Applebee's

673 Gravois Bluffs Blvd.
Fenton, Mo.
On the web.


We had options. Gravois Bluffs is a shopping area, I've mentioned it several times before. Along the row in front of the big box stores on the south side of highway 141, is a long line of restaurants, a dozen or more. Most, if not all, chain restaurants you've heard of.
Our actual destination was on the north side of the road, even more stores and restaurants there. We were on a quest. We had decided that we needed new dinnerware. Like many working families, our plates and bowls are mismatched, chipped and diminishing in numbers. Angel had been thinking about it and decided that we should just go ahead and replace the war-weary collection. A store that once had nice dinnerware, Gordman's was on the north side of the highway, in the shadow of the bluffs. Angel recalled that there was an Applebee's in that same shopping center.
She's recovering from foot surgery but can now get around for short periods in her 'boot' without crutches or the now-abandoned knee scooter. Driving long distances is problematic for her since the boot is so bulky that once in place under the dashboard, there's very little wiggle room, her leg and foot stiffen up. So I drove her in her Trailblazer.  I commute in a little VW Jetta. I like my small, reliable, efficient little car. Her SUV feels massive in comparison. I rarely drive it. But I soldiered up and offered to drive. She stretched out on the passenger side, an ideal position to complain about my
overly cautious and timid driving style. She didn't nag, but I could hear the frequent sighs.
The Place:
The shopping center is very busy, but Applebee's didn't seem crowded. I cautiously and timidly parked the battleship near the door. A member of the wait staff opened the door for us as we approached. They seated us in the central dining area, near the bar, at a bistro style table.
Asked for drinks, Angel asked for sweet tea, I grumbled and settled for the un-sweet version.
I'd really like to find something else to drink on these trips, tea is almost always a disappointment at restaurants.
I looked around, typical, ubiquitous, 80's chain sports bar. TV's playing sports on every wall, thankfully muted. The overhead music came through scratchy, distributed (100 volt) institutional ceiling speakers. Those things are fine for low volume 'Muzak' but lousy for contemporary, bass-heavy pop or rock. I could explain why this is, but will spare you for the time being.
The Food:
I'd scanned the online menu earlier in the day so I'd already narrowed it down a short list of possible choices. Angel didn't seem to have any problem deciding either. I sipped on the tea, which was surprisingly good. Clear, bright, fresh. It could have been a little stronger, but for restaurant tea this was quite good.
I'd briefly considered the fish and chips, until I remembered a 'note to self': If fish and chips is not featured prominently on the menu, skip it, just walk away. Nobody seems to get the fish right at all the places I've ordered it in the past. Applebee's had it buried well down in the 'yeah we have this stuff too, if you insist' section.
The gentleman who would be our server asked for our orders, Angel took the lead.
Shrimp 'n Parmesan  Sirloin with grilled veggies and garlic mashed potatoes.
Me: Grilled Onion Sirloin and Stout Gravy with crispy red potatoes. (from the 'Lighter Fare' page)
As we waited I noticed that two of the muted TV's were not showing actual sports, they were instead showing a guy talking. I assume about sports, but for a half hour or more it was just this guy talking, on a muted TV, with no closed captioning. Not surprisingly, I could

find no one watching those 2
TVs. Frankly, it didn't appear that anyone was watching the football game on the other TV's either. I wish these places would tune at least one or two TV's to something else other than sports.
The wait was not especially long, another server brought out our plates.
Mine looked exactly like the photo in the menu. A six ounce steak, which, to me, is the perfect size for a steak, and a generous spread of crispy red potatoes. The 'Stout gravy' was an unknown. It was pretty though, the color of molasses, just not quite as thick, sweet and disgusting.
Angel's steak was a little bigger and topped with shrimp. It looked pretty good. The mixed veggies were off-putting though, one word: squash.
Yes I have tried squash, lots of kinds, lots of ways. No, just no. I cannot un-remember that distinctive, sickening taste. Go ahead and enjoy it if you like, but for me, it's just no.
The server demanded we cut into our steaks to check that the done-ness was as desired. I went medium this night, sometimes I'll go a bit pinker, but was in the mood for just a little more firmness this time around. Neither of us had any complaints. The server asked if we wanted steak sauce, I gave her my standard reply. "Not if you did the steak right."
We didn't need any sauce.
I cautiously dipped a red tater into the dark brown gravy and gave it a shot.
I was not disappointed. I savored it. I could detect meat drippings, au jus, and something, something. . . .oh yeah 'Stout' as in beer. It wasn't all beer-y, it had been cooked down quite a bit. It was heavenly. It had a deep, dare I say manly flavor. Steak drippings and beer on top of steak and potatoes. . . oh yeah.
Angel was going to town on hers as well. Then something quite remarkable happened. We both openly expressed how pleased we were with or meals. Not just a little, but quite pleased indeed!
I almost hated to admit it. We really, really liked the food.
Summary:

I had managed expectations about Applebee's, it has disappointed before. I can't say much about the service, it could have been a little more attentive  and consistent, but no one was rude, nor did they botch the order.
On the table was a touch pad terminal. I'm not a gadget-guy, so it didn't interest me much. Angel poked on it a little. You could pay to play a game, pay your bill, order stuff, things like that. Of course Angel can play games on her own phone for no charge, no need to fork over $1.69 or whatever it was. The original server brought us the check, but Angel wanted to pay on the terminal. It knew what this table had ordered and it asked if we wanted to split the ticket. I guess that's cool, settle that fight with your co-workers while everyone's still sitting there.
She didn't split our check though, since we're in love and married and stuff. It's how we roll. The bill came to $41.25, a very respectable price for a fantastic meal.

Fountain City Grill

302 N. Main Street
Desoto, Mo.
On the web
Facebook

One of our favorite places. Angel suggested it, no debate occurred.
A pretty early Spring day, I'd had a chance to do my first cemetery visit this season. It was a bit sad though, this was a county paupers cemetery. Only one headstone among scores of unmarked, budget-friendly graves, buried by county maintenance crews, cardboard coffins, no attempt to pretty up the place. It looked more like an abandoned construction site than a cemetery.
But the sun was out, the birds were in full voiced lust since early morning.
The drive into Desoto was pretty quiet. No particular reason for that, just that the three of us are quite comfortable with prolonged periods of silence.
The Place:
There was only one other table occupied when we arrived, it wasn't quite 5 P.M. though. It would fill up in no time.
The place is absolutely classy looking. This wasn't decorated and designed by somebody's in-laws as a favor, this was professionally done. A modest jazz theme, black on white decor and furnishings, on a polished oak floor.
We were told to sit anywhere, so we did. Angel found us a four top in the back, by the bar.
Above the bar, two TV's were mounted, one with volume up, though not too loud, CNN, some lady pundit whining about something or the other. The other was muted and showing, of all things, basketball. Who would imagine that you could find a college basketball game on TV in March?
We were immediately greeted by a cheerful looking Jenna.
She dropped off menus and a basket of rolls, wrapped in a fluffy black hand towel. We quietly shouted our drink request, I asked for fresh brewed tea, unsweet. Angel looked at me oddly, I pointed to the front page of the menu where it listed, right there in black and white, 'Fresh Brewed Tea',
She then ordered the sweet version, Adam asked for pop.
The Food:

I had studied ahead of time, I was going to do something a bit different.
Last time, about six months ago I had an awesome grilled pork chop. I'd had the steak there before as well.
Angel pointed to the appetizer section, noting the 'Duck Spring Rolls'. We've been trying to find duck served somewhere, this sounded like a good start. Adam would have nothing to do with duck, so we asked for toasted ravioli as well.
The tea came quickly, Jenna was on her toes. Well, mostly. She turned around after taking our order and ran smack in to another table. "That table is never there!" She explained, while Chef Tremayne stood there and laughed out loud.
We'd met the chef on previous visits. A class act, a real pro. A seriously good kitchen master and friendly and easy to laugh as well.
Jenna bounced back in no time though. The appetizers came out in just a few minutes.

Beautiful little spring rolls, served with two sauces. One a sweet and spicy, the other one spicier and more Asian in seasoning and flavor. I stuck with the sweet and spicy. There was a distinct crispiness to them, no greasiness at all. As a good spring roll should be, it was light. The duck was ground and blended with mild seasoning and herbs. It definitely wasn't chicken or pork, but since we don't know what duck is supposed to taste like, we just agreed we liked them. We left the ravioli for Adam, we already knew they were good, we'd reviewed them before.
We ordered our entrees.
Me: Bacon cheeseburger and fries.
Angel: Sirloin steak, garlic mashed potatoes, house salad.
Adam ordered the Blazin' Burger, described as: Fresh ground beef mixed with a fiery blend of seasonings, topped with grilled onions, jalapenos and pepperjack cheese. "No onions or peppers, please." Adam told Jenna. Adam likes spicy, but not over the top spicy.
Yeah, a burger. Since I'd had more exercise that day than I'd had in several months, I had an afternoon snack. I wasn't ready for a steak or a big pasta dish. I knew the burgers at FCG were thin, so I could probably handle that.

Angel's steak order was a little unexpected. I surmised she was in full carnivore mode this day. It happens.
As we waited, the same musical duet that had come in and set up at our previous visit came in and started setting up. Two guitars, a big set of bongos. "Sugar Moon", they call themselves. We'd be gone before they started, just like the last time.
We finished off our spring rolls, sat back and just relaxed.
Then the food came.
Just as expected, pretty. Square white, pristine plates, no sprigs of greens or glitter or swooshes of sauce. Even the burgers looked a little uptown served like that. Angel's steak and potatoes looked sparse and tidy.

FCG, by default, slathers mayo on hamburgers. When Jenna told me this I made a righteously offended face and grunting noise. "No mayo then?" She asked.
"I'm an American, don't you have mustard?"
"I could bring you some."
I let it go at that. Good enough, but seriously, do I look Canadian?
The burger was piled high with a lettuce I didn't recognize, it looked smaller and rougher edged than iceberg.It was also remarkably fresh and crisp. the tomato was a bit pale, understandable, off season. The two rings of red onion would be just about the perfect portion. The burgers are balled then smashed on the grill. You can always tell. The thinner edges get crispy and delicious that way. I put good ol' American yellow

mustard on it, smashed it closed, then cut it in half. It was bigger, for the lettuce, tomato, etc, than I had anticipated. The fries were thick and cooked just to the point of getting crispy. This meant they would have a soft inner texture, yet stand up when held. They were also searing hot.
Adam's burger was similar in appearance. He got rid of the tomato. The cheese on his was pepper-jack. As for the 'blazing' aspect, he said it was more Cajun tasting than anything else. This is not a bad thing for Adam.
We didn't hear much from Angel during the meal. She indeed was in full-carnivore mode. That steak was gone before I finished half my burger. Sure it was just an 8oz. sirloin, but it was thick. She'd ordered it medium rare and that is what it was. She made pleased grunting sounds the whole time. When she finished it, her plate looked like that place on the highway after the deer carcass has been recently hauled away. Knife still in her hand, I did not say anything to her about what I'd just witnessed her do to that steak and the peculiar vicious glimmer still in her eyes.
When she started using her words a few minutes later, she described the steak."Very tender, perfectly cooked."
I knew she liked it. When Jenna offered her steak sauce, Angel declined with a grunt. That's how you know when a steak is good, when you don't need to put any sauce on it.
Jenna stopped by, asked if we needed a third or fourth tea refill, we said no. She asked about dessert, we also said no thanks. Looking at my remaining half burger, she offered a box, that received an affirmative response. Indeed that afternoon snack had zapped my appetite.
Summary:
As I said at the start, Fountain City Grill is among our favorite places. That did not change with this visit. As I was boxing up the leftovers, Chef Tremayne stopped at each table and greeted everyone. I like this man. He's nothing like those hot headed chefs you see on TV. During our meal he even personally served one table their entrees, the growing crowd had started to tax Jenna, the only server on the floor.
The tab came to fifty seven bucks. Sports bar pricing, perfectly acceptable considering the quality of the food at FCG makes Applebees look like McDonalds in comparison.
Everything, except maybe the mayo on the burger, is exactly right about FCG. The service, the food, the offerings, the attention to detail and freshness, the casual, friendly service, all of it works beautifully.
As we left and were approaching the car We heard a voice from behind, calling us.
"You forgot your box, sir!" It was Chef Tremayne, running to hand me my leftovers.
Told you, a real class act.

Trattoria Giuseppe

5436 Hwy 21
Imperial, Mo.

On Facebook
On the web

By now, we shouldn't need to explain why we decided to go to Trattoria Giuseppe. It is our favorite place to eat in Jefferson County, it has been since we first went there several years ago. It's a little more expensive than most places we go, but it is worth it.
On the way we struck up a conversation about a very unusual occurrence in our lives. The previous evening while watching 'Glee' (don't judge me) one of the new kids performed a song that I recognized.*
"Oh, I love this song!!" I said.
"I don't know this song." Angel replied.
That struck me as very odd. You know by now that I do not listen to contemporary music often, so it was strange that I would have ever had the opportunity to recognize a popular song that she'd not already known about. So I struggled to figure out where I could possibly have heard it. I figured it out eventually.
On the drive to the restaurant Angel asked Adam if he knew it, giving him the name of the song and mangling the artist's name.
"Doesn't ring a bell." He answered. This made me giddy.
So Angel handed me her smart cellular telephone and talked me through the icons to get to a browser.
I dialed up the Youtube and played it.
After a minute or so, Adam replied that no, he'd never heard it before either.
"How is it possible that you've heard a song before we did?" He added.
NPR
Well, actually because of St. Louis Public Radio, not on it. The previous week had been rattle-the-tin-cup week for the public station. At least half of every hour is devoted to begging, cajoling, and guilt-tripping. I can't stand it. I know they have to do this, but because I have options, I don't have to listen to it for the nearly three hours a day I spend in the car. So on button 2 on my VW's  radio, I have a local station that also is mostly talk and news, though with a decidedly and sometimes wildly, more conservative perspective. It's not so much that I disagree with many or most conservative positions, it's more the tone and tactics that usually repulse me from most conservative talk shows. In the afternoons on this station there's a local guy who is at least more realistic and less pompous than some of the nationally known pundits and often he talks about movies and other things.
After I pondered for quite a while, it dawned on me that the local show was  using this song as the bumper music after the news break. I'd never heard the whole song, but I definitely knew the chorus.
Angel has already ordered a CD, she really liked it too. Adam was less impressed.
The Place:
TG is oddly, out in the middle of nowhere. It's not in Imperial, just the post office designation for this
particular area is in Imperial's coverage zone. It's on old highway 21, off of M.
It's an old, single story building, an early strip mall configuration.
Inside the place is rustic, but clean.
Its low ceilings and three dining rooms make it feel cozy and homey. We were greeted by a mature lady and handed over to Ashley, the young, pony-tailed hostess. We had forgotten to make reservations so we were fortunate that it was early. She led us to a four top next to the window in the 'space available' section near the front. I called it this because it seemed that the three or four tables in this area were separate from the bigger dining areas and it felt like we were in 'coach' for this flight.
Which didn't concern us too much, even a less than desirable location inside TG's is better than most other places' places. The service has always been exceptional and the food always well above par.
Within a minute or two, Tony, a handsome young man stopped, introduced himself and set a basket of bread in front of us. He then recited the special, some kind of cheesed and sauced steak that sounded good, but very, very rich and heavy.
We asked for drinks, Tea, tea, Pepsi.
After only a moment, Angel set her menu aside. She poured olive oil into a saucer to dip her bread. I did as well, but I also dashed it with some black pepper. The bread was fresh, soft and tasty.
I finally narrowed it down to two dishes, one pasta, one steak and left it at that until I actually told Tony what I wanted.


The Food:
Angel asked for spaghetti and meatballs, with the house salad.
Adam went next with a peppered sirloin steak, baked potato and house salad.
I opened my mouth and asked for New York strip, house salad and baked potato.
We'd not had S&M at TG's before. I should have thought of it, I've tried that dish at a few places just to see how the places hold up with a fairly simple, old standard.
    The wait for the salads was not long. Guiseppe makes a salad good enough to write to your mom about. That may seem a little over the top, but trust me, it's not. Iceberg lettuce, cherry tomatoes, red onion, artichoke heart, dark olives and a small pepper. He tosses this with a house made vinaigrette. That vinaigrette is what sets the salad as a standout. Not too sweet, oily or vinegary. The taste is difficult to pin down. It is not strongly one thing or another. Rather than a single note taste, like Ranch, French and most of the others, this is a perfectly harmonic blend of flavors and spices where there is no single dominant flavor, it's like a chord on a multi-stringed instrument. You hear all the individual notes, but yet didn't.
Adam plucked the tomatoes, olives and onions off of his. I took the tomatoes and scooted my olives and artichoke over to Angel.
As we ate, I noticed the overhead music, not too loud, big bands and Italian-ish crooners mostly. I can live with that. I've made a few CD's for Angel from my own big band collection. She says the dogs like it better than most other music.
I also noticed a framed movie poster over my right shoulder. Fellini's 'La Dolce Vita.' Translated, that means 'The Sweet Life'. Not that the translation matters, only 'Fellini' matters to movie snobs. It's supposed to be one of the ten best movies ever made. I don't know why, there are  no shootouts or gratuitous explosions. About the only interesting thing about the film is that one character, Paparazzo a news photographer, is the source of the word Paparazzi, the word used in many countries to label intrusive photographers.
The salads, finished off and set aside, we waited. Not too long of a wait, just a fancy restaurant wait. Tony kept an eye on us though, our drinks were never allowed to get more than halfway drained before the next refill showed up.

When the food finally arrived, we were more than ready for it. A foil wrapped potato and a thick, charred steak covered with about a quart of garlic butter. Three condiment packs of butter and one of sour cream lay beside the wrapped spud. I peeled away the foil and the tops off of the condiments and inverted them on top of the steamy potato. Once it had softened up I carved up the potato and folded in the creaminess. With almost religious reverence I carved my first chunk of the steak. Oh yeah, dreamy. Butter tender, perfectly pink, and meaty and juicy. As always, the potato was perfect.
Adam plowed through his smaller sirloin rather quickly. I could tell by the fact that he didn't say a word from start to finish that his was heavenly as well.

   He was able to finish his, I stopped about two thirds in. Not a problem, you're probably thinking the same thought. 'Sunday breakfast.' Oh yeah.
Every bite of the meat was divine. It's not that hard to cook a thick steak, but the quality of the cut is critical. This was not your dad's backyard grilled shoe leather.
Angel's spaghetti pile was, as is typical in many Italian places, enormous. More in her platter than I usually make at home for the whole family. However, unlike many other places, there was enough sauce to cover it so that there would be some for all the pasta. You know what this means. Sunday breakfast.

She shaved off a corner of one of the golf sized meat balls and laid it on my plate. Man oh man, that was a tender, tasty meatball. A beautiful blend of meats, not dry or gritty at all. Beautifully assembled and cooked. The sauce was amazing. If I didn't know better I'd say that the tomatoes for the sauce as well as the herbs had only been picked that day. The ingredients screamed 'fresh' and bright. But my God, there was a lot of it. Too much really. As I write this, even after Angel's Sunday breakfast, there's still quite a bit left. This is, of course a silly criticism, but it really was too much for any single human. Half this much would have been more than generous.
As my only criticism, I suppose that's not so bad.

Summary:
Yeah, it's a bit pricey. The steaks were over twenty bucks each, the S&M about thirteen. With just the three dishes and tea/Pepsi, the tab came in at just under seventy five dollars. That's pretty much more than we spend anywhere else, so we can't afford to go there as often as we like, but every time we do, it seems well worth the price.
Giuseppe has a great thing here. He not only knows his food, but he knows how to run a restaurant. The staff is always professional, sharp and competent. Rarely does something go wrong.
He's also a gentleman and a professional in his own right. We've never been there when he didn't come out and go table to table to personally thank the diners. You can see the pride on his face. He has every right and reason to be proud. He's brought and maintained a high level of dining to the rural Jefferson County hills.
Trattoria Giuseppe, still number one in  my book.







* "Take me to Church"
Hozier version.
Glee version.

Ruby Tuesday

1120 Shapiro Dr.
Festus, Mo.

Updated:   See the note from Ruby Tuesday Corporate at the bottom of this post! * * * * 


That's right loyal fans, this is our 200th review.
Four years.
It was no contest, we had to go back to where it all started, Ruby Tuesday. Our first review was not at this place, it was instead because of a truly disappointing meal at Ruby T's that we decided to start going other places. Thus, eatandcritique was born.
Ruby T's has proven to be able to pull off exceptional meals. Even their worst effort is better than many places, but they set the bar for themselves very high.
The Place:
Above the interstate and below Lowe's. Not as kitschy as some chains like them, not anymore anyhow. A big bar, lots of seating, a couple of TV's playing sports.The music was safe, from the 70's and 80's a little too loud. Loud enough that it was hard to ignore the lousy songs.
Fortunately there weren't very many of those. One song, U2's "Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For" from the album "Joshua Tree" is still about the only thing worth listening to to ever come out of Bono's mouth.
Elton John's iconic 'Rocket Man' tossed me back to my high school years, when I was introduced to the John/Taupin sound, the early stuff, back when it was good. Bernie Taupin wrote the lyrics, including 'Candle in the Wind' as well as the rewrite of that song customized for Princess Di's untimely death. Good stuff. Still a little too loud though.
We were greeted and seated. Brittany would be our server. Young, but not too young, she seemed polished and confident.
She took our drink orders, tea, sweet tea and coke. We sat back and looked through the menus, the drinks arrived in a couple of minutes. That was all the time we needed.
The Food:
Remember the salad bar, remember the salad bar. You have to do that when deciding on what to order here. The salad bar is routinely the better bar around, anywhere. You're going to pile it on, so pick a less than heavy meal. Fortunately they offer that

The tea arrived. It was beautiful. Look at it. It almost sparkles, no cloudiness, bright, crisp, fresh. Note to other restaurateurs: If your tea doesn't look like this, it is not going to be very good. Not all sparkling tea is great, but if it isn't this clear, I guarantee that it will not be very good.
We placed our orders.
Me: Petite Sirloin. The recommended sides for that were grilled zucchini and spaghetti squash. I laughed. I gagged, I insisted on a substitution, mashed potatoes and green beans. Seriously folks, zucchini and squash? Nobody actually eats that crap. Brittany assured me, with a smile, that it was no problem.
Angel asked for the tilapia and lobster. She sided it with squash and zucchini.....just kidding, mashed potatoes. Adam took the Asiago peppercorn sirloin.  He added mashed potatoes as well.
Brittany had barely enough time to safely clear the area before the three of us charged the salad bar like sea-weary sailors hitting the docks for a lusty weekend liberty.

My salad

Angel's (blech) salad

They've got everything for a monster salad that you could want, it's all fresh, and most of it is plentiful. This time the crouton supply was a little low, but that didn't concern me. I piled on a little lettuce, a little spinach, bell peppers, red onions, mushrooms, beans, a little cheese, egg and bacon bits and a teaspoon of potato salad. I drizzled a small amount of blue cheese dressing and then a a larger amount of thousand island. During the week I would call this, by itself, a meal. Thus the reason for the 'petite' sirloin steak. Angel and Adam created their own salad versions. The lovely wife poisoned hers with broccoli, Adam punched the lights out on his with French dressing. Then came the biscuits. Mmmmm, cheesy and garlic-y biscuits, soft, fluffy. Those things are dangerously good.

We had time to finish our salads, I finished early since I'd accidentally over-dressed mine. I'll have to start paying more attention to that.
Brittany stopped by with drink refills, I fell in love with her. I simply said "You know this is the best restaurant tea around don't you?" She smiled then looked toward Angel, as people often do when I make bold and brilliant statements.
"He is highly critical about tea." Angel responded, somewhat dismissively. Brittany slammed her back.
"I get that!" she said. She picked up one of the glasses and said "This is what tea is supposed to look like, you don't see that very often!"
She went on to say that she too was critical of sub-par tea and would often not order it in places that she knew to do the job badly. We then started discussing brands. Tea nerds....
"I have one more question. " I said.
"Sure." She smiled.
"Are you, by any chance, married?"
Seriously, I said that. Angel went all old-school wife-furious. Not really though, she knows that I value a good glass of tea and that I take it very seriously, much more so than her. Brittany laughed it off, or pretended to out of respect for my family. On the newly instituted PJTea scale though, I'd easily rate Ruby T's offering a +4.

Petite Sirloin

The meals arrived, exactly as ordered.
The first thing I noticed was the brightness of the beans. As was covered in last week's review of Tanglefoot, it is indeed possible to ruin something as basic as green beans. This small pile was proof they can indeed be prepared simply, yet properly. They still had 'tooth' but were sauteed perfectly. The potatoes were garlic-y but not too much so. The steak... Oh, the steak.

Tilapia and Lobster.

 A great cut of meat, properly tended to, lightly seasoned, grilled to the exact point of being beautiful. Juicy, a little char, tender, smoky. As planned, I was able to finish it all and was not disappointed with a single bite.
Angel gave me a fork full of her lobster topping. It was simply to die for. The first thing I tasted was the lobster, the chunks absolutely melting in my mouth. She managed to finish most of it, but there was a certain richness and a heaviness to it. The fish, she said, was moist and flaky . Tilapia is a very mild fish, it accepts accompaniment just fine, in fact it begs for it. This lobster and cheese concoction took it up quite a few notches.

Asiago Peppercorn Sirloin

Adam didn't say much about his, but it was obvious that he was pleased. The corners of his mouth were in the slightly-up position. "Very good." was his final evaluation. He manages to say things succinctly with a lot fewer words than I can.

 Summary:
Most of the time Ruby gets it right. Occasionally they don't, but on this occasion they hit it out of the park. Brittany was outstanding. The meals were all exactly as ordered, timely and our drinks stayed refilled. She was pleasantly chatty when engaged, but otherwise left us to enjoy the meal. I noticed her at other tables as well, very consistent and professional. Ruby Tuesday's is lucky to have someone as professional and competent as her. She really should be paid more though.
The bill came to a few cents under sixty dollars. Remarkably, a couple of bucks less than we spent at Tanglefoot, but at Ruby's we got a much, much better meal.
The salad bar at Ruby T's is simply outstanding. How often do you order a slightly smaller entree just so you can accommodate a bigger salad? We do this regularly here, nowhere else that I can recall.
Once again, the tea. It's a simple thing, or at least it is generally treated that way. Most restaurants treat iced tea as an afterthought, or with no thought whatsoever. In my mind that's a shame. All I ask is that the tea served be given as much consideration as a frosty beer, a mixed drink, or a cup of coffee. If it is old, cloudy, or bitter, pour it out and make some fresh.
As we were leaving, Brittany said that she was glad to meet someone on the same page with her about the tea. Well Brittany, we are indeed on the same page now, this one. Thanks for making the 200th review a pleasant and memorable one.
_________________

Fans: I haven't forgotten you. Thanks to all of you for making this silly little blog so successful. You've apparently been spreading the word, I come across new readers quite often.
And please, don't be shy, let me know what you think. Or at least tap one of the ads that show up on the page. I get a couple of cents each time someone does that, just think of it as a 'tip'.
Thanks again!


***** The email from Corporate:


First - congratulations on your 200th post! We are proud and humbled to be the recipients of your fine review.
Also we are always happy to hear that our guests appreciate our team members as much as we do! Guest satisfaction is our number one priority, and we are committed to ensuring gracious hospitality and incomparable service. We will proudly recognize Brittany for providing you with such fine service.
Thanks again for your words of praise. We look forward to serving you again soon!

Valerie Dee
Manager of Guest Services
Ruby Tuesday

Outback Steakhouse

5240 S. Lindbergh Blvd.
South County
St. Louis Mo.

We're back. We've eaten out since early July, but not together... Family emergency, all is better now, thanks for asking.
Angel chose this place. She'd seen commercials. One word: 'Snow Crabs.'
Okay, that's actually two words.
She saw some commercials featuring the sea bugs and thought she'd like some, so we went. We've been to Outback before, but not recently. I scanned ahead at the menu online and decided on my choice rather quickly. Two words: Snow Crabs.
The Place:
On the way, we discussed Outback. I mentioned that there is absolutely nothing 'Australian'  about the franchise. The companies that started and own the chain are based out of Florida, which according to Wikipedia, is not in Australia, nor has it ever been. In fact There are only five Outback steakhouses in Australia, which may sound like a lot, but not if you compare that to Korea where there are about thirty, Japan, has five or six, and Saudi Arabia has three. Yeah, Saudi Arabia. That's in the middle east, atop Africa.
"G'day, mate!" In Arabic is pronounced يوم جيد، ورفيقة
In Japan it's 良い一日、仲間
And in Korean 좋은 날, 친구
I teach, it's what I do.
The whole Aussie theme is contrived, made up. However the franchise does go out of its way to make each location look and feel just like I imagine Australia looks and feels. By that I mean that Australia must be a lot like Ruby Tuesday's or TGI Friday's because that's what the place is like on the inside.
Dark, very dark, lots of TV's playing sports. Not those sissy Australian sports like sheep carving, crocodile whittling and boomerang ducking, no, this place showed real rough and tumble American baseball.
We were seated at a booth near the noisy bar. There weren't really many people at the bar, the noise was coming from a dot-matrix printer. Remember those? It sounded like a Dremel rotary tool cutting through small sheets of thick plastic. I can only think of a few more annoying noises, children laughing or poetry, for example.
We were greeted by Mike, a jocular middle aged man who seemed to really like his job. He told us where the menus were and that he'd be with us shortly.
I scanned the menu to see if it held any delights other than that I'd seen online. It didn't. I was satisfied with my original choice.
Adam and Angel debated appetizers. Angel said she was craving a blooming onion, a trademark item at the Australian-themed joint. Adam won't eat onions, so that meant the one-pound onion, breaded and deep fried just like Australians probably never actually made, would be split between her and I. This frightened me. I wanted steak and crab and feared that the carb-load offered up by the onion would fill me up prematurely. Also I had a memory of the last time I'd had the treat, it was at a local fair where they apparently cooked them a day or two ahead off time. Maybe not, but the thing got soggy and greasy really fast and tasted sort of like cotton candy or funnel cake. That taste memory sort of made my face wrinkle up.
"Too big." I said.
"Yeah, you're right" Angel said to me, for the first time, ever.
So they decided on the wings, medium  heat. I'm not a hot-wings guy, so I said I didn't care.
Mike brought our drinks, tea, tea, and Coke. There was something odd about the tea, I could see right through it. Even in the dimly lit place it seemed transparent. Angel noticed too and tasted it. "It tastes like lemon water." I agreed. This was absolutely the weakest tea I'd ever been served. When Mike stopped by again I did something I've never actually done before. I sent my tea back. He said he'd try to find a pitcher of darker stuff. He eventually did, and it was indeed darker, but not by much. I'll howl more about this later.
He also brought us a small loaf of bread on a wooden platter, along with a knife that was big enough to whittle a crocodile. It wasn't very sharp though, so it sort of ripped the bread into pieces more so than actually slicing it..
The bread was very dark, like rye, or burnt toast. Alongside the bread was a generous doovalacky (Australian for do-hickey) of butter. I slathered up a shard and tasted it. My tongue expected rye-grainy-darkness, but it wasn't. It tasted like light, sweet white bread.
The Food:
I ordered my six-ounce sirloin ( I couldn't justify the extra ten bucks for a Victoria filet) and snow crabs. I asked for a side of garlic mashed potatoes.
"That's a problem." Mike said. "We're not able to serve mashed potatoes this evening."
I assumed it was due to a local zoning ordinance or something since I couldn't imagine why baked potatoes were plentiful and mashed ones were not. Mike didn't offer further explanation. Perhaps the mashed potato chef was down with a case of the wobbly boot (drunk), or worse, on an extended walkabout.
Angel changed her mind, again, and instead of getting what she came for, she ordered the Great Barrier Trio, a dish containing Ahi tuna, coconut shrimp and an avocado and crab meat dip-thing. Adam asked for the Diablo Steak, a sirloin coated in a hot-ish pepper sauce, and Aussie fries.
They also asked for the appetizer. Mike said the wings would take about ten minutes. Mike did this a lot, telling us how long the next thing would be. I liked that.
I was a bit worried at this point though, they already epic-failed the simple task of making ice tea, and they couldn't remember how to make mashed potatoes. Outback's kitchen was not impressing me so far.
The wings arrived and they looked different. They had not been dipped into neon orange Tabasco like other places. They looked like fried chicken wings. I tried some, they were hot, but temperature-wise, not pepper-spice wise. They were spicy, but not overly so. I had an entire wing and regretted having had three rips of bread. I wanted my steak and crab, so I was being careful not to gorge on the precursors. I sipped some more on my tea-like drink. The refill was just a little darker, but you could still read through it, in the dark.
The food arrived shortly after the wings were all but gone.
 My steak looked tiny, but it was thick. There were only a couple of crab legs and that was fine with me. The baked potato looked pretty good, so I mashed it up with my fork. I was careful to not let the staff see me perform that bit of dark magic, fearing they would kidnap me and make me make mashed potatoes for everyone.
Angel's Great Barrier Trio didn't appeal to me much. Part of the tuna was drenched in a yellow-green sauce. I tasted a chunk of tuna but could only taste the sauce, which tasted a lot like a house dressing you might find in a high school cafeteria. I tasted no tuna, nothing fishy or meaty at all. There was a doovalacky of some kind of marmalade in the middle of her platter. She tasted it with a dip of her finger, wrinkled up her nose, then gagged. I don't recall her fingers tasting all that bad so it must have been the marmalade.
"I never want that stuff on my plate, ever again." She said.
Adam said nothing about his steak, or Aussie fries, which oddly enough, looked exactly like French fries. I suggested he mash them up with a fork. He gave me a funny look.
Angel ate one of the shrimp. She put on another peculiar look. The next two shrimp she ate only after she de-nuded them by peeling off the coconut. This of course turned the dish from 'coconut shrimp', to 'shrimp'.
On my plate was a shiny, mechanical, plier-like device that I assumed was originally intended to castrate sheep. Australians love to castrate sheep, I'm not sure why unless it has to do with jealousy. I hoped the device had been thoroughly cleaned, I sniffed it and could not detect any sheep-crotch scent. I also discovered it was quite handy for cracking open the crab legs. I did not have a whole crab, just the legs, so I couldn't tell if the tool could also be used to castrate crabs.
The steak was fine, though the pansy-edged knifed tended once again to rip rather than slice. The crab was fine but of course there was much more exoskeleton than meat. My 'mashed' potato was excellent.
Angel said she liked the avocado-crab dip stuff better than the tuna and shrimp. Adam said "Good." When I asked him about his meal.
I managed to finish the steak, and the crab and about half the potato.
Summary:
Outback is a lot like Ruby Tuesday's in ambiance, price and food choice, just not as good. In fact there was nothing they did especially well that would make them stand out. I was really, really bothered about the tea. How hard can it be to make, then quality check, a simple batch of tea? Serving tea like this would be like making a Mai-tai but leaving out the troublesome rum.
No mashed potatoes? Really? What does this say about a place that features mashed potatoes as a default side on dozens of meals? Not only did they not have any for me, but Mike had said they wouldn't be available for the entire evening. What is that?
 The meal cost us fifty five bucks, which isn't terrible, but the offerings just really didn't quite rise up to that level. Some of the food was fine, but only that.
Mike was exceptional, he took care of everything quickly and let us know how long things would take. I really liked that.
Angel later agreed, there simply wasn't a draw, a signature, or singularly good item that would pull us back. We can get basically the same food at Ruby Tuesday's and they have that awesome salad bar.
Sorry Outback, we just weren't impressed.

Ruby Tuesday’s

1120 Shapiro Dr.

Festus, Mo

Last minute choice.

It was Sunday, I’d just awoken from a heavy, fitful nap. My mind was a bit fuzzy, it had been all day. I suffer from a common disease called "career IT system administrator". The side effects are occasional bouts of sleepless nights and long weekends. IT system admins can only work on big, important systems when the actual users are not using them. This weekend was a scheduled task, to move a  big, important server from one piece of hardware to another. Lots and lots of details, lots and lots of things that can go wrong, and of course we couldn’t start the six hour or more task until Saturday at five P.M. Knowing this ahead of time we lunched on Saturday at our newly-discovered favorite place, Cool Beans Java Cafe in Hillsboro. We had their barbecue steak sandwich on pretzel bread. Awesome good.
The server move went fairly well, I work with experienced pros, but it still took a long time. I drove in to the workplace to speed up the process, my home internet connection is not really ideal for real-time support for many things. Driving in actually saved time and frustration. We finished about eleven thirty, I got home after midnight.

Going straight to bed wasn’t really an option, so I had a snack, watched a little TV and popped the cork on a new box of wine to wind down.

I got to bed about two A.M. which, if I were still in my twenties, would not have been a problem, but surprisingly, aging has affected my tolerance to lack of sleep and even disturbances in sleep patterns.

Sunday started late and was, in my head, foggy. I managed to take care of some chores, mechanically, one of those days were I went to Walmart with a short list and returned with only those things on the list. This is rare. I mean, it’s Walmart.

I got home and took that nap. I woke up with a headache and still fuzzy. It was like I’d flown to Japan. Getting old sucks.

The Place:

Near the Lowes, overlooking I-55.

It was pretty busy, always is. A large group in front of us got seated before we did. We were led to the left of the salad bar. Several families were seated and in various stages of their meals. Directly across from us was a young mother and father with three small kids. One of the boys was jumping  up and down in his seat, something his mother scolded and begged him to stop, only to be rebuked with a nasty “No!” from the little snot-nosed brat. This went on for a while. I was able to tune it out. On this day tuning most things out was not my problem. Tuning them in was difficult.

We scanned the menus, I wasn’t looking for anything new or adventurous, so I pretty much stuck with the same thing I usually get.

The Food:

Angel was in a mood to try something different. We scanned the menus, me not really paying much attention, just checking to see if the petit sirloin was still available. It was, and for a couple of extra bucks they’d add a lobster tail.

“Have you decided what you want with your salad?” Angel asked the table.

The salad bar at RT’s was a forgone conclusion. It’s the reason I was after a ‘petit’ steak. RT has the best salad bar in the known universe. It’s always freshly stocked with dozens of options. My only complaint about it is that the plates are too small.

We ordered our drinks, tea, Diet Coke and Coke. They arrived with luscious cheesy biscuits, another reason to go there. The tea was fresh and clear, it actually had flavor. RT’s usually makes good tea, not always, but usually, this was a good night.

I ordered my petit steak and lobster tail, with the salad bar and a side of mashed potatoes. Angel surprised me by asking for the French Quarter Gumbo, a dish that is apparently related to New Orleans cuisine.

I’ve been to New Orleans, had some Gumbo, I don’t think I’ve ever asked for it again. It’s just not my thing.

Adam ordered the Asiago Sirloin Steak with green beans and mashed potatoes. No salad bar for him, though it was guaranteed that he would be caught filching  those dark croutons off his mother’s plate. She always gets extra croutons because she knows she’ll be sharing them.

So we dashed to the salad bar, once again it did not disappoint. I piled my little plate high and slopped on some dressing. Angel did the same.

We sat back down and dug in. The little boy next to us was acting up again. His mother was explaining to him that they would be going to bed early since they were up so late the night before and had not napped. “No kidding.” I thought. The little boy screamed ‘No!’ a few more times, so she kept debating him.

The salads and biscuits hit the spot, we had time to finish, or surrender, a few minutes ahead of the main courses. RT doesn’t always get this part right, the timing of the courses, but this night they were spot-on.

The small  plate with my steak and lobster tail and mashed potatoes was clean  and sparse. I didn’t mind, I don’t need a lot of garnish and flourish.

Angel’s gumbo came on a larger plate and looked just like gumbo. Adam’s steak was larger than mine, but size isn’t everything.

Angel snorted her plate in an attempt to clear her sinuses. I carved into the steak and thought it a little tough, or maybe they just gave me a dull knife.

No, it was tough.

The lobster was tough too. You just can’t get a properly fresh and cooked lobster in the heartland. I knew it would be overcooked when I ordered it, it always is and not just at Ruby’s. Red Lobsters in the area can’t even cook lobster right. The thing was though, I wanted the taste of lobster regardless, even a chewy one. An overcooked, chewy lobster is still a lot better than no lobster. Lobster is kind of like sex that way.

I only finished about two thirds of my small steak, it was just too tough. The lobster only had about four bites in it, so I finished that, and the mashed potatoes were really good.

Angel had to give up on her gumbo, too spicy after a while, also she claimed to have lost some of her appetite when the mom at the next table kept asking the rowdy little boy if he was pooping.

Summary:

We had a coupon so our meal was ten dollars cheaper than it could have been, coming in at forty seven bucks.

The service was all pleasant and efficient and timely. As a dining experience except for the family at the next table, it was exceptional. The food was pretty good, well the steak was too tough, but the first few bites were good.

The salad bar, of course, makes it all better. Why we don’t just order a salad bar and biscuits and be done with it, I’m not sure.

IHOP

Gravois Bluffs

Fenton, Mo.
www.ihop.com

This was supposed to be a review/revisit of the Olive Garden. We went straight there, found a full parking lot and a line forming outside. We took a step into the entrance, looked at the packed crowd there, and Angel and I agreed immediately to abandon the effort.

Lucky for us there are nearly a dozen eateries in sight of this OG. It was simply too steamy hot to wait twenty to thirty minutes for Olive Garden. That’s like standing in line for a ten percent-off coupon for a can of generic peaches; it’s just not worth it. My previous reviews for the OG have been tepid at best. There's several places worth waiting for, Olive Garden simply isn't among them.

The problem with IHOP is that it extremely hard to review.  A good review includes criticism, friction, or simply lousy food or service. I’ve been to a few IHOP’s in my years, and I’ve never really found any of that.

The Place:
What can I tell you, it's an IHOP. You see them everywhere. Bigger than Waffle Houses but containing that same dreamy bacon-y, syrup-y, coffee aroma.
We were shown to our booth and waited on by a young lady that I have determined to be perhaps the best waitress in the world, ever. Youthful, upbeat, smart, dutiful, funny, Jessica. She handed us a pile of glossy, colorful menus. She took our drink orders, tea, sweet tea, and for Adam, an iced mocha. I didn't even know he liked mocha.

The Food:

If I have one complaint about IHOP, it’s the menu. They're pretty and spill-proof, but it contains too much. We sent poor Jessica away three times, replying to her that yes indeed, we still needed a few more minutes to choose.

Appetizer Sampler

She took it in stride, even refilling Adam’s mocha once before we’d made up our minds. There was too much to choose from and it all looked very good. Deciding on one thing meant forgoing the rest. The upside being that we’d more than likely not be disappointed.

I decided on a breakfast plate, coincidentally called a ‘Split Decision Combo’. Two eggs, two slices of bacon, two sausage links, two pancakes and two slices of French toast.

Angel ordered the bacon-wrapped sirloin steak and eggs,

Adam picked the hash brown-battered chicken with biscuits and two eggs.

Angel ordered the appetizer sampler, onion rings, chicken strips and mozzarella sticks.

Split Decision

I also asked for a pot of coffee. The tea was completely tasteless and breakfast was coming soon.

Jessica was quick with the thermos and a cup, happily reporting that our appetizer was on the way.

Quickly enough, it was. Knowing I had a pretty full meal ahead of me I just had an onion ring or two. Adam scooped up a stringy cheese stick, pulling the gooey cheese to arm’s length.

Bacon Wrapped Sirloin

The coffee was fresh and good, not too weak. Within a few more minutes our plates arrived.

About the food, I can only say this. It was near perfect. Properly prepared, as ordered, not too much or too little of anything.

Hash brown crusted chicken

That’s the benefit of IHOP’s menu, there’s nothing bold or complicated. No fussy sauces or fickle proteins or produce. These are basic, simple dishes, no grand recipes. About the only spices in their rack are salt and pepper. It’s not hard to make a nice breakfast plate, you only need to learn how to do it right, then repeat. Overcook the bacon or an egg? It’s instantly recognizable and easily corrected.The french toast was a bit on the sweet side having been dusted with powdered sugar, but that's just a preference some people have. I prefer mine un-sweetened, no syrup, the same as my pancakes. IHOP lives up to their name when it comes to pancakes, light, fluffy, perfectly browned.

Summary:

The only less than positive comment was from Angel, the bacon had completely infused the small, slightly overcooked  sirloins with bacon flavor, and after a bit that was a little strong.

That’s it, the only negative comment.

The bill came to a reasonable $43 and change, I tipped as much as I could with the cash in my pocket. Jessica was a pleasure as a server, friendly, bright, funny, patient and courteous. The place was clean, roomy, and comfortable. The food was, for the most part, exactly what we expected, wanted, and we left fully satisfied, with a takeout box of mozzarella sticks and chicken fingers.

Going that extra mile. Thanks Jessica!

Jack in the Box

899 Veterans Boulevard
Festus, MO

http://www.jackinthebox.com

Note to new readers:  This review contains occasional vague references to previous articles.  It also contains rambling personal tangents that have little or nothing to do with the restaurant itself, but are part of a sporadic thread of background trivia. If you'd like to get yourself up to speed to enhance your reading experience please do so, all previous reviews are available in the left hand column of this page.

The unrelenting heat wave continued. I’d spent most of the day puppy-sitting at home while Angel made a trip to PetSmart to pimp some mutts for CARE (http://www.petfinder.com/shelters/MO337.html ). She took one of the dogs we’d been fostering for several months with her. We really like Eva, a small, sweet whippet–thin, cinnamon hued, boxer/mountain cur mix, but she really does deserve her own family. http://www.petfinder.com/petdetail/19660406

Eva

  Angel fetched Eva from a rescue in Independence Mo. since she looked just like our own Deedee, and a little like Blue. Angel finds and goes after dogs with this general appearance whenever she can. One, a big boy named Rocko came from as far away as West Memphis Arkansas. Rescue operations trade dogs fairly often, there’s so many kenneled dogs that finding another rescue that has luck with certain types of dogs is almost as good as finding it a home.

We had several boarders in, so it was a little more work than our own five dogs take. One, a very young yellow lab named Tucker  needed to be let outside several times to avoid inevitable mishaps. I did sneak in an early HBA trip to Wally-world, but that and  dog-duty was about the extent of my day, until Adam got up. I took that opportunity to take a much-wanted and richly undeserved nap.

     It was Angel’s turn to choose the eatery, she mentioned that we hadn’t been to Jack’s in a while. I liked it the last time so I agreed. The heat makes original thinking and deciding very tough for me, so I was game for just about anything. I wasn’t all that hungry anyhow. Chili for breakfast, general lethargy throughout the day, along with the oppressive heat made me pretty much meal-ambivalent.

The Place:

Atop the hill overlooking the interstate, next to Taco Bell, Fazoli’s and a half dozen other fast-food boxes. The place was nearly empty, none of the joints on the hill were really rocking. Angel had mentioned on the way that Jack served breakfast 24/7. That seemed appropriate since my nap had been long and very heavy. I like Jack’s burgers, but once again, for you the fans, I decided to try something different.

I scanned the various breakfast offerings, not really a big variety, sandwiches, wraps, etc. I finally settled on the ‘Ultimate Sausage Combo’ only because it didn’t have ham. I usually like ham, but my delicate, yet handsome chili-laced tummy seemed to jerk away from the very notion of it this evening, I don’t know why.

There was no tea. I’d had a soda/pop/coke earlier in the day and didn’t really want another, but the only other option was lemonade, usually too-sweet, so I got a Coke anyhow.

Angel placed her order, Adam his, and we filled our drink cups and found a table in the back corner.

A broom and dust pan leaned against one of the empty tables, no person attached. It would have been nice if there had been as the floor was littered up noticeably more than it needed to be. A couple of the tables could have used some attention as well, but weren’t getting any either. The only other customers were a young couple with a small child. The child, true to its own nature was refusing to eat its meal. “Finish your meat so we can go home.” The mommy kept calmly coaxing the sticky little imp. That went on for at least fifteen minutes, though it seemed much longer. I don’t really care for small children, their doting young parents even less.

I asked Angel what she ordered, she told me, adding that she thought she was going to get a chicken sandwich until she saw the giant poster depicting one. “It just didn’t look very good, too processed-looking.” I didn't see the picture, but understood the issue. Chicken on a sandwich should look at least a little like actual chicken, not like a large McNugget.

The Food:

Angel had ordered the Sirloin Swiss burger, Adam, the Spicy Chicken. They each also got two tacos, which they love and I detest. Their orders were sided by curly fries, my breakfast sandwich with hash browns. The young lady that delivered the food tray asked if we needed any sauces.

“Do you have any sauerkraut?”I innocently asked.*

The table roared, the girl grinned, obviously confused, but came back professionally. “No, I’m afraid not.” She answered, faking amusement at the inside joke.

I dumped out my six or eight flat hash brown bites, essentially two-inch-long, flat tator-tots. They seemed kind of dark and felt heavy. I unwrapped the sandwich and was a little disappointed. The sausage, egg and cheese were on a standard hamburger bun. The sausage was flattened to fit the bun all the way to the rim, so it looked and felt like a cheeseburger. This made the first couple of bites a bit odd. It looked like a burger, felt like a burger so the initial taste was somewhat confusing to my taste buds' primal instincts. There was nothing really bad about it, but I usually take my sausage sandwiches on biscuits. The hash browns were indeed as I’d feared, heavy, too greasy, so I didn’t finish them. Angel kindly shared her ample curly fries. My meal was not especially satisfying though I can’t blame it completely on the meal itself. I was still struggling with occasional aftershocks from the breakfast chili, I was uncomfortable in the heat and I was sipping a too-sweet, bubbly Coke. I quit drinking pop/soda/cokes with meals a long time ago due to the fact that they overpower a meal in sweetness and bloating factor.

Angel and Adam didn’t have any problems though. They tore through their tacos and sandwiches like pros.

As objectively as I can though I will say that Jack’s breakfast offering was on its own merit, in every way inferior to Hardee’s. Hardees has real, home-made-like, biscuit-sized biscuits and sausage-sized sausage. That combination just seems right to this southern-bred eye and tongue. Their tator-rounds (thin tots) are to die for. If I want a fast-food breakfast sandwich, Hardees is my first choice. Now that I’ve tried it, I’d say Jack in the Box is like twenty fifth, or ninetieth, wherever the bottom might be.

Summary:

Don’t take this one lousy review as a total condemnation of the place. Their burgers are quite good. Angel and Adam tell me those disgusting, meat-pasty tacos are great and the atmosphere/sanitation is usually better than the more popular chains. On this day though, this particular store was not at its best. Too much litter on the floor, too many tables left un-cleaned, even though there was no rush going on, quite the opposite in fact. Clean your floors and tables folks, is that too much to ask?

_______________

* This is one of those references to previous reviews I mentioned in slanty print above. This particular one goes back to June, 2011, titled 'Kim's Cafe V'.