Texas Roadhouse

806 Arnold Commons Drive
Arnold, MO
On the Web
On Facebook


I used to be a Texan. Seriously, legally and residentially, a Texan. For my entire military career of nine years, for tax purposes especially. Texas has no state income tax you see, so it was just practical. I was seventeen when I enlisted and my first two bases were San Antonio for Basic Training, then Wichita Falls for technical training and three more years thereafter for my first tour of duty. I bought my first car there, got married, rented my first apartments and my oldest son and only daughter were born there. So I was indeed, a legitimate Texan.
Though I never fully assimilated into the stereotypical lifestyle. The rowdiness and line dancing, the big hats, the brawling, spitting, truck driving, man’s man. I didn’t even care for the Dallas Cowboys or beer.
So a place called ‘Texas Roadhouse’ hardly had automatic appeal. But then again, there is virtually nothing about the chain of steakhouses that hails from the Lone Star state. The chain got its beginnings, as did I, in Kentucky and is still headquartered in Louisville ( Lew-uh-vul ). There are currently over 450 locations, including several overseas.
We’ve been trying to go there for several years. Each and every time though, the lines wrapping around the place scared us off. We don’t like lines. Not so much because of the wait as for the people. Too many random, unoccupied people loitering around impatiently gives off a certain uncomfortable energy that repels us. Though the lines did seem to indicate that it was a very popular choice.
The stars aligned this past weekend though. We had no other ideas and it was Superb Owl weekend. Our thinking was that people who watch that silly game tend to do so around parties in someone’s home. Big food spread, lots of beer, etc.
Adam agreed to join us. In case we misjudged the crowd, Angel suggested making sure our personal communication devices were fully charged to better deal with the possible long wait. She even swapped shifts with her assistant to provide coverage for the client dogs for an extended period, should it be required. We were finally going to do this.
The Place:
As it turned out, we had predicted correctly. The parking lot seemed lightly used compared to other times we’d tried. There was no line out the door. Adam was already there so we parked beside him and went in. At the entry we were assaulted by a blast of country music from overhead. Some generic, male country singer whining about some drunken transgression or another, perhaps my least favorite form of the genre.
At the counter there were several of the crew milling about, it was hard to pick one person out of the crowd to assist us in navigation. The music was still loud, which caused the more than half packed building to try to talk over it and each other. The walls were wood paneled and adorned with lots of stuff, neon lights, the antlered heads of several large animals, etc. On one wall, near where we were seated, was a large mural of an indigenous American all spiffed up and painted for battle. Adam sat directly beneath a large antlered head, we sat across from him, facing a six thousand inch, muted television that was showing the pre-game shows for the silly sports spectacle. Near us there were a couple of larger groupings, extended families perhaps. One group, the larger of them, had a couple of uncooperative preschoolers that needed to be yelled at frequently. This caused the tikes to shriek back in their own defense.
I noticed the floor was pretty much painted concrete and littered throughout with crushed peanut shells. Which surprised me since I thought I recalled some restaurant or another suffering severe liability issues of letting customers spread the shells all over the floor. The Roadhouse offers up a bucket of shelled peanuts on every table. The things are messy, I know, since I’m quite fond of the roasted beans myself and have been known to leave a mess with the shells.

The Food:
We also received a basket of yeasty rolls to nibble on while we perused the menu. We wanted steak, after all it is a steakhouse and Angel had seen some ads for steak and lobster, which sounded lovely to me too.
But of course, that was simply not on the menu. Apparently it was a limited time thing. So when the time came Angel and I went with steak and shrimp instead. Six ounce sirloin, medium rare. Adam, who occasionally has steak, decided instead on the country style option, beaten, battered, pan-fried, covered in gravy. For sides, Angel opted for a baked potato and Caesar salad, I for the potato and corn. Adam asked, clearly, for mashed potatoes and corn. The gentleman scribbled down our orders and scurried away. The sticky kids at the nearby group table shrieked again, one started running around the table. My eyes could not avoid occasionally looking up at the giant screen, though with no sound, the antics of the sports guys were unclear and uninteresting. The rolls and my iced tea were quite good though, not so much the cinnamon-butter delivered with them, it just seemed odd.
The place seemed hectic, the crew was running around all over the place, I somewhat expected a long wait. It turned out to not be so bad after all. Pretty soon the two Caesar salads showed up. . .  .
Yeah, two of them. The lady insisted that there were two for our table, though Adam and I both recalled not ordering one. She left it on the table anyhow. Adam took it with a shrug of the shoulders. In a moment or two our first server stopped by. We told him about the salad, thinking that someone wasn’t going to get the side they’d really ordered. He said something about maybe it being a mix-up in the kitchen then darted off. When he returned he told us, in sort of a victorious fashion, that yes indeed the kitchen had made a mistake, as if we really cared much who had bungled the order. We told him we just wanted to make sure that we’d actually get the sides we’d asked for.
I tasted the salad, it was okay, not as subtle as some Caesar’s I’ve had, but not bad.
The nearby table erupted again, this time the adults shrieking at the kids.
The meals arrived in pretty good time after that, the steaks and shrimp still sizzling. Our server kept

trying to hand Angel the chicken fried steak, even after several voices of protest, which the server tended to talk over. Finally he got it right and I started disassembling my potato. Once cubed and smashed with the butter and sour cream, I cut into the steak. The done-ness was perfect. The aroma, intoxicating. The meat was very, very tender, almost buttery. The server had asked if I wanted steak sauce, I answered that question the way I always do: “Not if you did it right.” He smiled and agreed.
Here’s the thing about steak. You don’t need to be a master chef with intense knowledge of spices, herbs and other ingredients when it comes to steak. All you need for a perfect steak is the right amount of heat and to know when to stop cooking it. Add a pinch of salt and pepper and that’s it, perfection. The same can be said about grilled shrimp. A little butter and or lemon/garlic and once you get the heat and done-ness right, you’re done. There is simply no need to do anything else, at all.
Mostly because of the Malliard reaction.
Caution! Researched scientific information!
Louis-Camille Malliard was a French chemist who, in 1912, first released results of an exhaustive, yet delicious investigation into the browning of heated foods. When heat is applied to certain foods, a form of non-enzymatic browning takes place that occurs when the changes in amino acid structure reacts with a carbonyl group of sugars within that food item. Similar in many characteristics, though different at the chemical layer, from caramelization of sugar.
I don’t understand most of that either, but the bottom line is that applying heat to food actually changes not just the texture, but the taste of that food. Toast, for example, which is what I was researching when I came across this science stuff, does not taste like un-toasted bread. Not only a satisfying browning and crispy texture change, but a core taste change.

This applies to steak as well. Even though the inner part of a steak doesn’t change much, we are essentially wrapping it in a crunchy, well-tanned, maybe even scorched outer layer. That’s why it smells and tastes so good.
It is tempting to try to improve upon this, to put one’s personal stamp and flavor profile on steaks. We do this quite commonly with barbecued meats, sauces and rubs. However, steak just doesn’t need it. The same with shrimp/lobster. You don’t need to improve on its most basic and perfect taste.
But alas, Texas Roadhouse could not leave well enough alone. The shrimp didn’t really taste like shrimp, it was crowded out by whatever herbs and spices the joint dunked it in. The steak, cooked perfectly, tasted like it was savagely rubbed down with unnecessary flavor additives. It wasn’t awful, just completely unnecessary. Adam’s CFS had the exact same problem, too much superfluous seasoning.
Summary:
Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t a terrible meal, just a little less than it should be, a little less than it very easily could have been. After exiting, Angel added that next time she wanted a steak, we should just go back to the tried and true Ruby Tuesday’s in Festus. Or a dozen other places where the meat is better respected. The price, just over fifty bucks was fine, but no better than other places.
Adam summed it up very well later. "Went to the ol' Texas Roadhouse for dinner with the folks. Although I was feeling unimpressed with most of it as a whole, it was the Gather 'Round the Wait Staff and Get Everyone to Cheer for a Birthday that really sold me on never wanting to go there again."
The music, the noise, the stack of small service errors, just didn’t add up to expectations. I understand that some people and families like busy, active, even loud meals together, but that just isn’t us.
The nail on the head was that noisy table with the small kids. It turned out that this was the little girl’s sixth birthday meal. The staff pulled in a saddle mounted to a short saw horse, shoved the little girl on it, then gathered together and started clapping and chanting and cheering like it was a pep rally before a high school sporting event. This really snapped our tightly coiled, introverted brain springs.
Like I said, a lot of people seem to enjoy this level of raucousness, but it is just not for us.
We will not be standing in line for this in the future, there’s just no need.

Thai Rama

907 N. Truman Blvd.
Crystal City, Mo.
On the web

First, The artists, producers, photographers, writers, editors and researchers at Eat and Critique would like to send out a big thank you to you, all of you, for making this epic and cosmically important review blog the unimaginable success it has been.
This week marks seven years, 307 posts and nearly 200,000 views. Wow, right?
Though we may occasionally boast, we are quite humbled on the inside.

Here we go.

Thai? Really?
Yes, I know We've never reviewed a Thai restaurant before. Not because there were none available, or that we were not aware of them, but for cultural reasons. Not the Thai culture, but that of my family.
Angel and I are culinarily, purely Midwestern. Born and bred on meat and potatoes, fried chicken, pot roast, burgers, hot dogs and bologna sandwiches. Our major spices are salt and pepper. Red sauce is ketchup.
We really like (air quotes) 'Chinese food', because what we have at Chinese restaurants is mostly invented or perfected in the USA. Just recently when we went out for Chinese, I inwardly lamented that everything seemed to taste the same, breaded, fried, you know.
We've always known that Thai or Indian would not be that comfortable taste profile. When Adam was going with us regularly, Thai was not even an option. Adam only likes about seven things, and none of them are coated with curry or peanut sauce.
So this was a big deal for us.
I'd had Thai before, maybe three or four times, at lunch with co-workers back when I lunched with co-workers, a thing I only do very rarely now, more for medical reasons than that I can't stand to eat with them. I've even tried a couple of Indian places with actual people from India.  More on that in a future episode.
When I do eat with co-workers I tend to drown in the anxiety of having to socialize with a larger group of people. Yeah, I'm one of those. I don't follow sports or fashion trends or have young kids or vacations like the rest of them and that seems to be what they like to talk about. So stressful is it that I rarely even notice the meal itself.
Anyway,
The Place:
In an unassuming shopping center next door to Twin City Monuments, a headstone operation that I've always wanted to visit. I've got this thing about headstones, I once asked another monument company to let me buy a couple of small 'mistake' stones. You know, just to have around the yard.
We would not be dining in. Angel called it in, I  made the hour long solo trek (extra 15-20 minutes thanks to the bridge work I mentioned last week) to Festus/Crystal City and back. Angel had created and called in the order, all I had to do was go get it. Inside was well staffed, deceptively large and nicely decorated.
When I went in the order was on the counter. There were several folks there, some eating, some waiting. The young man at the counter, as well as the three or four others, were all smiling and friendly, they seemed to be genuinely content. The transaction went straight through, I barely had time to look around. It was definitely clean and orderly, at least out front. Nothing fancy, well, except for the big mural on the wall, but nothing over the top or too kitschy. The aroma of the place was intoxicating, in a good way.
The Food:
We decided to do it 'make-your-own-buffet' style as we do with Chinese take-out. Since neither of us knew what we would like, she studied the menu a day ahead of time to create a buffet of possibilities. I knew Pad Thai with chicken was pretty tame, so she made sure to order that.
Along with:
A2 - Thai Spring Roll - cucumber, carrot, green onion, egg tofu, in rice paper, with a plum sauce.

C5 - Musaman Curry  - Coconut milk, white onion, and potato chunks, beef.
C4 - Panang Curry - milk, bell peppers, basil, and peanut sauce, chicken.
H3 - Gang Quah Shrimp - Panang Curry (above), pineapple, tomatoes, bell peppers, basil.
Yes, curry. Crazy, right?
Curry refers to a blend of spices. The word itself derives from the Tamil (Southeast India) word 'kari' which translates to 'sauce, relish for rice.' Thai Rama's curries are definitely the wet version of curry, sauces to serve over rice or noodles. We had already had noodles in the Pad Thai, so Angel ordered up some plain white rice as well, to host the curries.
In Indian restaurants there is a flat bread, similar to a pita, called naan, that you dip into the various curries.
Rice is good for that too, you just can't really pick it up with your hands.
I was a little worried. One of those times I did go Thai with co-workers, one guy, who I'll refer to as Doug, asked for the full five-alarm spice tray. He's light complected and even with a decades old, built up tolerance to most things, including almost daily 7-11 hot dogs, he turned so bright red that we considered calling 911. In fact, if we liked him more, we probably would have.
Just kidding, Doug is great, even though he curiously thinks Trump is a reasonable candidate, I like him anyhow.

Once home, Angel popped open the lids and posed them for the photo shoot. I learned something about curry during that particular part of the effort, curry is not terribly photogenic. They all looked alike.
I knew the milky, creamy sauces contained hidden secrets though.
We each dished up some rice and distributed each of the three curries around our plates. They still looked very similar, but the meats, especially the shrimp gave up hints. The curry sauce for the shrimp and chicken was the same, though with slightly different veggie chunks.
The spring rolls were fresh, crisp and cool. Fresh chilled veggies in strips wrapped in a very thin, nearly transparent rice wrap. I tried eating one in two bites, but the wrap burst on several sides when I bit into the veggies and was useless for another unified bite. Probably intended for a single thrust.
They were very good, providing a springtime contrast to the heartier rice and milky sauces.
The Pad Thai was a dish I recalled, very tame. If you too are wary about Thai food, Pad Thai is a safe choice. Not very spicy. Noodles, veggies, chicken. . .  I tried it first, about as good as I remembered it, though after eating some of the curries, it seemed quite bland. The tickle of heat in the Panang curry was enough to make the more subtle spices in the noodle dish disappear completely.
And it was just a tickle. I don't like heat for heat's sake. I have no tolerance for pepper spices, even Tabasco. I never use the stuff.
This is that cultural thing I mentioned earlier. There's nothing insane or even rare about hotter spices,

it's just that I was never around it much. My parents never, ever pushed stronger flavors on me, so most of it is their fault anyhow.
The use of tomatoes and pineapple seemed a little weird as well. I love tomatoes, I love pineapple, but I'm just not accustomed to finding them cooked into a creamy, savory sauce. I tried them anyhow. It's something I could get used to, but it will take a while. I didn't find it disgusting, or even bad, it's just my under-trained taste buds were having trouble translating it to my brain.
The curries here, Panang and Musaman are both Thai standards. I'll not go into the specific details here, that's what we built the internet for. Suffice it to say that they have different taste profiles.
We took a poll and we both agreed that the shrimp was our favorite, but only by a little.
Summary:
And that's what we both noticed. There's a lot going on with the depth and breadth of tastes, all of them. This was not flour, grease and milk gravy, nor was it a basic two-spice tomato sauce. There was a lot going on.
Neither of us are experienced enough to be able to define it better than that. This stuff was very, very different from the mac and cheese and pigs in a blanket styles of food we grew knowing and loving.
It was an awakening, of what, we're not sure. It seemed exotic, foreign, unfamiliar, yet enticing. We felt like explorers.
This buffet cost a little over fifty bucks, but there was a lot of food. When we do this we end up with two or three meals worth of stuff, so prorate it based on that.
We'll definitely go back, to try different things, to expand our vocabulary, to experience some authentic and excellent cuisine, carefully and thoughtfully prepared.

Popeye's Louisiana Kitchen

4103 First Missouri Credit Union Dr
St. Louis, MO

Web site


Angel saw a commercial, or something.
Adam said he'd join us since it was not far from his bunker , across the mighty Meramec river in South St. Louis County.
A couple of months ago, during the hunt for a decent fish sandwich, Angel would often bring up Popeye's 'squished fish patty on a bun' commercial comparing (wink, wink) a 'certain' fast food chain's square fish patty (McDonalds) as 'seafood' to Popeye's 'Butterfly Shrimp Tackle Box.'
"I like my squished fish patty on a bun!" she repeated, probably a hundred times.
She was not looking for seafood at Popeye's though, she wanted to try the chicken. I told her I'd take yet another one for the team and get something fishy.
The Place:

South County. I'm not sure that's an actual municipality or whether it refers to the general area that hugs the Mississippi between the Meramec and St. Louis City. The city itself is not in St. Louis  County, it is a county/city entity all its own. The county that surrounds the city is made up of over a hundred municipalities, some distinct, others merely a blur between stop signs.
This location is fairly new. It was clean and sparkly inside, in the way only polished plastic can sparkle. The motif, fast food modern. There was not any attempt to make it look like anything other than fast food.
Angel and I already studied the online menu and were pretty set in our order, Adam was starting from scratch. Finally we ordered, Angel first. My turn came, I was prepared. "Fish and shrimp combo with coleslaw and a small drink."
The young man repeated back. "Fish and shrimp combo?"
"Yes"
"What side with that sir?"
"Coleslaw."
"What size drink would you like with that?"
"Small."
We filled our drink cups, I found us a shiny plastic covered table.
The Food:
I sipped my tea. I quickly looked around for an alternative drink. The tea was old, metallic and bitter.
Nothing. I don't like sweet drinks, period, other than juices. You didn't know that about me?
We sat waiting, I looked around as I am wont to do during eatery reviews. Six tables occupied, three people waiting for take out / pick up.
After five or eight minutes of note taking and analysis, I looked around again. Six tables occupied, three people waiting for take out / pick up.
None of them had food.
More people came in and ordered and waited.
Something was wrong in the kitchen. Orders were backed up, all of them, no food going out at all, for nearly twenty minutes.
Probably out of cooked chicken, since that seems to be the flagship of the brand.
A twenty minute wait at a sit down, waited on at the table restaurant is no big deal. At a fast food joint, it's an eternity.
Finally we were served.
It was a really brown meal. At first we couldn't tell the orders apart. I figured out mine because of the popcorn shrimp.
Angel: Mild chicken and coleslaw.
Adam: Spicy chicken tenders and mashed potatoes.
We also ordered a couple of the apple pie for later.
All orders come with their 'signature' buttermilk biscuit.
We noticed something immediately. There was no coleslaw.
A lady from the counter stopped and asked about sauces. We mentioned the missing sides, she apologized and disappeared, only to return a moment later with the slaw.
She asked again about sauces. I looked around. "Tarter sauce please."
She asked Adam and Angel as well, they declined.
A couple of moments later, she came back with a couple of condiment packets in her hand. "Which sauce did you ask for again?"
"Tartar sauce please."
She looked at the packets, turned around and walked away.
She soon came back with the right stuff.

I then started sorting through my basket. One thin, scrawny piece of fish, two thin, scrawny pieces of fish. three, THREE thin, scrawny pieces of fish. . . 
That's it. If you look at the photo, you'll see three small, rectangular objects, that's the fish. The fillets were about a quarter inch thick, probably less. Broken apart it would all fit into one cube of an ice tray.
Easily half the portion, if that much, of that pathetic squished fish patty on a bun at that other fast food restaurant.
It was also tough, rubbery and dry. So thin that it overcooked browning the breading. The majority of the real estate in the basket was occupied by popcorn shrimp. Also overcooked and so heavily battered that the shrimp inside was little more than a condiment. I disassembled one to measure the breading vs. shrimp ratio.

Shrimp on the left, breading on the right.

Statistically, I had a basket full of fried flour. Had they been crispy rather than rubbery, I night have eaten more than three of the approximately half cup of fried flour balls.
The biscuit looked right, too right, as if it had been made by a robot. Too round, too flat surfaced on top and bottom. I looked around, all over the place and could find no butter being offered, I decided to go ahead, commando style.
Ah, they had buttered the top. . . not the middle, mind you, the top, then added salt to make it seem like there was more butter than there was. The effect was a dry, too salty biscuit. Even Adam picked up on that butter/salt trick.
About a tiny fillet and a half of fish, three bites of biscuit, and three fried flour nuggets, I tossed the rest away. I had about half the coleslaw, nothing special there, creamy, sweet, with an odd hint of some herb, dill, cilantro, something Angel couldn't quite describe it either, a little off putting, whatever it was.
Adam complained about the mashed potatoes. Apparently Popeye's claims a Louisiana spiced mashed potato. To Adam, this was sacrilege. Mashed potatoes aren't supposed to be spicy. "Mashed potatoes are already southern, why do they have to mess with that?" He screamed.
 Angel rather enjoyed her chicken, it had a touch of spiciness without getting silly.
Summary:

Here's a photo of what I didn't eat. I'm at an age and station in life that I will just not suffer lousy food. I'm hardly a gourmet or a food snob, but there are certainly standards, limits. My food was not good, none of it. I'd rather waste the six or seven bucks I paid for it than shove it into my face because it was in front of me. I figured I could go home and make a sandwich out of whatever was lying around and be much more satisfied than with this pile of abysmal fried flour coated, rubbery seafood scraps.
I'd rather eat Guy Fieri's lightly seasoned flip flop.
Like I said, Angel liked the chicken okay, the sides, not at all. Adam was at best, 'meh' about his. The consensus was that we could not think of any reason to ever go back. Better stuff is readily available, just about anywhere.

Los Portales

201 Main St.
Hillsboro, Mo.

Angel was in the mood for Mexican, 'nuff said. By any measure, Los Portales (LP) is the closest eatery to our house, beating out Hardee's by the width of one intersection. This place has been here since before we moved to Jefferson County ten years ago. So has Hardee's, but it says more about LP than a burger franchise. Hillsboro is not a big town. One or two thousand at most. Hillsboro was created to provide a more central county seat. Industries popped up along the river and the railroad tracks, neither of which run through Hillsboro. It's primary industry is county seat stuff, the courthouse, jail, various government offices and of course, lawyers and bail bond shops. Hillsboro does not even have a hotel or Walmart. There are a few strip malls, but with only a few exceptions, shops come and go in those fairly often.
So keeping an independent restaurant open for more than ten years is quite an accomplishment. It may have changed ownership, but I don't recall it ever not being open.
The Place:
We've actually been there several times. I don't always write about it for the same reason I don't write about Ruby Tuesday every time. At both places we get pretty much the same thing and enjoy what we have. It's hard to be fresh in a review doing that.
It's on the corner of Main and Business 21. You can't miss it, If you can see the courthouse and Hardee's, you're there.
An older building, perhaps a bit past its prime. You enter in the back and end up in the bar area. The main dining area is further forward towards the intersection. On a good day you can get a couple of bars of Hardee's WiFi. We were told to seat ourselves, there weren't many customers yet. We took a seat near a window, romantically lit by a bright, neon Corona sign.
Out came the chips and the menus, we were asked about drinks.
Angel, tea, Adam, Pepsi, and me? Sure, why not. . . "I'll have a Margarita please." My family looked at me like I'd just ordered an execution. The young man gave us a few minutes as we scanned the menu and cleaned out the basket of chips.
The Food:
We were ready, the young man came back with a fresh basket and his order pad.
Angel: Enchiladas Del Mar, her shrimp enchilada got-to.
Adam, also a favorite, a half order of Nachos Supreme, no tomatoes, por favor.
Me, time to shake it up again, "I'll have the Fish Tacos, good man."
Angel was stunned, she hadn't seen that. As you may remember, we've been looking for a decent fish taco. If any place was going to get it right, LP should be it. I didn't recall seeing it before, though the menus did look different as well. The old menu was quite cluttered and it may have gotten lost in the lists.

Overhead played soulful, passionate Mexican ballads, I've taken a liking to this form of music. The last thing I want in an 'authentic' Mexican restaurant is soft pop or country. This was completely appropriate and fit in well with the bright artwork and sombreros on the walls. As we sat I sipped my fruity Margarita.
I've had Margaritas before, though I can't seem to remember where and when. . . I've made my own, in fact, though rarely. There are only a few mixed drinks I can even stand, one being a New Orleans style Hurricane, a simple Screwdriver, and Margaritas. We don't keep vodka, tequila, etc. around the house, so it is fairly uncommon for us to imbibe in that manner.
The rim was heavily salted, the color was bright, the proportions of lime, lime juice, triple sec and tequila was spot on. There was one of these or some version of it at most of the tables. One table nearby went all in and ordered a pitcher.
Sweet, salty, fruity with a perfect twinge of bitterness. Wonderful.
Pretty soon the food arrived.
The offerings at LP look nothing like fast food. There is time and attention paid to the plates. My

plates (2) were more than I'd ever be able to finish. Three open-face soft tacos, loaded up with chopped lettuce, shredded white cheese, chopped fish, a sprinkling of fresh, chopped cilantro, and a small dose of a tomato salsa.
The second plate held the runny, oozy re-fried beans and the Mexican rice. I like to mix everything together, the two plates made this difficult. Also, I didn't need three tacos, one would have been perfect. My tummy has shrunk the past few years, I just can't eat as much at a sitting as I used to.

Angel's loosely wrapped enchiladas were laden with a beautiful red sauce. Alongside, on the same plate was a dollop of Guacamole and about that much rice. There's a plate you can swirl everything together. I've had enchiladas at LP in the past and that's exactly what I did with  them.
Adam's nachos did not look like anything you'd find at a ball park.
No glossy, plasticized cheese product, no, these had meat and real cheese, sprinkled with shredded lettuce and a splat of sour cream. They disappeared quickly.
As did Angel's enchiladas.
My tacos?  Not so much. I was  struggling after the first one. I rolled it up, cupped the backside and delighted in the combinations of taste and texture. Definitely fish, chopped up enough so it all didn't come out in one pull, the perfect tortilla, just a little pull, fresh and warm. The rice and beans, genuinely perfect.
Many Americanized Mexican franchises over do it with chili peppers, hot spices and flavors. Not here. LP offers up food like you'd imagine it might be on a working family's dinner table. No need to set the eater afire, it's comfort food, with plenty of light-touch flavors and a warmth, not a three alarm blaze.
I didn't even make it through the second taco. I used the foil on the plate to wrap up the third. I was satisfied, full. A perfect plate for me would have been on of these excellent tacos, the beans and the rice and of course, a couple of baskets of the chips and salsa.
Summary:
We were quite satisfied, all around. The tastes, the atmosphere and don't forget the price. All of this including the giant fruit drink, came to  a very modest thirty three dollars and change. The staff was on time, responsive and polite. The food was very satisfying and there was a very good variety of offerings.
I'm glad we have this place in Hillsboro. It represents the best of what privately owned and operated eateries have to offer.

Ruby Tuesday

1120 Shapiro Dr.
Festus, Mo.
On The Net

Earlier in the week I got word from Angel. "We have a Ruby Tuesday coupon."
Hint, taken.
Of all the franchise bar/restaurants, It's about the only one we go to very often. It's never been perfect, but it is only rarely terrible.
It was because of a very bad night at RT that we started looking for other places to eat back in 2009. You could say that Ruby Tuesday is the birthplace of Eat and Critique.
The Place:
It used to have walls lined with junk. Sports junk, iron tools, etc. Much like 'Chotchkies' in the movie 'Office Space'. They got rid of all that 'flair' a few years ago, painted the walls, toned it down a little.
It still has a central bar, but overall it is no longer an open invitation to frat-style rowdiness.
There are booths on the sides, a bar area, and an entry. Separating the bar from the entry is the world's best salad bar. This bar is why Angel likes going here. Meals are chosen to be compatible with a mega-load of salad.
A couple of young ladies greeted at the podium and chatted over charts, finally deciding to put us in pretty much the same booth as we always end up in.
Pretty soon, a young, energetic man stopped by asking for drink orders. We replied with the usual. He skittered away.
The Food:
I scanned the menu, Angel and Adam debated appetizers. I don't usually get involved in appetizer discussions, I only rarely partake. They usually want wings, which I do not care for.
When the young man delivered our drinks and Angel put in the appetizer order. I heard the word 'sampler'. Something must have caught her eye that Adam might not care for. That could be a lot of things.
It didn't take long before the menus were closed. In front of us were some of those luscious cheddar biscuits. I held off, I had a plan.
As we waited I noticed the tea glasses. Or rather mugs, worse, plastic mugs. I don't like drinking out of plastic cups. We have a few at home that I've never had a drink from. I'd rather drink from a Bundt pan than a plastic cup. That is usually not an option at restaurants though. I expect a plastic cup in lower end places. RT is not lower end. Besides, this was a cheaply made, faux beer mug. I'm sure RT has a bunch of actual glass mugs at the bar. . .
Seriously, like the Styrofoam cups at Savannah's Smokehouse last week, this sort of thing is one of those annoying little details that just set up for a 'beneath my price range' mood. I knew going in that this bill would be in the sixty five to seventy five dollar range. Give me an actual glass for Pete's sake!

 No time for that now though. We placed our entree orders:
Me: Top Sirloin, fries, salad bar.
Angel: New Orleans Seafood, Zucchini (blech!) and salad bar.
Adam: Rids and Chicken Tenders, with fries.
The young man almost got trampled in our rush to the salad bar. There's
nothing exotic at the bar, there's just a lot of variety, a whole lot. And lots of types of dressing as well. I loaded my plate up with a few greens, mushrooms, onions, cucumbers, peppers, cheese, bacon bits, egg, etc. Thousand Island dressing this eve'.
The appetizer tray arrived, four selections. Spicy wings as orange as expected. That color of orange is only found in one place in nature, traffic cones and barrels. I've never looked at a construction site and drooled for the flavor of anything that color. In the service, I once painted my office that color. The Inspector General was making the rounds and I'd read a report that said that this color is a people repellent.  It also causes headaches after a day or so.
Also on the tray were some un-spicy wings, miniature cheese logs, or something, and tiny Thai spring rolls.
This is apparently what caught Angel's eye. Adam would never touch one of those. I would though.
So I tried one. Not bad, not bad at all. Pretty darn good as a matter of fact. Angel agreed. That's the only thing I tried. Adam tore into the messy orange wings. They'd asked for the 'mild' version, Angel said it was still too spicy for her. Adam seemed to like it though. Most of the rest of the stuff ended up in a box, bound for Adam's lunch bag. He had to work that night.
I gulped down most of my gloppy salad, too much dressing again. It sure was good though.
Soon, too soon, the entrees arrived. This has been one of my complaints in the past. Badly timed courses. It doesn't happen every time, just often enough to be frustrating, leaving the table with too many plates and having to choose between abandoning or finishing the salad and appetizers while the entrees slid toward room temperature.

I pushed the salad plate aside. Steak trumps all.
I carved a sliver off the left side. The juices started flooding, threatening to drench the fries. I didn't care, the fries were an afterthought. I wanted steak. Besides, the fries weren't all that special anyhow, maybe an afterthought for the kitchen crew as well. Too much salt.
The steak did not cut easily. This worried me. I recalled having a problem like this at RT before. So I sawed through it with the finesse of a hyena. I was right, the steak was perfect, buttery, not tough to chew at all. For some reason, I doubt if it was concern for my safety, the steak knife was better suited for clubbing than slicing.
The steak itself though, was excellent. Not topped or sauced, just bare, naked, charred and bloody meat on my tongue. A little salt, a little pepper, a bit of butter and a flame. All a good cut of beef ever really needs. I saved a little though, to go with the cheddar biscuits. Sunday breakfast with steak, eggs and some of those little red potatoes I'd picked up at a produce stand earlier in the day.
Angel likes seafood. But I repeat myself. Her plate was packed with zucchini (blech!) and a tilapia filet coated in 'Parmesan cream sauce'  and drizzled with some shrimp. Mostly zucchini (blech!) though. Later in the meal I noticed the fish barely looked touched. "The sauce is too salty." She reported. Fortunately, the zucchini was good. I told her I sincerely doubted that. Zucchini, to me, is like Pleather. It's fake food. You use zucchini when there's nothing else available, or if you are trying to replace something on your plate with a more healthy, if not more disgusting, alternative.
"I'll order something less daring next time." She summarized.
I shared a sliver of steak with her. Yeah, it was good.
Adam, not surprisingly, didn't say much about his plate. He inherited a

double dose of introvert. Or is it introvert squared? Anyway, he doesn't say much about anything. For example, when asked if his messy batch of ribs was good, he answered: "It's ribs." He also finally said that he was not impressed with the fries. He struggled mightily and messily breaking down the ribs. He must have had an even duller knife than I did. They did provide extra napkins though, which was good since with him going after those ribs with a blunt instrument there was splatter, not unlike the front row at a Gallagher show, during the trademark sledge hammer  vs. watermelon bit.
I suppose the chicken was fine, he said nothing about that, but it did end up in his takeout box.
No dessert, thanks.
Summary:
If it sounds like a mixed review, well that's kind of typical for Ruby Tuesday. Some things are great, some, just not quite right. The bill came in under sixty five dollars, after a ten dollar appetizer coupon. I tipped the difference. The young man was most satisfactory, he kept the drinks refilled and was attentive to our desires, such as actually leaving out the ice when Angel asked for more tea 'without ice'. No complaints about Ryan S. (That's what the receipt says.)
Angel pointed out that the busing crew was MIA, a table beside ours hadn't been cleared the whole time we were there.
Details, those annoying little details.
And that's the thing. These issues are 100% laziness or mismanaged priorities. The awful plastic
mugs, the mis-timed serving, the lackluster fries and overly salty fish, nothing that required any actual recipe really popped. The steak was excellent, but that was 90% cut quality and only 10% skill. Details, details . . . at a price I don't really think worthy of such annoying details.
We'll go back, salad bar, and the steak is pretty good. But other offerings? We're still searching for go-to alternatives.

Home Shrimp

Once again, not a restaurant. Once again, winter weather and on-call. But we decided to make it count. Angel's birthday was coming up, this meal is something we've celebrated things like that for many years. Simple, easy, awfully decadent and satisfying.

We'd planned ahead, the only thing I needed to pick up this weekend was the dessert, which we'd just decided on.

I made the meal.

There was a steak on standby for when Adam got home from work, he doesn't like seafood.

The Food:

Shrimp, salad, garlic toast. Simple.

Of course the shrimp was frozen, this is middle America after all. Fortunately freezing shrimp does not change its taste and texture much. We get the de-veined (it's not really a vein) and shell-on. We picked up a big pot with a strainer and steamer basket a few years ago, this is pretty much the only thing we use it for. We'd let the sea bugs thaw in the lower part of the fridge most of the afternoon, it was thawed nicely by dinnertime.

Step one, turn on the oven and start the pot of water. Into the water I added salt and a heaping helping of Old Bay seasoning. While waiting, not watching, the water to boil, I prepped the toast. A loaf of fresh French bread from our local bakery (Walmart). I sliced half of it in about 3/4 inch slices and laid them out on the sheet pan that had been rubbed down with olive oil. This, I recently found, adds a subtle flavor kick to the finished toast. Using my press, I smashed a few cloves of garlic, sliced a stick of butter and set that in the microwave just long enough for the butter to melt completely. I let it set for a bit to soak up the garlic. This garlic/butter mix serves two purposes.

The first is to butter the bread. applied with a basting brush. Not too much, just a shiny sheen's worth.

The water was starting to boil so I set the steamer basket full of shrimp, which I'd salted and Old Bay'd as well, into it and covered it. The seasoning doesn't actually add a lot of flavor to the shell covered shrimp, but man, does it make the house smell good!

Time to prep the salad. 

The salad bar.

We rarely make family salads, rather we make our own mini salad bar. I chopped, sliced, washed and shaved red bell pepper, onion, cucumber, tomato and carrot. The greens, Romaine lettuce and spinach were chopped, washed and spun in our big salad spinner that we picked up at some sort of kitchen outlet store in southeastern Missouri, while on a drive back from Kentucky.

By this time The shrimp was pinking up nicely. I reduced the heat and let the residual steam finish it off.

The toast went into the oven, I spread the newspaper.

What?

Peeling shrimp is messy, let's not pretend otherwise. Sure, we use plates, but the peels go into a pile on laid out newspaper, it's just the way we've always done it.

I made sure Angel would be done with the current round of dog needs and noticed that this snowfall was piling up heavier than I'd thought it would. the boy was on the road by then. Angel had texted him and let him know that the roads and driveway were starting to get covered, He was driving home from Arnold, it would be a while.

Angel came in, removed about five layers of coats, gloves, scarves and hoodies, took off her fur lined boots while I prepared my plate.

I set the whole pot on a big cork coaster on the table, reheated the garlic butter just a bit and assembled my salad.

She followed soon, doing the same. Yeah, I'd made myself some fresh tea, one Luzianne teabag into my one cup coffee maker filled with bottled water (our tap water is highly mineral rich and clogs coffee makers in just a few months). Fill a big glass with ice and pour the hot brew over the top, done. Dark, tasty, fresh. If you don't make your tea this way, you are doing it wrong.

Then the wonderful messy part. The shrimp in the pot was almost too hot to handle, but we were really ready to start eating so we suffered thought peeling a bunch. I dropped my denuded bugs one at a time into the garlic butter. 

If your mouth is not watering heavily at this point then you are just an ignorant America-hater.

I'll admit that the toast had stayed in the oven for maybe a minute longer than it should have, a little crispier than I'd intended. That was Angel's fault though, she took too long coming in from outside.

It was still delicious though. Not drowning in butter or garlic or olive oil, but a pleasant, aromatic blend of the flavors. I'd topped my salad with a slightly sweet poppy seed dressing, to compliment the buttery, savory shrimp and toast.

We absolutely stuffed ourselves. There was certainly some shrimp left, but we could use that in the upcoming meals, on lighter salad days.

The taste, as you can imagine, was heavenly. 

The pile of shells had Rudy's undivided attention. he didn't get any. I do think he got a little steak later when Adam got home. Whenever he's upstairs and we're preparing a meal he can be found underfoot. He's discovered that Angel and I are somewhat clumsy and tend to drop things. He's an opportunist.

I post a lot of pictures of Rudy on the social media. He's quite expressive and comical. People ask me what kind of dog he is. I'm tired of saying 'it's complicated' or 'I don't know'. He's a mutt, a mix of unknown lineage. He doesn't really look like any one breed, which is fine with us since 'breed' is not a scientific term anyhow, it's just a set of standards voted on by kennel clubs so they can be on a register and can be inbred for a high price. But don't get me started on that soap box. I've decided that he's a Kasehund. Which is, roughly, German for 'cheese hound'. Friends and followers of him on social media will get the cheese reference for Rudy. Why German? Because Queso Pero (Spanish) and Fromage Chien (French) just didn't sound right. 

Dessert:

We didn't have dessert with the meal, that would be for later, after another round of dog stuff. I'd

picked up a pre-made New York cheesecake while at the local bakery (Walmart) earlier. I don't have the patience to learn how to make a consistently good cheesecake at home. Plus there's no real reason to. The ingredients cost nearly as much as a pre-made cake. 

For the topping, I'd also picked up a bag of frozen whole blueberries. This I could do. Put a little butter in a small skillet, toss in blueberries, add just a little sugar, let heat, then smash with a spatula. Done. Serve with a fresh cup of coffee. . .Mmm, mmm good! 

There is very little in this world I love more than blueberry cheesecake. Not even Angel rises to this level. It's okay, Angel's always known this. It gives her a goal. A standard to try to live up to. 

Happy Birthday Dear!

Oriental Buffet vs. Hibachi Grill

Sometimes comparisons are inevitable.
About a year ago, Hibachi Grill in Festus opened, a mere mile from the Oriental Buffet. We'd been going to the latter for several years, it was small, but they seemed to get the things we like best about right.
When the Hibachi Grill opened, I was worried for the smaller place.
The many Hibachi Grills around the region look the same, large and imposing, with similar interiors styles and offerings, but they are not a franchise outfit. It's more of a shared business model. Each one is independently owned and operated. If there is collusion between them, it apparently happens behind closed doors. All the four or five HG's I'v been to looked, tasted and seemed the same.
OB is, by all appearances also independently owned and operated. It is at the end of a modest strip mall. HG took over a failed Ryan's Steakhouse. A massive free standing building.
HG's have bigger, much bigger, buffet lines. They not only offer Americanized (breaded and fried) Chinese food, which is after all, what we want when we want Chinese, but it also serves a lot of American American things like pizza slices, macaroni, etc. Strip away the non-Chinese serving lines at HG and you'll discover they serve pretty much the same stuff as OB.
HG also caters to big crowds, OB is a bit more intimate, more sit down restaurant like.
So this three day weekend we decided to do a side by side comparison. Was OB holding up despite the Goliath on the nearby hill? Was Hibachi sacrificing quality for quantity?
Let's find out.

Oriental Buffet
774 Truman Blvd
Festus, Mo.

The Place:
At the end of a strip mall Just South of  Highway A. A few years old, but holding up well. The strip mall is anchored by an always busy Aldi's on one end, along with hair places, a big $1 store, the usual stuff.
I noticed walking in that it had not changed much in the year or so since my previous visit. Well lit, nicely decorated, clean and neat. There were the requisite gaudy red, gold and jade objects sitting around, not cluttered though. There were about a dozen tables occupied, maybe 1/3 capacity. This is pretty much the level of occupancy I recall from earlier visits.
We were greeted by a young lady who happily led us to a booth and took our drink orders while we were walking. This proved very efficient since by the time we got to the booth we didn't even bother to sit, we just dropped of our jackets and went straight to the line. I admired the table tops, a large piece of traditional art and calligraphy.
As before, there were a half dozen young people dressed in black pants and white shirts scurrying around the floor, bussing tables, reloading the serving line, refreshing drinks. To my ear they all treated English as very much a second language.
Overhead though, the music was different. It was very low volume, so I couldn't quite put my finger on it. It was definitely a western hemisphere key though. Not the exotic Asian key and instruments that I recalled from a previous visit.
The Food:

We pretty much always get the same things at Chinese buffets, to each of us, our own favorites. I spread it out, just a couple of nuggets each of General Tsao and other chickens, Black Pepper, Teriyaki, etc. Some Beef from the broccoli and beef, and some pepper steak, a few standard shrimp, then some noodles and fried rice, and finally a must-have, a Crab Rangoon.
Angel 's plate had some of those things, but also included an egg roll,
chicken on a stick and green beans.
I like those things too, but the egg roll and stick chicken, were, compared to the other things I had, quite large. Adam's plate looked paler. Broccoli, plain rice, and a Chinese doughnut along with his General Tsao's. Adam doesn't care for fried rice because of the little vegetable chunks they put in it.
There was nothing scary or new on my plate, like I said, we all get pretty much the same thing every time. This was going to be a test of quality, taste and freshness of things we knew well, not an experiment. We would very likely be getting very similar things at HG.
I picked an poked around my variety, tore open the rangoon and let the innards melt on my tongue. It was sweeter than at some places, but not bad, barely any crab taste  at all. The wrapper was crispy on the top and sides, but suffered a little under the liquid load on the bottom. The only place we've found that can prevent their bottoms from getting soggy, was at Lucky China in Arnold. Those at Lucky were the best tasting we'd ever had as well. But these were quite acceptable.
Angel immediately remarked on the freshness of the stick chicken. I asked her if it was dry, as they often tend to be and she said that it was actually moist. Then she pointed to the green beans and said they too were fresh and perfectly cooked. I began to notice the same thing. All the meats were tender and moist. None seemed overcooked or suffered from sitting too long in a steamer tray. That's a problem common in many buffets, food that is kept warm often tends to continue cooking and toughen or dry up. This did not seem like that at all. Even the beef strips fell apart with a gentle pull. The only disappointment for me, and it wasn't a big one, was that the noodles were a bit overcooked, but they were tasty. Nothing was too spicy, or too bland or too sweet, the recipes and preparation at OB was solid. For my second round, unlike what I used to do before my stomach shrank, which was to go back and get two or three of my favorite things, I went straight for the dessert round. The desserts I like at Chinese buffets are hardly traditional, I like the bananas in red sauce topped with banana pudding. I noticed they also had Fig Newtons, another thing I'm rather fond of, so I grabbed one of those as well. Angel grabbed a couple more chicken chunks and some more green beans, some shrimp and added a couple of the rangoons. "Rangoons are kind of like dessert." She said. I nodded, they were kind of sweet at OB.
Summary:
Overall we were quite pleased. A little surprised too, that the quality had not suffered since our last visit, and in fact seemed to be improving. The freshness was notable, but also indicative of a well run, successful restaurant, the dining area was very neat, meticulously cleaned and the staff was plentiful and on the job. Empty plates were taken away and tables were bussed, cleaned and prepped very quickly.
The place never really filled up, but those that were there seemed happy and content. The bill came to a modest and predictable thirty four dollars and change.
Not bad, not bad at all.

Hibachi Grill
331 North Creek Dr.
Festus, Mo.

The Place:
Hibachi Grill took over the former Ryan's Buffet about a year ago. It's big place, easily three times bigger than Oriental Buffet. Hibachi Grills are designed and operated to feed a lot of people. Saturday nights the place is usually packed. On those nights it seems almost industrial, like a busy cafeteria.
It too has the gold and red bric-a-brac on shelves. It also has large statues, reminiscent of the famed Terracotta Army. We were greeted by a young man lady who took us back to a booth/table. He too asked about drinks on the way. Once again we didn't even sit, we went straight to the lines. The decor is a bit loud and gaudy, only on a larger scale. The carpet was very dark, worn and industrial, it robbed from the ambiance, making it seem less polished and clean. The tables were not nearly as ornate, plain faux-marble laminate. The Music overhead was more talk than music. It was a radio station pushed by industrial speakers into an acoustically challenged space. Static, poorly equalized noise. The sound bounced around the high ceiling so much that I couldn't make out the actual words very often. Bad idea.
There were, as promised, more serving lines. Hibachi Grill has one thing that OB doesn't, a Mongolian Barbecue station. I've taken advantage of that before, picking my own combination of meats, veg, noodles and sauce. It's hard to go wrong when you pick your own ingredients. I skipped it this visit.
The Food:
Sure enough, even though there were a lot more buffet lines, all three of us picked out pretty much the same
things. I added a thing or two, like a stuffed crab and 'butter shrimp' just to try them, but other than that, some fried rice, noodles, a couple each of several beefs and chickens and a crab rangoon. The rangoons were noticeably smaller, more like won tons. That's not a bad thing, just a style thing. I like them both ways, the big fat ones can be kind of messy. The meats I got were very close to the same selections from OB. General Tsao, pepper, etc. Also the pepper steak and a slug of thin meat from the broccoli and beef.
Angel and Adam pretty much did the same, even though I had not prompted them to do so. Angel had the egg roll, the chicken on a stick, green beans. Along with that she added some cheesy crab dish and some stuffed mushrooms.
Adam had the chicken, the plain rice, the doughnut, and broccoli.
Selection was where the similarities ended.
My fried rice was, for lack of a better word, mushy. Too wet, it doughed up in my mouth. I can't really comment on the taste since the texture was too off-putting to notice. The noodles were better cooked than at OB but there wasn't any real flavor to them. The chickens, as I had feared, seemed tough and dry, the beef chewy. The rangoon wrapper was not crisp, but not soggy either, sort of stale, very much like chewing on a business card. Once again the texture was enough of a deficit that I can't really speak to the taste.
The extras, the stuffed crab was inedible. The taste was weird, I can't put my finger on it, but once again it was the texture that really killed it. It was gritty, like they sprinkled about a tablespoon of fine sand in with the stuffing. The butter shrimp was neither buttery or shrimp-y. It looked
like salad shrimp with a crust of some kind, but it came out more greasy breading than anything. The green peppers in the sauces all looked pale and seemed a bit tough. the General's chicken was the only thing, other than the real shrimp, that I finished on this plate.
Angel commented the the stick chicken was dry and tough. She admitted that things didn't seem as fresh. Adam shrugged his shoulders.
They were confused. They had eaten there just a week before, without me since I worked that weekend, and said that meal was just fine, much better than this. It wasn't just one or two things, she said.

I made a second run, mostly because I hadn't wanted to eat most of what was on my first plate. I saw some chicken I'd missed before, something called 'Hibachi Chicken' with a green pepper and sauce topping. I also grabbed anther Rangoon to see if the previous one had just been a dud. I hadn't asked Angel about the cheesy crab, so I got a little of that. Then I went ahead and stepped up to the dessert line and plopped down some bananas in . . . . wait a minute, is that sauce . . . orange? Oh well, I topped it with some banana pudding. Just like before.
Angel picked up a few things too, including a stuffed shrimp and some chocolate pudding.
The cheesy crab was awful. It tasted fishy, and not in that good way. The chicken was pretty good though, a little fresher and more tender than the others. Still, the peppers were pale and tough. Overall the best chicken offering that evening. The previous rangoon had not been a fluke, this one too was stale. The red/orange sauce was a little odd, but not terrible, the good news is that the banana pudding was very good, more like the old fashioned kind mom used to make before instant pudding was invented. More vanilla wafers, layered, as well. Angel commented that her pudding was better here as well.
Summary:
The bill came in at a slightly higher thirty nine dollars vs. thirty four, not really enough to squirm about. The service was at least as efficient, plates disappeared quickly. The tea was old, like OB's so no winner there. It should be pretty plain from this review, the whole ordeal was a bit disappointing.

Conclusion:
Well it probably seems clear at this point, and in fact it was unanimous consent, that Oriental Buffet was the winner of this round, by a large margin.
I said 'this round' though. Adam and Angel truly seemed baffled about the fact that they could not believe the difference between the two week-apart meals they'd had at Hibachi. Thinking about it, I had a hunch. We went to Oriental Buffet on a Saturday. Hibachi Grill on a Monday. As I mentioned earlier, on Saturday nights the place is usually packed. On this visit, there was no competition with crowds, a lot of empty tables between diners. HG's food was not being turned as quickly and was sitting much longer than on a Saturday. Hibachi has a lot more food offerings, though a great deal of it is American food, meat loaf, pizza, grilled steak, macaroni and cheese, etc. the kitchen has a lot more work to do to turn out that big variety. Whereas OB concentrates on a much smaller range of food and can tend to that and make more frequent and smaller batches.
So the moral of the story is that if you want to go to Hibachi Grill, go there when it is really busy. Oriental Buffet on the other hand is more consistent exactly because it serves fewer things to fewer people.

Epilouge:
After the meal on Saturday, we had to stop on the way home to give witness statements to the Festus Police and the Highway Patrol. We had stopped at an intersection yielding to oncoming traffic, unlike the guy in the Jeep in front of us. He got slammed by a big pickup going full on through his solid green light. The poor kid in the pickup told me after I called 911 and checked on the drivers, that this was his dad's truck as his own had been stolen earlier in the week. (sad) No one was injured, just two vehicles totaled and a mess of fluids, glass and plastic bits all over the roadway.
On Monday as we got to the Hibachi Grill, as I usually do, I stepped out of the car to take a photo of the signage. I took two as the first one was a bit distant. After we had our disappointing meal we stepped back out to the vast, but mostly empty parking lot to see that the SUV's passenger door, my door, was standing open. Yeah, I'd been so eager about the photo that I forgot to close the door. Nothing was stolen or damaged, just a little embarrassing. I only mention it at all because Angel said I had to mention it or she'd sue me or something. She mumbled something about all the previous times I'd pointed out silly and embarrassing things she's done, though  I don't recall ever doing that.