Lorenzo's Italian Kitchen

106 Main St.
DeSoto, Mo
On Facebook

April 18, 2013: DESOTO, MO. (KTVI) – No one in De Soto recalls a flash flood like the one that hit on Thursday.  The city’s fire chief estimates water rose 5 to 6 feet in a matter of 20 to 30 minutes.
An 80-year-old woman died when rising waters swept her car away.  Her body was found inside her car after the waters receded.
First responders made more than a dozen water rescues as heavy rain flooded the Joachim Creek.
The city believes 125 homes were damaged east of the Creek.  Power was shut off to the entire city on Thursday as a precaution to keep first responders safe.

So a little over a week ago the meandering Joachim* Creek stormed over its banks and meted out considerable carnage. The creek defines much of DeSoto's layout and history. There is a very nice park above its banks and small bridges cross over it in several places. It has flooded before, most notably in the 30's and 40's, but this flash and crash was faster and mightier than any such breach the natives could recall.
DeSoto is miles form the big rivers and not routinely accustomed to this force of nature.
As we drove through lower DeSoto a week and half after the flooding, we could still easily make out the wrath of the raging waters. Carpeting, furniture and other ruined materials were piled up in several yards. the pristine park had fences down, walkways undercut and washed away, some climb-on playground equipment crumpled and broken. In many places it looked scorched like a giant power washer had hosed the place down.
Desoto is not a river town. The Joachim is not a navigable waterway. DeSoto is a railroad town, it has been for over a hundred years. Main Street abuts the rails at the lowest altitude of the town. Behind Main Street the neighborhoods and churches climb a steep hill, terraced with small streets. Most of the town is completely safe from anything the creek can possibly muster. Across the tracks though lies the creek, normally a few feet below the banks along those neighborhoods.
DeSoto is a decent sized town, though hardly a city. People know each other and several generations of families have remained rooted there.
The Place:
Along Main Street are the quaint, old storefronts. Aging brick facades fronting restaurants, a single-screen cinema, a bar or two, several flea markets, a few furniture and appliance stores. The street is well maintained and kept modern for safety, yet antique in style. Cobblestone walkways and crosswalks, old style street lamps, trees planted in carved-out spaces on the sidewalk.
It is along this idyllic street that you will find Lorenzo's Italian Kitchen. A small place, about a dozen tables and booths. Inside it is dark and cozy and the aroma is heavenly. Dark carpet, black tables and booths, dark brown wainscoting, the back walls light yellow the sides and front a dark, comfortable rust-red.
A few oil paintings and other objets d'art were scattered sparsely around the dining room. A hostess's podium centered in front of the door. In the back, a large counter separates the diners from the kitchen. The counter was, on this day, covered with gift baskets and various boxes of donated items.
The owners of Lorenzo's were taking up donations, holding raffles and splitting the day's pizza proceeds to raise money for flood damage relief.
I'd read about this on Facebook earlier. They had received lots of odds and ends donated from other local businesses and were an ad hoc collection point for the effort. A noble and kind example of business as good neighbor.
We sat in our booth, ordered tea, sweet tea and a Coke.
The Food:

Fried Cannelloni

Although Lorenzo's serves pasta, many kinds, we were all in the mood for pizza. For $6.25 you can design your own 9 inch pie with a choice of sauces, traditional, barbeque or garlic butter, a choice of cheeses and up to six toppings. The dough is house-made Neapolitan style. For an appetizer we shared fried cannelloni. This is a thumb-your-nose at a  popular St. Louis treat. The big city brags about its breaded and fried ravioli as if it were a discovery on par with hamburgers or ice cream or a cure for cancer. Actually it is pretty good. It's jusy ravioli, breaded and fried then dipped in a red sauce. Crunchy, meaty, a great appetizer. Lorenzo's steps it up a notch by using cannelloni, a large pasta tube filled with about twice as much filling as a ravioli can hold. It tastes pretty much the same, just the filling to pasta ratio is greater. For dipping they offered up their own house made marinara, sweet and herb-y. The sausage in the filling was house-made as well, rich and spicy.
It took us a few minutes to finalize our pizza designs. I had a list in my head then noticed that they offered one called a Deluxe that was pretty much the same as what I'd constructed on my own. So that's what I ordered. Traditional sauce, mozzarella cheese, hamburger, sausage, pepperoni, peppers, onions and mushrooms.
Angel went way in the other direction.She chose provel, that St. Louis favorite cheese blend, garlic butter sauce, onion, spinach, artichoke garlic and bacon. I shuddered, she ignored me. It was like she'd never actually had a real pizza before.

Angel's

Adam went basic and simple. Traditional sauce, mozzarella cheese, pepperoni, black olives and bacon.
We were offered salads but refused. This was no time to be thinking about nutrition, we were after rich, heavy pizza.
People came and went, some sat down and studied the menus, others dropped in to pick up a raffle prize. Everyone seemed to know each other or at least knew someone the other person knew. I saw a couple of gift baskets go out, a box containing a shop light and stand. Pictures were taken to be posted later on Lorenzo's Facebook page.
You have to wait a bit for custom made pizzas, but the place was lively, friendly and busy enough that the wait didn't seem long at all.

Mine, the 'Deluxe'

The pizzas arrived. They looked bigger than nine inches. The crust was toasty, and was neither cracker thin nor Chicago thick. The pies were topped very well, not leaving too much bare crust at the edges. The ingredients looked fresh, the aroma was, as I said earlier, heavenly. They were also insanely hot. Cut into quarters there were gooey bridges of cheese that would not let go of the adjacent slice. I knew better than to bite right in, I let it cool for a minute or two. The four slices all looked too big to me so I cut a couple of them in half again. Even after the cutting and the waiting the cheese seared my tongue and clung to it like napalm, tasty, rich and creamy smooth napalm.
There wasn't a lot of discussion between us as we dived in. This was serious feasting. We ate like famished laborers.

Adam's minimalist pie

The cheese was rich and velvety, not your industrial mozzarella. The sauce was sweet and herb-y, with a taste that had to be house made, this was definitely not Ragu. Sure enough the peppers and onions still had bite to them, the sausage was spicy and even the pepperoni tasted better than one finds in a typical pizza.
Adam and Angel each finished three of their four slices, I only managed two. I've been working on my lousy eating habits, trying to stop eating when sated rather than until the plate is empty. There would be boxes though, and Sunday brunch.

 
Summary:
I asked the table what they thouught. "Very good." was the typical answer. To put a scale to it I asked a follow up question. "Better than Pizza Hut?"
We like Pizza Hut just fine. I've never had any complaints about the chain. Of all the pizza chains it is our favorite.
We're known to have the occasional frozen pizza, usually the less than cheapest ones, and they are fine for what they are. When we want a decent pizza we got to Pizza Hut.
When I asked this question though Adam's  answer was "That's not fair."
What he meant was that there was simply no comparison, they are not in the same class. It's like comparing Mom's apple pie with those frozen, industrial pocket-pies sold at fast food chains. It's simply not comparable.
The price is amazing. A full, generous nine inch pie, custom made to order with up to six toppings for $6.25. Roughly the price of a burger and fries at the fast food chains.
What you get is a tasty, rich and completely filling portion of house-made food and deep, fresh flavors. The entire bill came to thirty two dollars and change, much less than a meal at Ruby Tuesday's. Price-wise more in line with a fast food meal.
The ambiance and staff were relaxed, friendly and inviting. The fact that Lorenzo's directly invests back into the town is a not-too-small bonus. I have absolutely nothing negative to say about the food or the experience. If anything I want to extend my thanks to a place that not only respects their food, but also their customers and community as well.



* Joachim: Contracted form of JEHOIACHIN or JEHOIAKIM. According to the apocryphal Gospel of James, Saint Joachim was the husband of Saint Anne and the father of the Virgin Mary. Due to his popularity in the Middle Ages, the name came into general use in Christian Europe (though it was never common in England).  (http://www.behindthename.com/name/joachim)

Good luck pronouncing it. It is a common name  in several languages but pronounced differently in all of them.
I called Faye Adams, a fellow writer, though only of poetry, and more importantly for this discussion a long-time member of the DeSoto Historical Society. I asked her to pronounce the name of the creek that recently flooded. Without pause she said 'Joe-ACK-um.' She added that this was the way she'd always heard it pronounced but was unsure if it was actually correct. I told her what I'd found out that various languages pronounce it variously and that whatever the locals here said was as correct as any other version. Thanks Faye, for the assist.

Fountain City Grille

At the Arlington
DeSoto, Mo.
On Facebook

The Place:
'Fountain City' is a nickname for DeSoto. It is called that due to the large number of artesian wells in the area, the water from which was shipped to the famous 1904 World's Fair in St. Louis. The Fountain City Grille is located in the landmark Arlington Hotel alongside the railroad tracks. The Hotel was built in the 1860's and has a storied history itself. It is  now a bed and breakfast (without the breakfast, so I am told.)
In June of this year the Fountain City Grille opened. Freshly redecorated and up-scaled, the idea was to be something a cut above local fast-food and pizzeria fare. 
The old hotel, with it's expansive first floor and high ceilings are a welcome break from modern, cookie cutter construction and utilitarian design. The dining area is surprisingly classy with flat black walls and bright white trim. Were the ceilings low, and the trim thin, this would be more like a darkroom. But with the century-old heavy trim and high ceiling this actually works very nicely. A few nice, but not gaudy chandeliers provide just enough light.
The tables were covered in white, plastic covered cloth and topped with small black votive lanterns. The staff uniforms as well picked up on the black and white decor. On the walls along with some black acoustic dampeners were poster sized B&W photos of various fountains in the city.  Artesian wells are positive pressure, meaning the water is under pressure in the ground, so to make a fountain one need not use a pump, just let the natural pressure make the water flow. A local photographer, Matt O'Harver, took the excellent pictures and enlarged them for the Grille.
The entrance is a long hallway, decorated tastefully with large, elaborate vintage furnishings.
Mary, the delightful hostesss showed us to a table and introduced our server. You'll hear more about Mary later.

The Food:
The menu was simple and straight forward. A few well defined entrees, a small selection of appetizers, and a wine list on the back. Selection was difficult, most of it looked pretty appetizing. I had no idea going in what they served, so my mind was pretty open. We ordered our drinks, tea, unsweetened with lemon, Dr. Pepper for Angel and Pepsi for Adam. The drinks and basket of rolls arrived almost immediately.  The rolls were small and firm, but not very warm. Fortunately the butter wasn't frozen, so it spread nicely anyhow.
We started with an appetizer, the ubiquitous St. Louis area specialty, fried ravioli. Adam got most of those because Angel and I ordered big food.
Me: 8 Oz Sirloin, baked potato and corn.
Angel: Haddock with shrimp etouffee, baked potato and asparagus (gag, spit).
Adam: Buffalo chicken strips and steak fries.
Angel took the soup, cream of mushroom, I opted for the salad, with the sweet vinaigrette.
Now here's the  first home run for the restaurant's service. The salad and soup were delivered in just a couple of minutes after our order was taken. This is the way it should be. Salads and soups are made in batch ahead of time and occupy a diner while the main courses are prepared. There's no reason to wait ten or fifteen minutes for simple soups and salads. Angel said the soup was a little unremarkable, indistinguishable from canned, but that's not a condemnation in itself, Angel eats a lot of canned soup.
Second point, the main courses arrived shortly after the soup and salad were finished, just a scant few minutes of foodlessness was all there was. The management of this place should stand as a model for other upscale dining establishments, the timing of all the courses was dead-on perfect.

8 Oz Sirloin

Between the soup/salad and the main course, Mary rushed by between duties of setting out silverware and greeting guests. The guest greeting was made complicated because people kept coming in the side door. I'd almost done the same thing but noticed a small sign on it saying this was the handicapped entrance. (Maybe a bigger sign is needed?) On one of the trips through the dining area Mary dropped something, a salt shaker maybe, it hit the hardwood floor and the sound was louder than the surrounding din. When she bent to pick it up something else slipped from her grip, repeating the thud and causing Mary to do an acrobatic double bend and catch. She apologized to us, I told her it wan't a problem and that I had assumed this was the evening's floor show, quite entertaining. She'd already chatted with us a little earlier as she'd stepped in front of my 'waiting for the flash to fire' camera was trying to catch a picture of the room.

Haddock and shrimp etouffee

She also told us about the photos of the fountains and added that she was the grandmother of the restaurant's owners. A sweet lady indeed, probably overworked and underpaid. Her grand-kids should probably pitch in a little more for her efforts.
In pretty good time the entrees arrived. Simple, clean plating, no frills or superfluous garnish, just good looking food.
The potato was cut open and a dollop of butter was starting to melt inside it, Angel said her butter was still a little frozen, not a gross violation since the potato was still pretty hot. She'd asked for some sour cream, and it arrived in a clear plastic ramekin. We shared it, making the potato perfect.
My steak sliced open to perfect done-ness, medium rare. It gave up some juices which I used as a gravy for the corn and potato. Mmmmm. The steak was more firm than some I've had recently, it held up to the slicing without going mushy. The char on it was perfect, and the seasoning was there, but not overpowering.
The corn was fresh and sweet, not canned.

Buffalo chicken strips

There were no surprises or disappointments on our plates, we ate quietly and at our usual brisk pace. It was during this time that  I really noticed the music. It was all piano-based coming from speakers at the back of the dining area. Something bugged me about it. Floyd Cramer? No I don't think so, but like that. All the tunes were 70's and earlier pop music making it sound, well, I'll be honest, a little cheap. Like a compilation CD that you might  find in discount bins of a drug store. If I could make a recommendation on this note, I'd say go for something a little more classical.
Almost all the way through her fish Angel noted that it was indeed spicy but the thick breading was starting to come off as too salty. She finished it anyhow.
Adam's food disappeared pretty quick, without complaint. "It was good." was all I actually got from him though.
We thought about dessert, but when the waitress told us there was only one piece of cheesecake left, we decided to forgo the fight for it. With the three of us and only one slice of cheesecake, the 'sharing' would more resemble vicious and bloody mob carnage. Had they had more than one piece there would definitely been an order for each of us and perhaps a couple of cups of coffee. I'm just sayin'.
Summary:

Mary, stepping out the front door.

The bill came to fifty three dollars and change. This is no fast food franchise. Locally it's more on par with Munzert's in Hillsboro or Bistro at the Square, north of DeSoto. It's a nice, but not-quite-formal dining experience. The setting and decor in the old Arlington adds significant value to the experience. If I could make a few suggestions, not as an expert in the business, but as an active observer, I'd say change the music, mark the doors better, back off on the salt in the fish breading, pay close attention to the quality of the ingredients in the food, use fresh only or not at all. Most importantly, step up the web presence. Word of mouth is great, but it is only responsible for about half the new customers. They have a Facebook site, but the pictures of the food offerings are not very good, and there is no online menu. Yes the building is lovely, and the decor is excellent, but when it gets right down to it, it's the food. An online menu will help potential  browsers determine what kind of place it is. Also, entries in the many restaurant search sites, Yelp, Google, Yahoo, Urbanspoon*, etc. will steer a few more people toward the restaurant. An absence of a presence in these guides cannot help the business.
And last but not least, pay Mary more. She was an absolute delight and worth a million bucks in goodwill and friendliness. She made us feel like valued customers. She even wanted my opinion of the steak, since she can't eat steak but heard that it was supposed to be the place's specialty.
Seriously though, Fountain City Grille is rather new, open only since June, which means that they are still learning the business and making their spot on the culinary map. Even as it is now it is a fine place to eat, great atmosphere, excellent food, and a cozy, comfortable experience. If it can keep it's goals in focus, concentrate on the food, it can't help but be a success.

________________

* I've taken care of creating a presence on Urbanspoon, I've got a good relationship with that group, as you might have noticed.

Domino's Pizza

Domino’s Pizza

2128 Rock Rd.
Desoto, MO

http://www.dominos.com/

First: Why you shouldn’t always trust Wikipedia:

***

 

  We decided on this earlier in the week. There was a commercial on TV and we talked about how long it had been since any of us had a Domino’s Pizza.

I suggested that we give the place a best-shot test.

Rather than just order a couple of compromise pizzas as we usually do, I suggested, insisted that we would each order a pizza for ourselves.

A compromise pizza is when I agree to have whatever Angel wants rather than be picky about my own quaint, irrelevant, superfluous, personal preferences.

Angel likes lots of toppings on a thin crust.

Adam only likes a couple of toppings on a standard crust.

I like lots of toppings on a standard crust.

So the compromise is that we usually order Angel’s preference and Adam’s preference and I have some of each. I wanted my own pizza for this test.

The Place:

Located on Rock Road in Desoto, just a literal stone’s throw from Pizza Hut. Unlike PH, Domino’s does not have a dining area, it’s strictly a delivery/takeout place. We’ve never dined in at PH, but we have picked up pizzas there several times. Why we never thought to pick up at Domino’s is simply a mystery. The fact that they pretty much share the same parking lot plays a big role in our overall evaluation.

We are not in the delivery area, so pickup is the only option. We chose to live rural, so we do not begrudge the lack of delivery.

The Food:

Angel: A ‘Deluxe’ a thin crust with sausage, pepperoni, bell peppers, onions, mushrooms, olives.

Adam: A three-topping ‘hand-tossed’ with pepperoni, bacon and olives.

Me: A Deluxe, hand-tossed, minus the mushrooms, added roasted red peppers and fetta cheese.

Mine

I like mushrooms okay, just not a lot of them. I had recently ordered a burger at Hardee's, and thought I’d ordered the single-best fast food burger in existence, the Frisco Thickburger. But I ordered a #3 combo instead of a # 5 and got the mushroom Swiss. They put too many mushrooms on the things, it’s pretty much all you can taste. SO I wasn’t in the mood for more mushrooms.

Angel called in the order, adding some cheesy bread sticks.  She has a nice, sultry phone voice and usually gets treated well on the phone. I on the other hand am told I come across as arrogant, angry, rude or dismissive, and get hung up on a lot. We complement each other well this way. She ordered, I delivered.  She was told our order would be ready in fifteen to twenty minutes, roughly the time it takes to get there from our compound.

On the way to Desoto I stopped at Queen’s, the grocery store in Hillsboro, to pick up some drinks. Angel wanted Diet Dr. Pepper, Adam wanted Pepsi. I scanned the aisles and saw RC Cola, which is my own preference, but compromised by splitting the Pepsi with Adam, I didn’t want very much. I also picked up a box of wine since we were running about a quart low at the house.

Adam's

When I turned onto Rock Road I saw Domino’s, but it was so close to the corner that I had to pass it and pull in to the Pizza Hut parking lot and double back down the lot.

I walked in, the place was nothing but a counter in front of a pizza kitchen. Several assembly stations, bins of toppings, stacked ovens in the back, piles of pizza boxes everywhere. The place was packed floor to ceiling, like a submarine preparing to leave port.

Our order was ready, I paid up, took the boxes, set them in the front passenger seat of my disappointing and unimpressive chevy coupe. (Sounds better than ‘Cavalier’) The drive back to the house was heavenly. The aroma of pizza and the lilting voice of Emmylou Harris (she was the guest on Prairie Home Companion) and the fair weather made it not unpleasant at all.

I harked back. I’ve delivered pizzas professionally. In Rantoul Illinois back in the late 70’s, I was stationed at the now-closed Chanute AFB for a few months for training. We needed $450 cash to pay the court costs to adopt my beautiful and beloved daughter Leslye. My military pay kept us clothed, fed and housed, but $450 cash was quite a tall order. I only attended class till the early afternoon so I had plenty of time to take on a part time job at ‘Garcia’s Pizza in a Pan’

They needed drivers,  I fit the bill very well. Not only was I over 21, which meant I could serve beer inside the restaurant, unlike the High-school aged drivers, but I also had a car with the proper stickers to get me onto the base without having to stop at the gate and get a pass.

So for three bitterly cold and windy months, November-January, I delivered pizzas in my ’75 ‘Lemon Yellow’ Pinto Station Wagon. I delivered just long enough to raise the cash. The aroma of warm pizza in the car would last two more years. Not such a bad thing, and this is what I was harking back to.

Angel's

As for the other time I delivered pizzas, I’ll not speak of that time here. Suffice it to say that the memories and reasons were not as sweet and pleasant as the Rantoul affair.

So we laid the boxes out side by side. Angel and Adam stood by impatiently as I photographed them, with my good camera. Then the carnage began in earnest. I don’t care for cheesy bread , so I passed on that. I poured myself some Pepsi and yanked out two slices of my own pie. I grabbed the bag of generic potato chips, since I like a crunch to accompany pizza.

It was quiet for a while, I was reading Michael Connelly’s ‘The Fifth Witness’ (Highly recommended!) while Angel and Adam sat in the living room and ate while watching Sponge Bob or something equally awful. It’s how we dine.

After we ate I polled the family for their thoughts. Something immediately became clear, there would be no bubbly positive review. I heard the words ‘bland’ and missing something’. Adam mentioned ‘garlic-y’ but followed up by saying ‘not in a bad way’, meaning that the taste of garlic was what he tasted most, but he wasn't sickened by it.

Angel was puzzled, trying to figure out what was missing from hers. She finally hit upon it. “The sauce, I didn’t taste any sauce.”

Cheesy Bread

And that was it. Upon that revelation, we all agreed there was no slightly sweet, slightly bright acidic bite to the pies. They all appeared to have sauce on them, but whatever was there did not stand out as a separate taste sensation.
  Oddly enough Angel and Adam also mentioned that they were quite happy with the cheesy bread, which is essentially pizza without the sauce. Hmmm.
Once the criticism session started, I re-checked my pie and noticed something else I had suspected when I was eating. Look at the pictures. The toppings were very poorly distributed. On each one of them were clumps/clusters of toppings rather than an even spread. This is especially noticeable with the olives, but was true with the peppers as well.

We agreed that we’d all had worse pizzas, and in fact these were not really too bad, just missing something.

Summary:

And that something is the rub. Sure it was a relatively minor thing. For the most part, the crust, the toppings were all fresh and tasty and cooked perfectly.

A couple of years back Domino’s announced, after actually admitting lackluster product, that they were going to rebuild their pizzas from the ground up. Sauce, crust, quality of toppings. In our opinion they were only partially successful. The toppings, like I said, were fresh and tasty, but the sauce pretty much disappeared on the palate.

They had announced that they were making the changes to correct years of sacrificing quality for speed. As can be shown in the posted photographic evidence, speed is apparently still a problem. These pies were too hurriedly assembled. In my day (Caution: Old man rant about the good ‘ol days!) We took time to make sure each pie was assembled proportionally, evenly. It’s not really a small thing. We eat first with our eyes, and a tiny taste of olive is great, but a tight cluster, not so much. Sloppy, just plain sloppy.

The price was about as expected, three 14 inch (large) pies and the bread sticks came in at around forty four dollars. Not bad considering that they lasted us three entire meals. (mmm, breakfast pizza!)

The consensus of the family was, especially considering the fact that in order to pick up the pizzas in Desoto, that we have to drive right in front of Pizza Hut’s door, and that PH’s pizzas  are pretty good, there is simply no reason for us to order from Domino’s, they bring nothing unique or extra to the table.

Certainly better than a cheap freezer-pizza, and definitely less rich than Imo’s or other St. Louis style pizzas, it’s just not great, or even just a little better than that which is available elsewhere, right next door.

______________________________

 

Finally, another reason to not put complete trust in Wikipedia: ***

*** Quite coincidentally, these acts of Wikipedia 'vandalism' appeared in the Domino's entry only for a day or two on or about the time I was doing some background research on the franchise. Since these corruptions are usually removed quickly I decided to screen-capture the offending entries. Sure enough they were corrected/removed by Monday night. But here they are saved for posterity.
It's a Wikipedia thing. After all, if you actually give an infinite number of keyboards to an infinite number of chimps, you think it's Shakespeare that they'll come up with?

Off the Hook

12636 State Route 21
De Soto, MO

http://offthehookfish.net/

 

The Place:

Just inside the DeSoto city limits on Highway 21.  Though technically, legally, it is inside the city limits, it appears that those limits are very liberal. You can’t even see downtown from this location. 

It’s a locally owned and operated Midwestern-style restaurant that seems to be doing a pretty good business. We’ve eaten there before, of course, but not often. Inside is a sea/river theme, all things nautical, oars, life preservers, deep sea diving helmet, fishing rods, etc. adorn the walls and overheads. The center of the floor holds a large aquarium with large fresh water fish.
 

 The tables are unique. Standard wood tables covered with local ads permanently laminated under a thick coat of polyurethane varnish. Along with the ads are twenty or so trivia questions, the answers scattered around the ads. We tried a few of them and found them to be either fairly simple or uninteresting. I suggested that they should be more challenging and thought provoking, like this:

“Who was the only known lesbian U.S First Lady?”*

Adam and Angel looked at me like I was from Mars. I explained the answer to them. Adam responded: “I didn’t ask who it was, I just wanted to know how you possibly know that, what were you actually researching when you came across that?” I couldn’t recall, it was one of those things where I was reading about something, went on a tangent, then another, then voila, the story of America’s only known lesbian First Lady. I pretty much found out the same way that I found out that you cannot drive to South America from Central America because of the Darién Gap. It’s just something I came across and struggle to forget

The Food:

We scanned the menus, the trouble with this place is that there’s lots of good stuff to choose from. I’d had a mid-day snack and was not famished so I looked for something lighter than a steak or hamburger. Angel came across an entry on the salad page that seemed to fit the bill. Shrimp Scampi and salad. We both decided to order it. Adam asked for the BBQ Chicken tender sandwich with home-chips.

The shrimp, ten of them would be served in a creamy garlic sauce, with a baked potato, garlic bread and house salad on the side, we both opted for the poppy seed dressing.  Yeah a salad with a baked potato and bread on the side along with buttery cream sauce on the shrimp. It rendered all of the nutritional benefits of the salad completely moot. Along with the meals we ordered our drinks, tea, sweet tea and Pepsi, as well as two proven appetizers, crab rangoons and corn poppers.

We simply cannot eat at ‘Off the Hook’ without getting the corn nuggets. Wads of deep fried breaded corn. The rangoons are always a treat as well, a little sweet.

As we waited I scanned the room and observed that all three waitresses working the floor were near-clones. The uniform was black jeans and a titular black tee shirt, but the thing that struck me was that all three were similarly built and all had their shoulder length hair pulled back into a pony tail. I did not know if that was mandate or coincidence, but it reminded me of the generic women that used to pretend to play instruments and sway behind Robert Palmer in the 1986 video ‘Addicted to Love’, dressed exactly the same with the same hair and the same distant, detached look on their faces.

The appetizers and drinks were served, and as expected the tea was fresh, but unremarkable, but the poppers and rangoons were splendid. Other places serve corn poppers, but these are the best we’ve found anywhere.

The food came soon, sort of. The lady proudly laid down the plates, oblong ramekins filled with a creamy, soupy broth with the shrimp barely visible. On a separate plate a foil wrapped medium sized potato, a squeeze tube of sour cream. Another small plate held the toast.

“Will there be anything else?” She asked. Angel and I looked at each other as if someone had just performed a poorly timed bodily function. “Excuse me ma’am, but I think there was supposed to be a salad with this?”

She looked down at the ticket, scratched her head and sped off, returning shortly and apologizing.

“It was from the salad page.” Angel whispered to me.

“I know, it does go to confirm my suspicion that the salad in this meal was a facade, pretending to be the center of the dish. People don’t come to places like this to get salad.” I pointed my head to the other patrons, nearly all of them stereotypically pear shaped.

The salad itself was simple and fresh. Greens, red onion, tomato and some shredded carrot. The dressing, sweet and thin, made it a delight, even if the toss of the salad had not been thorough. The carrot shreds were all grouped together near the bottom left hand side of the bowl, the tomato chinks on top on the other side. I had to cut through the onion, which I don’t care for since salad bowls and a soft bed of greens makes chopping onions clumsy.

But it was fresh and the dressing was bright and smooth.

We prepped our potatoes, Angel left the foil on hers, I stripped mine, commando-style. There was just enough sour cream in the packet to make it worth it. The garlic toast was crisp.  The shrimp, once rescued from the murky depths of the cream sauce, was exceptional. Actually the shrimp was shrimp, it was the sauce itself that was so good. Thick, almost like a cream soup or maybe a chowder, buttery and lightly garlic-y. The ten medium shrimp had to be hunted in the bowl, there was  enough sauce to dip the toast and also to dab onto the potato. The taste and texture were perfect.

Adam seemed to like his sandwich, but the chicken was chopped, cubed rather than whole. The home chips were of course excellent. He did say that the ketchup tasted cheap. Angel recently started getting name-brand ketchup at home and we’d become spoiled. Yes there is a difference.

Angel said she liked the meal because it was unexpected. She’d assumed that we’d get catfish or chicken fried steak, but that this was a refreshing bit of variety. “I thought it would be light, it was in the salad section of the menu.” She said. “But that was not light.”

Summary:

This place is simply put, great. It’s a little like a Cracker Barrel, but better. The price is very reasonable, our bill came in at forty three dollars, that included two appetizers and more food than we could eat. Some of their offerings have been a little less than perfect, but unlike other places, the word ‘disgusting’ just does not apply.

_____________________________

* First Lady: If you really must know it was Rose Cleveland, Grover's sister. For the first two years (1885-1886) of his first term he was a bachelor and Rose was given the title and official duties. Once the President married young Francis Folsom (at 21 the U.S.'s youngest first lady, Grover was 49.) Rose skipped town and eventually moved back in with her long-time 'friend' Evangeline Simpson Whipple. The two exchanged many very graphic romantic letters during their time apart and lived together until Evangeline's death in 1918.

Follow up:  Bob Evans.

You might recall that a couple of weeks ago I was rather severe toward the meatloaf served at Bob Evans. Besides mentioning it in this blog review I also sent a terse ‘contact us’ email to the company. On Saturday I received, via snail mail, a letter from the company apologizing for my disappointment and saying they would send the matter to their quality assurance department. They also included ten dollars in meal discount coupons. I mentioned this on Facebook, and Angel replied saying “Great, bad food = more bad food.” We have yet to decide whether or not to redeem the coupons.

Pizza Hut

2090 Rock Road
Desoto, Mo
www.pizzahut.com

I was still recovering from a nasty cold. No big appetite, taste buds clogged up and non-responsive. Wheezing sniffling, snorting, groggy, fuzzy-headed. Enjoying the bliss of self medication. (Thanks Nyquil!)
Angel offered to just go pick something up, I said "Sure, whatever." She picked up two pizzas and some wings.
It hit the spot.
More recovery-napping predicted in my immediate future.

Kim’s Café V

Desoto Mo.

Man it was hot, ninety seven degrees, humidity hovering around ninety percent. The last thing we wanted was something heavy. Adam was the chooser and he chose well. Kim serves big meals and small ones.

The Place:

Across from the tracks at the bottom of the hill, across the parking lot that used to serve as a mini-bank, pretty much a single teller/drive-through affair where Angel did most of the banking that required transferring actual bits of paper. It closed a month or so ago, and Angel has been fuming about it ever since.

When we got to Kim’s there were no other customers, it was not quite five P.M., so we’d beat the evening crowd. We sat down in our usual booth, after a short squabble about who sat where. A gentleman arrived with menus just as we’d sorted it out. He asked about drinks, and we replied, tea, tea, Pepsi.

I know, I know, tea at Kims, like I was just begging for trouble. When the gentleman delivered the drinks he made sure to say “I brought you some extra ice, the tea is fresh-brewed and still warm.” I kid you not, he upped the ante.

Without saying as much we were looking for something different, not that the stuff we’d had before was bad, quite the opposite in fact. But there’s really only so much one can say about an excellent BLT or burger.

Kim came out warily, cautiously, yet friendly. We called up our orders.

The Food:

I ordered the walleye fish sandwich with fries (crinkle-style) instead of chips. Angel called for the ribs, Adam the chicken fried chicken, mashed potatoes and corn. With her ribs Angel asked for mashed potatoes and the house salad.

The salad was delivered promptly, Adam snagged a crouton before the bowl hit the table. Adam likes croutons, often the bagged ones we usually have around the house end up as his snacks more so than as salad topping.

Kim’s croutons are light, golden, with a slight crunch. Adam likes them okay but he likes the dark rubbery ones at Ruby Tuesday’s better. I dug in for the story. “So do you like these croutons?’ I asked, he nodded. “But not as much as Ruby’ Tuesdays?” I probed. He squinted and attacked. “You’re just looking for something to write about, you don’t really care if I like these croutons better than others!”

I wrote that down.

“I’m just looking for critique points, that’s why we’re here.”

“Yeah, but you’re going to make an issue about me and croutons like it's a big deal.”

“Hey, you don’t have to answer, I already know enough about you and croutons to write three paragraphs about it, I just like hearing your opinion.”

He grunted, then added “I like the croutons in the bags we get from the grocery store better than Ruby Tuesday’s.”

I wrote that down as well. It wasn’t really all that fascinating, but it would make for good filler in case this review turned up short.

As it turns out I can write three paragraphs about Adam and croutons.

The salad was about half gone when the door chime announced the arrival of another customer. I’d seen the middle-aged man step down from his big white pickup. He was wearing new jeans that were rolled up, they were about three sizes too long otherwise. This look was popular in the 50's. He also wore a bright red shirt, large glasses, and a straw cowboy hat. In other words, he didn’t really stand out in downtown Desoto.

He stood in the middle of the floor, apparently unfamiliar with the layout. Kim kindly and politely asked to assist him, she did not appear to recognize him either. A new customer.

“Do you know what you want?” She asked him, pulling out her pad. He continued to look around at the overhead ‘special’ announcements.

“Do you have sauerkraut?” he asked.

The three of us immediately snapped to attention. We painfully choked our snickering and listened for what could possibly come next.

Kim, also looking a bit baffled played it as best as she could. “We have kraut that we put on our some of our sandwiches.”

Then it got better.

“I was thinking kraut cooked with a ham bone.” He replied as if that were a common diner option everywhere but here.

We were struggling to maintain ourselves, we had to whisper since we were the only other customers at the time.

“That’s the line I’m going to use at every restaurant we ever go to.” I told the clan. Adam snorted, Angel sighed. She sighed because she knows I will.

She knows this because of how I order beer.

Here’s a challenge for you. It’s not a big one it only requires that you watch TV. You’ve seen it a thousand times already, a guy walks into a bar and says to the barkeep: “Beer!” that’s it, just “Beer.”

Now you try it. Go to a bar and ask for “Beer.” Just like they do on TV. Go on, try it, it’s hilarious, or as Angel describes it, embarrassing. So she now knows at sometime, someplace completely inappropriate, I’ll ask for sauerkraut, cooked with a ham bone. Maybe at Trattoria Giuseppe’s, or Wendy’s or Waffle House. It’ll be hilarious!

Anyway, Kim masterfully talked the cowboy into a burger instead, though I now know what I’m ordering next time.

The food we got was of course, excellent. Kim is a splendid restaurateur, she doesn’t serve anything that isn’t good, and she offers much more than standard greasy diner fare. The fish was crispy on the outside, flaky inside, the fries were crinkly and crunchy, the pickle sour. Angel left teeth marks on the bared rib bones and Adam’s food disappeared quickly.

The tea? Well, that still needs work. It was clear and fresh, but either the ice or the cup itself had a flowery aroma to it that did not fit well with the drink. Hey, if I didn’t criticize something I wouldn't be earning my paycheck.*

Summary:

Awesome good place! The price is fair and the food plentiful. The bill came in at thirty-two dollars and change, I bumped up the total to forty even. At the register Kim smiled and asked about the only thing she was really worried about. “How was the tea?”

“Kim, you’re just not going to win this one.” I answered.

“I have to try.”

That’s why I like her and her place so well, because she cares and she will try.

_______________________________________

* There is, of course no actual paycheck with this gig.

Kim's Cafe IV

DeSoto, Mo.

Angel, Adam and Deedee (one of the dogs) were off to Springfield. Angel’s grandmother’s 96th birthday and an impromptu baby shower for her rude and insufferable daughter Stephanie. I got to stay home and tend to the six dogs she left behind. Not a huge problem, four of them are ours, well trained and rather laid back, plus Pointy (a min-pin mix) and Eva (looks like Deedee, but with an un-cropped tail) who were in for foster care and basic training. I kept them fed and made sure everyone got to go out to play at least every couple of hours. The weather cooperated and the whole chore was amusing, but uneventful. Blue pined for his mother’s return, George was both oblivious and grouchy, and poor, elderly Bailey who’s recently lost most, if not all of her hearing, moped around quite pleased with the quiet. Pip, my own dog, sat with me in my recliner and followed me around when she wasn’t out playing with the foster girls.

Around dinnertime I debated whether to eat out or not. I was only mildly hungry, but finally my obligation to my growing circle of fans overcame my own personal preference.

I could have just grabbed a quick burger, but my doctor says my ‘numbers’ are a bit too high to be casually gorging myself on fatty meats and deep fried this or that. I’d decided to at least moderate, if not back off the stuff entirely.

The Place:

Kim’s is a personal favorite. Pretty much small-town diner style in décor and offerings. A small place in a strip mall on Main Street in Desoto, across from the tracks. I walked in to see three ladies tending the front, two young and underfed, one as old or older than me. Kim was nowhere in sight, but I could hear her voice in the back, barking orders and instructions, running the place as calmly and capably as a seasoned battlefield commander.

A few tables were occupied, one by an older guy, one of those older guys, chatty, flirtatious (with the staff, not me) and a small family or two. I picked a booth closer to the family in order to avoid striking up a banal conversation with the old dude. The child in the family’s possession had an entire Thomas the Train set, locomotive three or for cars and a caboose, in front of him. You’d think this would have shut him up, but it didn’t. He was just as whiney and demanding as all kids that age are. His parents were dutiful and attentive though and spurts and outbursts were kept to a minimum. I personally believe there should be a ‘No Kids’ section requirement in eating establishments, about three or four blocks away from the slimy, sticky, shrill beasts. But that’s just me.

At some point Kim peeked out form the back, smiled and waved at me. I scanned the menu, not having pre-decided on anything.

The Food:

Well, okay I had decided to try the chili again. I’d had a slinger/slammer there a few months back but I couldn’t recall the chili exactly. I didn’t want just chili though since I’d had some of my own home-brew for breakfast/lunch. Fortunately Kim offered a ‘cup’ for a buck ninety-nine, that would do. Now, what to have with it. The ‘Special’ sounded good, a NY strip with shrimp scampi, baked potato and a salad, but whoa.. that’s a whole lot of food. They also headlined ribs and pork steak… also too heavy. I eventually decided on a light sandwich instead. A BLT. I know, I know, bacon…. But sheesh, I could atone for this little sin later, during the work week.

I ordered, the BLT would come with potato chips and the chili with crackers… but compared to other outings and possibilities, a fairly light meal.

While I waited the café remained abuzz. Kim offers delivery and pick-ups and a lot of the busyness was tending to just that.

My coffee arrived almost immediately. I only ordered that because Kim gets upset with me for always referring to her tea as ‘unremarkable’. Having coffee instead would be a sure way for her not to get dinged for that yet again. The coffee was dark, deep and quite good, but not excellent.

In less than five minutes after I ordered my meal, it was on my table. A simple BLT, standard toasted white bread, a single fresh leaf of lettuce and three or four wide and perfectly cooked strips of bacon over a fresh slice of tomato. The chips were standard potato chips, which was fine since I really didn’t need them anyhow. The small bowl of chili was thick and steaming, beans floating to the top like coffins after a flood. Alongside my plate was placed a basket full of saltines, two per cellophane packet. I don’t mind this as unwrapping these packets can be counted as ‘exercise’ and helps burn off calories and build muscle tone.

I tried the chili first. Savory style, and not bad at all. At home our chili tends to be sweeter, more tomato-y, but I don’t mind the earthy style if it is done well and this version was. I intended only to get a taste, instead I ate more than half of it. The BLT was simple and perfect, not even a half-note out of tune. I only had to apply the packet of ‘Real Mayonnaise’ and it was just as good as I’d ever had. The pickle spear was crisp and substantial and went better with the sandwich than the chili.

Summary:

A very good meal experience. The food was delicious and satisfying, the service was spot-on. The atmosphere was that of a small town diner, the real kind, not the fake kind that Country Kitchen, Denny’s and Bob Evan’s try to pass off.

The price was another pleaser. My whole meal came in at eight bucks and change. As I settled up I whipped out my tired and abused ATM card and handed it over.

“We’re supposed to ask if you’d like to add a tip to the card.” the young lady with the bright blue streak in her otherwise black hair shyly said.

“But of course fair maiden, of course!” I replied “What sort of ignorant, boorish heathen would leave this fine establishment without dropping a few shillings for the lovely winches!”

“She looked at me a little funny, so I repeated myself. “Yeah, I’d like to add a tip.”

She prepared to tap in a number. “How much?” She asked.

“What was the total on the bill?” I asked.

“Eight dollars and seventy nine cents.”

“Make it ten then.” I responded.

“Make the total out to ten dollars?”

“No, add a ten dollar tip to the bill.” I smiled.

“Are you sure?”

“Certainly, just make sure to let Kim know.”

“Oh, I will.” She smiled as she pulled the receipt out of the little printer.

I didn’t mention that we accidentally short-tipped Kim the last time we were there. So what if the girl remembers me as ‘Mr. Spendy’, it can’t hurt.

Off the Hook

12636 Missouri 21
De Soto, MO

http://www.offthehookfish.net/

Saturday:

I’d been parking at the top of our driveway, about four hundred feet from the house, since Wednesday’s snow storm. Angel and Adam had cleared the area nearest the house but for several days there was only a shovel-wide path cleared between the house and the car. Saturday was my first chance to clear the rest. There was about four inches remaining, crunchy and icy underneath. Using gravity whenever possible I started at the top and scooped the snow to one side or the other until the drive was completely clear. It took three or four hours. A friend of mine once did the calculation, determined how much snow was moved, four hundred feet long, eight feet wide and four inches deep. I forget the number, but it’s a lot. It’s the equivalent of moving a large house, I think, one half square foot at a time . I don’t mind really, it’s actually quite therapeutic, calming, and when done there is a verifiable measure of accomplishment. It does lead to a healthy appetite. I burn more calories clearing the drive after one significant snowfall than I did for the entire decade of the 1990’s. As dinnertime arrived, I was a bit achy, but I had managed a nap and my tummy was growling.

The Place:

Adam got to pick, and his choice was satisfying to all. Off the Hook is not a chain, and it’s not in a shopping center. It sits alongside the road between Hillsboro and DeSoto with a parking lot that slants in several directions at once. The building is only a few years old and is early-American, almost barn-styled. It’s kind of like a country kitchen without the kitschy general store part. The place was only about half full, we were seated immediately. The floor plan is large and open with a high ceiling, decorated with all things fish and fishing. In the center of the floor is a large aquarium filled with fish that are not on the menu. The wait staff, all wearing logo’d tee shirts were bustling about, all female except for the guy clearing the tables. At this place the women take orders and handle the money, the men do the dirty work, cleaning up the inevitable mess, not unlike many marriages.

The Food:

I didn’t need to stare long at the menu. Though they offer other things, like chicken fried steak, fried chicken, burgers and such, the only thing I really want there is the catfish. I chose my sides and waited for Angel and Adam to make their picks. Our teas and Coke were delivered, Adam needed a few more minutes.

Finally, after being sighed at repeatedly, he made his choice and the young lady took our order.

I asked for the catfish with slaw and baked beans. Angel, the catfish, slaw and white beans (just to be contrary). Adam asked for the Angus burger with extra cheddar cheese and bacon. The catfish plates also came with hush puppies and home fries.

Hushpuppies, a southern staple allegedly got their name by hunters. They would carry some fried cornmeal batter and toss them to their dogs while the hunters enjoyed the actual catch of the day. Runaway slaves would do the same to silence guard dogs. Thus a cheap, readily available food to 'hush the puppies.'

As we waited, Adam and I discussed alternative snow removal techniques and ideas. I like to start shoveling as soon as possible, before it turns crunchy. In fact I told Adam that if I could, I would start shoveling before it even started falling, that way I could use the shovel to swat the snowflakes away from the driveway before they could accumulate. He thought about it and agreed, in theory, to the idea. We also discussed installing guided lasers to destroy each individual snowflake as it fell, though there were questions about the cost of such a device, as well as concerns of possible collateral damage.

We’d ordered an appetizer as well, OTH has a fantastic selection of appetizers. We opted for our favorite, the fried corn nuggets. It’s whole kernel corn, fresh from the can, squeezed together with a light and binding corn-bread batter then deep fried to a golden brown. These things are simply awesome. We scarfed them down quickly as we continued our discussion.

Soon our meals were delivered and all went quiet as we dug in.

Angel and I each got five ‘nuggets’, each one about five inches long and an inch thick. Coated with a thin, crunchy cornbread batter and fried perfectly, the fish was moist and flaky. The fries and hush puppies were perfect as well, though I held one puppy in reserve. The beans, home made and sweet were served in a small bowl, as was the sweet, but not-very-creamy coleslaw.* Angel thought the slaw could have been a bit sweeter, but I was quite satisfied, especially after last week’s blue cheese slaw (blech!) at Ruby Tuesday’s.**

There was no way I was going to be able to eat it all, but that was not a problem. They’ll give you a box (as long as you don’t order the ‘all-you-can-eat’ offering) and saving back a hushpuppy, two of the nuggets and a few fries makes for a great Sunday lunch.

Adam’s burger and fries disappeared quickly, Angel stopped eating at about the same time I did. We discussed the food and found no flaws. This was our second or third trip here and agreed that the quality of the food and service was very consistent and very good.

Summary:

The place is very well managed, clean, efficient and the food is, without exception, of excellent quality. The price was very reasonable. The whole thing including the appetizer and more food than we could eat, came in at thirty seven dollars. This is roughly half the price of a similar meal at the chain restaurants. I’d put this place up against any chain restaurant in the area. They’ve got it all figured out, a casual atmosphere, excellent food, affordable prices and a great staff. They manage a lot of traffic without any noticeable sign of distress or disorder.

If you come to visit us, we’ll probably take you there. They offer ‘family style’ meals for large groups so every one can dig in as much as they like. Highly recommended!

________________________

*Not-very-creamy coleslaw. This is not necessarily a bad thing. Some coleslaw, like KFC's uses buttermilk to add creaminess, other places simply use vinegar, sugar and mayonnaise, and some use just vinegar and sugar. It's a tradition/taste thing. I prefer the creamy stuff, but I'm not married to it.

** I have sent 'Feedback' to Ruby Tuesday's about their awful, awful slaw. If it is stricken from the menu, as it should be, you'll have me to thank.

Sonic

Prologue:

With my sincerest possible apologies, I offer this week’s lackluster review. We had planned to go to a nice sit-down place and enjoy a leisurely meal. Instead we went to a drive-in and ate burgers in the car.

Often our schedule is dictated by affairs of the dogs. In this case it was Ace, a handsome, young, tall and narrow German Shepherd (GSD). Ace spent much of his life at the C.A.R.E facility in a kennel. We took him in on Wednesday night to get some good photos that we could post on petfinder.com. Angel also planned to spend some time with him to evaluate his behavior, which helps when placing dogs into new homes. Friday night we got a call, a couple form Rogersville, Mo. was ready, willing and able to adopt him. They already had one GSD, a small female, and had raised others. They seemed to understand the dogs and sounded competent and worthy. They made plans to pick him up late Saturday afternoon.

Rogersville is about 185 miles from our house so they couldn’t pin the time down very well. They suggested somewhere around six, or six thirty depending on traffic. That quashed our normal five-ish dining time, so we decided to dine later, after they picked up the dog.

They arrived about six-thirty and out plopped their female GSD. A rather small specimen, she stayed close, attached at the hip to her female owner. She presented all the indications of being very shy and non-socialized. This is not always a bad thing and it can get better over time. Angel did point out to the owners that it didn’t help to reinforce the timidity.

Ace was about twice the female’s size, and the small dog was frightened. Angel took them to the training facility and let them acquaint. Ace wanted to play with the pretty girl, she just wanted to dig a hole and crawl into it. I left them alone and went about my business. (doing nothing, just doing it elsewhere)

Angel came in about a half hour later and sighed, the deal was off. Ace just wanted to play, and in coaxing the shy little one he barked at her, which just made matters worse. She took it as aggression and would have nothing to do with the big, lumbering puppy. A mutual decision was made; the couple didn’t have the time (days/weeks) to put in getting the dogs over their confused signals, so they opted out.

It was about seven thirty before we finally climbed into the car to eat. By this time the idea of spending the next two hours in a restaurant wasn’t as appealing. So we went to Sonic. We could have just gone to Burger King, McDonalds (Satan’s place), Hardees or DQ, but no, we at least needed to go to a new place because of our obligation to you, the readers.

The Place:

Sonic is a drive-in, this one in Desoto next to Wal-Mart. Sonic originated in Shawnee, Oklahoma in the 50’s and didn’t really spread out much till the 70’s and 80’s. It is most recognizable for the stalls to park in and the service staff often on roller skates. They serve drive-in fare, burgers, dogs, fries, tots and limeades. If I’d been to one before it was probably the one on Division Street in Springfield, Mo, but that would have been twenty or so years ago. I don't recall ever pulling in, but I know I passed it a lot.

We pulled into a stall near the service entry so as to better survey the goings-on. Music played from cheap outdoor weather-proof speakers, a St. Louis radio station, a show called ‘Motown Saturday Night.’ I’m okay with Motown, though I don’t think I have any on either of my two entire CD’s of ‘lifetime favorites’. As it was it sort of blended in with the traffic noise coming from the highway above us.

The menu/speaker/credit card reader was large and colorful. A simple menu with no more than ten combinations, and a host of sides/alternates/drinks. We were pretty hungry at this point and not too picky.

Angel ordered through the intercom, the voice on the other end read it back perfectly. We sat in the car and I contemplated how the three of us were going to spread out the food/drinks without making a huge mess. It’s a sizable vehicle, a 2005 Chevy Trailblazer, Angel and I in the front, Adam in the back where the dogs normally go. With his seat up and the one beside of him down it looked like he was going to have better luck than we would. Angel suggested sitting outside at one of the several metal-on-metal tables, but there were some loud teenaged girls out there being loud and teenage-ery. So we sat in the SUV, windows down to enjoy the pleasant evening, the aromas wafting over us as only aromas can. The aroma after a while became a smell, then almost an odor. Angel put her finger on it, the combination of vehicle exhaust, sizzling animal fat and deep fryers was perfectly reminiscent of a county fair.

The wait wasn’t very long, a young thick man came out with two trays, balancing himself comfortably on his rollerblades.

The Food:

I opted for #5, a Bacon-Cheese ‘Toaster’ with tots and iced tea.

Adam had the #4, Crispy Chicken Sandwich (with no tomatoes), tots and sweet tea, no ice. (He had said that they put too much ice in their drinks)

Angel took the #2, the Super-Sonic Cheeseburger, tots and Diet Coke. I asked for a sharable order of onion rings as well, recalling that their ads were always going on about their onion rings.

We rattled, tore and folded the various paper bags, passed out the offerings, balanced our drinks precariously in places that weren’t designed for holding drinks. Angel’s was on the steering wheel, mine on the door handle where it was poised so at a moments’ inattentiveness it would dump itself onto my crotch.

My ‘toaster’ was tepid and somewhat limp. The bread, basically thick white bread advertised as ‘Texas toast’ was not right. It had been toasted, but apparently at the lowest possible setting, there were some yellow scorch marks but not many. It was not so crisp, it felt more like stale. It was also room temperature. It was as if they undercooked the toast then let it sit and wait for everything else to get done. It was also about twice the size of the beef patty so the first few bites were nothing but undercooked toast. Once the heart of the sandwich was reached the ketchup overpowered everything else. I opened it up and could find no bacon whatsoever. With this much ketchup though it is doubtful that I would have tasted it anyhow. The tots were not crisp as Adam had remembered them. They were okay at first, until they cooled and turned doughy. Tots need to be overcooked, crispy on the outside or else they take on the consistency of whatever chemical/biological/metaphysical binder they use to make a tot. The tea was uninspired, I hadn’t really expected any better.

Adam mentioned that his chicken was very thin and not really all that crispy. Angel’s burger was, as she put it ‘not great’. Her drink had, as Adam had predicted, too much ice, and she finished it before the food was gone.

The onion rings were hand-made, real onion rings, irregular, imperfect and cooked pretty well. The first few were fine but after a while a sickly sensation came through. The county-fair odor we had detected was in fact cooking oil well past its prime. You gotta’ flush that stuff out of the fryers once in a while or the taste/texture of the food goes off the rails.

Summary:

Blech.

Unsatisfying, poorly prepared, inferior components (meat/bread). It only cost us a couple of dimes over twenty two dollars, and it was fast, but there was simply no significant positives to the experience. Perhaps it was just THIS Sonic, or THIS night, since I can’t imagine a place with such lackluster quality staying in business very long. I suppose if you like to order from and then eat in your car, it’s one of the few options that allow you to park where you order, but I can’t see that as a significant draw. Many times I’ve done the drive-through at Hardees or BK and just parked in the lot and dined.

Honestly I hope this was just a bad night for them, since the menu is really not all that varied and complicated. Nothing was cooked right, the meats were small and lifeless, and the tots, the tots were a terrible disappointment. And that toast! How in the name of all that may or may not be holy do you screw up toast?

We were disappointed; the highest ranking remark was from Adam: “It was (pause) okay.”

Epilogue:

We'll try to do better next week.