us and any two of those soft-ballers, we'd loose, quickly. Neither of us should make fun of any athlete at any level, of any gender. We're wired for cerebral, not physical challenges, on a real physical obstacle course we'd be best suited to be minor obstacles rather than capable challengers.
Summary:
Taytro's is a winner by any measure. It's a bustling, busy place with great food and a professional and friendly staff. I'm willing to go there just about any time, I know I'll get good food. The price isn't bad either, our bill came to nineteen and a half bucks, which paid for enough food to easily fill us up. Even the tea was fresh and bright.
Taytro's has picked up quite a following and its popularity is well deserved. They are certainly a step or twelve  above the fast food places. They don't offer a thousand choices but they know what they are good at  and deliver it time after time.
Adam and I headed back home, we didn't talk much, we didn't have to, we're dudes.

Completely Sauced

On Facebook

I finally caved to considerable pressure. Pressure from my lovely wife Angel, and oddly enough, my boss, who I will refer to as ‘Larry’.

A few months back fliers started showing up on the doors at work for food trucks. About once per week a different rolling kitchen would park in front of our office complex and serve out meals. The fliers usually listed the limited menu as well as the prices. One of the trucks I’d recognized as being a competitor on Food Network’s “Food Truck Wars” a show I was quite fond of.  It was a competition between modern, upscale food trucks. They’d load up, drive across the country and see who could make the most money in two or three days in cities unfamiliar to them. Each week one truck would get eliminated and would be sent home.
That was my first real schooling on this new wave of food truckery. My only previous experiences with rolling food vendors were the old 'roach coaches', mostly loud, greasy rattletraps serving out nasty burgers, stale sandwiches and dubious tacos. They also served horrific, burnt and probably slightly dieseled coffee. In other words I had no romantic notions of food trucks. This show altered my perspective. Clean, fresh ingredients, upscale offerings, reasonably priced.

I mentioned the fliers to Angel one night, she asked if I was going to try them and perhaps review them. I said I would, but I kept forgetting about them on the days they were there. Though I go outside everyday at lunchtime, I’m not usually thinking of food. Also the trucks tend to park in front of the main building, not our leased annex to the side, so I wouldn’t casually see them and suddenly remember.

"So what do you do at lunch if you're not thinking about food when you go out?” you’re asking. I can hear it.

I go to the gym and work out, lift weights, treadmill a bit.. then punch the heavy bag for a while. In my mind anyhow. Actually I go to my car and read. I am exercising, just a different organ. In my car I keep a stash of cheese nabs* and little boxes of raisins. That’s lunch. I don’t have to think about food at lunchtime since the car’s already loaded with enough to get me by.

“You sit alone in your car for an hour, read and wolf down cheap snacks?”

Yeah I do. I’m an asocial introvert (socially diseased?) and an avid  reader, you should know this already.

Anyway, Larry asked me about the food trucks a few weeks ago, if I've ever reviewed them. I answered no, I keep forgetting. I knew that he was aware of my blog though this was the first time I recall him ever mentioning it. We're professionals, we try to keep our work and our enjoyable pursuits completely separate.

He mentioned it a couple more times over the next few weeks, same answer.

Then on Wednesday he tasked me. He tells me about the one coming in on Thursday and practically insists that I try it and write it up. I say okay, insisting that he and  Doug, also in earshot, go along and offer their opinions.

Larry, to my surprise says “Okay.” Then I offer the disclaimer.

“This will happen on our free, non-billable, personal time. Anything I write up, or anything we say will be considered social, not professional. Any mammal I may compare you to in my written review reflects my observations of you as a private person, not a professional or co-worker.”

He looked confused. Doug piped up. “I’m a star-nosed mole!” which apparently required more explanation. “The fastest eating mammal in the world!” He added, extending two, large, mole-like thumbs-up.  Larry looked at me. “From the time a star nosed mole comes in contact with an object till he decides it is edible and is actually consuming it is around 150 milliseconds. Doug eats just about as fast, it’s kind of disgusting, but also rather fascinating.” I explain.
Doug isn’t ashamed or upset by this.

The Place.

It’s a food truck, in our parking lot. Professionally painted, in rather good shape. 'Completely Sauced' has been rolling for just a few months, since April I believe. I don’t know for sure where the name comes from and in my humble (but usually correct) opinion, it doesn't really reflect the truck’s menu which boasts mostly Cajun/Creole fare. Maybe there’s a culinary connection I’m just not aware of. When I think of Cajun/Creole I tend to think of spices, not sauces. Maybe I’m missing something.

There were, as best as I could tell, two people in the truck, one large, fetching woman at the window and a garrulous, energetic young man assembling the food. Both seemed to know what they were doing and were quick, attentive, upbeat and professional. No complaints whatsoever with the personnel. From the middle of the line I flashed my magic debit card as if to ask if they would take it. She caught the subtle gesture and nodded, without skipping a beat as she was taking another person’s order.

There was a sandwich board on the ground in front of the truck. Doug, Larry and I studied our options.

The Food.

Red beans and rice

My strikingly handsome, highly intelligent boss ordered the red beans and rice. A bit bland I thought, but he’s much smarter and better looking than me**  so I didn't openly question his choice. Doug ordered the jambalaya. These items were dipped up out of a warming vat and served almost immediately. Doug added Tabasco sauce before he even tasted it. Doug, besides eating really, really fast also hot-sauces up nearly everything he eats. I imagine that he’s in a constant state of searing acid reflux, which would help explain his occasionally-volatile temperament.
My order, a shrimp po’ boy, house-style, dressed with remoulade and slaw, (referred to on the menu as an 'Oxymoron' (Jumbo-shrimp, get it?) would take a few minutes I was told, since they don’t pre-cook the shrimp. This impressed me. The old roach coaches would precook everything, sometimes several weeks in advance. The wait was not terribly long, I snapped photos of Doug and Larry’s food while I waited. I had to get to Doug’s plate pretty quickly.  I think I might actually need a faster camera, one of those high speed jobs that you can photograph a bullet in mid flight with. Doug eats fast.

Jambalaya

They called my order, we headed back to the office as there was no seating anywhere near the truck.

I found an empty cubicle and sat my plate down. Larry and Doug had been sampling theirs, Doug’s was all gone before we even got inside the building. His face was red and sweaty from the spicy heat.

I sat at the cube and Larry hovered over me.

I examined the sandwich. Red and green cabbage in the simple slaw, a dollop of sauce, just a dollop, and five grilled jumbo shrimp. The bread was very pretty. Fresh, crunchy crust, soft, fluffy and snow white on the inside. The shrimp was spiced, at first I thought a bit too heavily, but it turned out to be pretty good. It made me sweat a little, but not enough to cause pain or abdominal discomfort. The slaw was not strong, frankly, it might as well have just been shredded cabbage. It may have had flavor, but if it did it was stifled by the shrimp spice and the remoulade.  It wasn’t bad at all, just lacked its own distinct personality. It didn’t make the sandwich less tasty though. The bed of potato chips underneath was fine, nothing fancy.

Shrimp po' boy

Larry had said he didn’t like spicy food very much, and his choice bore that out. Red beans and rice are neither very strong by themselves in any way, you have to add heavy spices to make them tasty at all. He said that the beans were indeed a bit bland, not a rousing compliment from someone who openly claims to not like spicy food.

Doug says his was pretty spicy, but not too much, and that even with the additional Tabasco sauce it wasn’t too hot for him. I actually think Doug has a culinary death wish.

Overall, Larry didn’t seem terribly impressed,  I’m quite familiar with him being not terribly impressed, I’ve worked for him for three years. I asked him if given the choice between this meal and a fast-food burger which he would choose. “It depends on which fast food burger we’re talking about.”  Ouch.

Doug claimed to be pleased and even considered stepping out and grabbing a po’ boy like mine.  I don’t recall if he actually did or not, I might not have seen it anyhow since I blinked.

Summary:

I was quite happy with my sandwich. The price was good, eight bucks. The Jambalaya and red beans were only seven. I would certainly rather have that po’ boy than any fast-food burger. The food was good, the price was reasonable, the service, exceptional.
Recommended!

_____________________

* Cheese nabs. It's a southern term. Snack crackers, usually bright orange in color, filled with peanut butter or fake cheese. You know what I'm talking about.

** Yes you are correct, this is absolutely and un-apologetically, gratuitous sucking up. My boss will probably read this, but he's used to it.

Taytro’s Bar and Bistro

343 N Creek Dr.

 Festus, Mo.

http://taytros.com/

My turn to choose. My original thought, Bob Evans’ was universally frowned upon. I gave it some more skull-time and realized that we’d not been to Taytro’s in quite a while. It was pretty new when we first went, enough time had passed to see if they’d managed to keep up the good work or if they’d spiraled into decline.

The Place:

On a hill next to an ATT store and a couple of other ubiquitous strip mall shops, Taytro’s parking lot allocation was less than half full, this wasn’t an indicator of anything other than that we dine earlier than most people. We were seated immediately at a table next to the door. The place hadn’t changed much at all. Bright, festive red walls, lots of Mardi Gras gewgaws and artwork. The overhead chalkboard exclaimed something I already knew, that Ed Null would be performing live later that evening. I don’t know Mr. Null personally, but I am familiar with some of his likely ancestors, there’s quite a few Nulls populating the local cemeteries.

 When I’ was checking my Facebook earlier in the day (Taytro’s has a page there) it had announced that the evening’s special would be Tilapia and rice, and that Mr. Null would be performing at seven. It was only a little past five when we arrived, we wouldn’t last that long, we’re not lingerers.

There were only a dozen or so people in the joint, a couple of mid-sized, mid-aged women sat at the bar. Both hosted tattoos, one on her lower back (you know the kind), the other with one on either shoulder. I made out one of the two fading tattoos peeking out from her tank top as a panther, the other was either a crying clown, the scarecrow from ‘The Wizard of Oz’, or maybe Kurt Cobain. It was hard to be sure as the black ink was thick and a little smeary, or maybe the ‘canvas’ had shifted a bit since the art was first put there. I asked Adam to turn around discretely and verify, but he couldn’t quite tell either. Angel just told me to stop staring at the women at the bar. This didn’t faze me much since she simply refuses to get a tattoo herself and therefore apparently doesn’t want me to stare at her instead. Her loss.

We were handed menus, laminated this time (plain paper copies on our previous visits). They were not complicated, Taytro’s limits itself to a small selection.

I asked the waitress if they served beer, she looked at me a little funny, I guess because I was sitting facing the bar, but instead of calling me an idiot, she just launched into a recital of those they carried on tap. I almost stopped her at Sam Adams Amber Ale, but waited until finished the list with ‘Blue Moon’. I’d had that brand before, though I couldn’t recall when and where, but the wispy memory did hint that I’d liked it.

She added: “Good choice, I like mine with lemon!”

“That’s really peculiar” I answered, thinking that was the exact response she would like. It wasn’t. Apparently in some circles it is perfectly kosher to squeeze lemon into beer, who knew?

All for naught though, she returned in just a couple of minutes to tell me they were out of Blue Moon. I settled for the Sam Adams. Angel and Adam got tea and Coke respectively, no lemon.

The Food:

There were several great sounding options. I really, really wanted another Po’ Boy, but I’d already critiqued those and felt an obligation to you, my loyal fans, to try something else.

‘Smothered Catfish’ with rice and crawfish sauce. Oh baby, sauced crawdads!!

Angel Asked for the ‘Shrimpalaya’ A shrimp laden jambalaya dish.

Adam went for the house burger, no tomato, of course, with fries, no cheese.

We also asked for an appetizer, the fried (toasted) Ravioli, it’s a St. Louis thing.

As we waited we tuned into the provided music, at first it was Cajun style, but progressed (or regressed) to other fare including a tune by Led Zeppelin that caused Angel to hark back to her teen years. She talks little of those times, though I recall sparse stories of candles, dark poetry, Goth-like loner behavior, if not actual ritual sacrifice and blood letting. I don’t know the all the details.

As we reminisced the small, young hostess with no observable tattoos stood on one of the barstools and updated the ‘Specials’ with a steady hand and a discerning eye for pastel chalks. I recalled that she was the same girl I once compared to Kirsten Dunst, but in a good way. Dunst is cute (it’s the eyes), but her choice of movies to star in is simply awful.

The ravioli arrived with a small bowl of red dipping sauce. We dug in, each of us quietly screaming as the fried pasta released its scorching meaty innards into our mouths. It was quite good though, once it cooled down to a mere three or four hundred degrees, crispy and thick.

The salads came, simple greens topped with their delightful, sweet poppy seed dressing. Just a small bowl, not enough to fill anyone.

The main courses arrived just as were ready to nod off. The only thing on the large TV above the bar was a golf match of some kind. The only thing in this hemisphere duller than the game of golf itself is watching golf on TV.

The entrées arrived, steamy and appetizing. Taytro’s pays attention to plating, feeding the eye before the palate. My large filet rested alongside a mound of rice, it was all slathered in thick, chunks of crawfish in a creamy, light-brown sauce. Angel’s meal looked enormous, big blackened shrimp alongside more traditional sausage, chicken, celery, onion, bell pepper, etc. all Cajun-spiced and coupled with rice. She dug in, as did I. Hers came with three slices of grilled toast, mine with only one. I was jealous.

The spiciness of Taytro’s offerings is about as perfect as I can recall ever having. The taste is indeed spicy, but in a good way. The heat was not overpowering but it did build up. A full course will send you into a mild sweat and clear your sinuses, but not immediately. The heat does not at all steal the show from the food itself. “Loving it!” Angel remarked, adding: “Need more tea!”

Neither of us were able to finish our ample portions. We tried, but it just wouldn’t all fit.

Summary:

The bill came in at just over fifty bucks. Fifty bucks at ‘TGI Friday’s’ is a rip-off, at Taytro’s it’s a bargain.

 We were completely full but actually wanting more. The food at Taytro’s is absolutely first rate. The fact that they don’t try to cook/offer everything under the sun probably helps. They concentrate, quite successfully, on making a few things and making them very, very well. The staff was dutiful, attentive and responsive. There were no fights, spillage or disgusting incidents. The place was clean, well tended and family friendly. We simply love this place. I highly recommend it, even if you don’t have exposed tattoos that I can stare at.