Main & Mill Brewing Company

240 E. Main
Festus, Mo.
On the Web
Social Media

We've been waiting, for over a year.
This place sounded ambitious. Take an old main street storefront and convert it to a brewery/brew house. . . in Festus.
The Place:
They stripped the interior of building and built it up again. Early on there was a significant delay when someone thought they were at a drive-thru and crashed into

Photo courtesy of
denny@mainandmillbrewco.com

the side of the building, knocking down a few yards of brick. This prompted the owners to go to the city fathers (and mothers) to install large, concrete planters between the building and the street. This has caused some 'discussion' around town, but in my opinion it doesn't appear to be all that inconvenient, excessive or tacky.
They finally opened up a few weeks ago, we thought we'd wait a little bit to work out the kinks.
The job they did was simply amazing. On the inside, mostly brick and heavy wood. The highly lacquered bar and wood tables were made from some of the 100 year old building's original lumber.

The exposed rafters were very much the work of buildings of that time, oversize by today's flimsier standards. The trim was mostly black, window frames, chairs, etc. The brewing equipment was bright stainless steel sitting in the center of the first floor. We went in and escorted upstairs to a large area with a bar and several rows of high bistro tables and chairs. The place was abuzz, about half full at five in the afternoon. The stairs appeared to be original, heavy, old and steep.
We were seated against the wall behind a long, high table and nice chairs. You end up sitting next to strangers along the table, but just because you sit by them doesn't mean you have to socialize with them. . .or even acknowledge they exist. I was fine with that.

A young lady stopped by and handed out menus and asked about drinks. I broke from the traditional, after all it is a brewery, and ordered a 'Session IPA'. It seemed to fit the taste niche I had set my mind on. I don't drink much beer, but when I do, I want it to have a bold flavor. By bold, I mean something with  more actual taste than popular domestic beers. I really, really don't like weak beer.
I once worked at a very large beer company in St. Louis. . . you know the one. . .  so I know a thing or two about. . . business software.  Seriously, in those three years I learned little more than I already knew, which wasn't much,  about beer. I handled the accounting and financial data, not the recipes. I have tried several beers though, I know what I like and don't like. Angel and Adam settled for soda pop. Losers.
The Food:
I'd looked online ahead of time. . . I knew what I wanted. There's not a huge pile of food offerings, but they span a wide enough variety. Sandwiches, burgers, salads, steaks, salmon, etc.
The appetizers looked appealing. . . different. . . oh, no fried ravioli, how odd. But they did have another temptation, Beer Cheese Pretzels.  That's what we ordered. We also called in our entrees, Angel and I asked for the fish and chips, Adam, a House Pub Burger. Fries for Adam and me, Angel wanted the house made chips. No salads please.
I sipped my first beer in a year or so and was greatly pleased. I'd had a few other IPA's (India Pale Ale) in my lifetime, this was a very good one. Hoppy, tasty, not at all dull or bitter. If I had to drink beer more often, this is probably what I'd ask for. As far as the 'brewery' bit goes, it was a home run for the first brewery to open in Jefferson county in 120 years.
Then came the pretzels, long thick sticks alongside a beer cheese bisque dipping sauce. I love a good
soft pretzel and these were certainly good. As good as they were though, the real star of this appetizer plate was the beer cheese bisque. Angel agreed, this was not your standard nacho cheese machine sauce. It had a depth of tastes I can barely describe. Cheese, beer, and something else, I cannot figure out exactly what, veggies, I think, maybe celery and a dot of onion, but I'm pretty sure there was even more to it than that. At the end of the meal, the only thing we boxed up was the remaining half pretzel and the last of the bisque.
We could have stopped right there. It was that good. Pretty soon though, the entrees arrived.
I've been looking for a decent plate of fish and chips. It has been mostly a futile task. The 'chips' are easy, a basic French fry does nicely. It's the fish

that everyone fusses with and fails. Fish and chips are a take away food, like a sandwich or a deep fried Twinkie. They were invented for people on the go. In other words, eaten by hand. That means the fish has to be breaded and crispy. This is apparently, incredibly difficult to do right. Fish, unlike chicken fried steak and Twinkies, is high in moisture. Fish is also crumbly. To make it street-ready, the breading has to hold up to and hold together through all that internal steam.
Main and Mill's fish was absolutely delicious. They served the two large fillets with the obligatory tartar sauce as well as a bottle of malt vinegar. I like both.
However.
At first bite, the breading started slipping off the rest of the fish. As large and as heavy as the cut was, it could not support its own weight. Only a couple of crunchy corners stayed intact. This rendered the notion of dipping the fish into the tartar virtually moot. I tried, part of the fish stayed in the ramekin. This was sad since the taste and texture of the fish itself

was extremely good. I tried cutting it, tearing it, nothing worked, there were fish flakes everywhere, I had to re-wrap the flaccid breading onto the chunks to get a taste of both.
I try to be constructive, so I'd recommend this: Use a slightly thicker batter and definitely use smaller cuts of fish. The average fish and chip aficionado wants to break off a piece, dunk it in tartar without the rest of it falling apart.  It simply must support its own weight.
This is not to say we didn't enjoy the meal, far from it! Adam wolfed down his "good" burger in near record time, no problem there. Angel and I loved the taste and done-ness of the fish, but we were both just a little put off by the sheer clumsiness of it.
Summary:
Except for the fish batter issues, everything was absolutely great. The IPA and the pretzel were to die for. The decor, the ambiance, were awesome. The wait staff, in our case a capable and friendly young lady name Lexie (Short for Alexandra, or Alexandria, we learned) was exceptional. Why she wants to shorten her solid and proper name like that I'm not sure. I simply won't allow people to call me anything other than my full first name, even though I don't particularly like my full first name. It's almost criminal to chop up a classic name like Alexandria, or Alexandra, whichever it is. However, she did a first rate job waiting on us, chatting when we wanted to chat, she even capably answered a few questions about the bisque and other things, including what her name was derived from.  She definitely deserves a substantial raise.
We will go again, maybe not for the fish and chips, we'll probably try something else. They seem to really care about quality, it shows in their beer especially.  They've done an outstanding job of fixing the place up , no cutting corners, well, short of having an SUV plow into the place. It is classy, tidy and very well thought out.
The bill came in less than I expected, an appetizer, a fine IPA and three entrees for fifty two bucks and change. That's less than we pay at Ruby Tuesday's or other sports casual places.
Definitely going back, definitely recommended!

_____________________

As noted above, the photo of the SUV inside the building was taken by Denny, one of the owners. I've been following this place on FB since I first heard about it. They updated the progress frequently, including after the accident.  I asked him via FB Messenger if I could use this photo in a future blog post. . . well Denny, here you go. 
Hold it. . . 'Denny'. . . isn't that a shortened version of 'Dennis'?  Grrr....

Lorenzo's Italian Kitchen

106 S. Main
Desoto, Mo.
On The Web
On Facebook

Finally, finally, I was free of my work-leash for a proper outing. I'd worked some earlier in the day, but finished up sometime after noon.
This was a last minute decision. Seriously last minute. The best we could get Angel to do was to spit out three or four places, I picked this one from that list.
The Place:
Main Street in Desoto is old school, mid twentieth century style. The street itself runs alongside and parallel to the many railroad sidings that make up the busy maintenance facility. There are only businesses on one side of most of Main Street. It's a  charming small town and it has been getting a period-reflective update. Old style street lamps, etc. Angel occasionally takes dogs she's training along the sidewalk. Traffic, foot traffic, it's good for a dog to learn how to act around unexpected and unfamiliar, for a dog, common people places.
Lorenzo's is one of the many small shops tucked away in an narrow older building. When we walked in, there were only a couple of tables occupied. I knew this would soon change though. They'd announced live music on the patio starting at six. We were an hour ahead of them.
A beautiful day, not too warm, but not chilly, sunny with occasional fluffy clouds overhead.
The place is cozy. I can think of no other word for it.
The walls are wainscoted in dark wood, the upper walls painted the color of ripe tomatoes. Furniture is black, booths, tables and chairs. The shirts and half-aprons worn by the staff were also black.
We were shown a booth near the back and fell into our seats. "Katie will be with you shortly." the hostess said.
And she was, a happy looking young lady stepped up and asked about drinks. Tea, sweet tea, Root Beer.
She skipped off and we started going over the menus.
I'd had the pizza before, it was very good. I think I had pasta there, though I couldn't recall wish dish. Pasta sounded good though.
Katie brought our drinks and we ordered an appetizer that we'd just been discussing.
The Food:
Of course they serve toasted ravioli, everyone for dozens of miles around serves that. Lorenzo's has that along with their own 'in-your-face' alternative, toasted cannelloni.
It's prepared the same way, but instead of ravioli they stuff a tube-pasta and cut it into bite-size bits. We recalled having them on a prior visit and all agreed.
When the time to order the entrees came, we were ready.
I wasn't real hungry, I'd made a big breakfast for myself that morning after everyone else had left. Adam had to work, Angel was out pimping mutts at an adoption event at Buchheit's in Herculaneum. She's done these things a lot over the last ten years or so. They take a lot of time, a lot of her energy, but occasionally they place a dog. This was a good day, they found homes for two
We ordered.
Me: Baked Cannelloni.
Angel: Mare Monti (a seafood and pasta dish)
Adam: Calzone with bacon, pepperoni and sausage.
A calzone is a fancy name for a folded over pizza. (see picture) You could also say that pizza is an open faced calzone.
We all declined a salad, then out came the electronic devices.
The tea wasn't especially good, but the toasted cannelloni  was exceptional. Some places barely even try on these appetizers, Lorenzo's cares.The house-made sauce is much better than the generic stuff offered at most restaurants. The stuffed pasta bits were gone in no time at all.
After a short while, just as the tables started filling up, the food was served. Simple, uncluttered plates, the food needed little extra flare or fanfare.

Cannelloni

Adam's calzone looked a bit like an upscale Hot Pocket. Angel's Mare was almost soup-like, my cannelloni was hard to see buried under thick, oozy sauce and melted white cheese.
I'd originally thought spaghetti, but the pasta to sauce/cheese ratio was a bit high. Cannelloni has only a little actual pasta, only enough to wrap the seasoned beef, chicken and veal insides. It's still a rich dish, but not as filling.
Angel's dish, Mare Monti has no actual horse in it.(much to my disappointment) The menu described it as Chopped clams, shrimp, real crab meat, fresh mushrooms and

Mare Monti

diced tomato, tossed in a light seafood broth and topped with fresh parsley. Meaning of course, I would never order it for myself, it's the clams.
She sucked it down though, first picking at the individual seafood bits, and slurping the pasta, then dipping her bread into the remaining sauce. "I'd like to just pick the plate up and slurp it all down." She said, she really, really liked the fish sauce.
I chopped up my pasta tubes once I found them. The stringy melted cheese made it a bit awkward to eat, but Lorenzo's is a casual place, things like slurping and dangling cheese bridges from mouth to plate is
perfectly acceptable. The sauce was awesome, sweet but not too sweet, it certainly hit several notes that sounded like 'fresh'. The meat was not too spicy, the texture of the blend of three meats was flawless, almost buttery.

Calzone

While I was eating I noticed the music I'd been rather enjoying. Big bands and crooners from a time before my own. When I do listen to or download music, this is among my favorite types. I really like the old guys from the 40's and 50's, Frank Sinatra, Bing Crosby, Tony Bennett. I like the contemporary crooners as well, Harry Connick Jr, Michael Buble and Tony Bennett. The music was orchestrated and peppy. It fit in this old place.
Of course, Adam liked his calzone, which looked thick and rich as well.


Summary:
The place was starting to fill up as we finished. A large family with a couple of adorable children scooted a

couple of tables together. I say the tots were adorable, which means they stayed at the other end of the dining area. Distance definitely makes small kids more appealing.
Katie took very good care of us. Everything arrived in a timely manner, exactly as ordered. She checked on us frequently and didn't dawdle when it came time for the check.
The entire staff was friendly and attentive. They all seemed to be enjoying themselves and the many customers.
The food was simply outstanding and not overpriced. Our tab came in at only $41, less than we'd spend at one of the franchised casual dining places. From the quaint and cozy location, to the excellent staff, to the exceptional food, there's absolutely nothing I can't happily recommend about Lorenzo's.
Okay the tea wasn't great, but that may be deliberate. They offer lots of wines and beers there, a lot of choices. Maybe next time I'll have a more mature drink.

Concord Grill

11427 Concord Village Ave.
Affton, Mo.
On the Interwebs
On Facebook



It is impossible to answer the question "Why this place?" without discussing my car. My new(er) car.
For the last epoch or two I've been driving small, cheap, disposable cars. I don't invest much into them and as soon as they became too much cost/trouble, I get rid of them and get another one. My commute (80 miles per day) is brutal on cars, especially small, cheap, disposable ones.
This, the third year of my unimpressive Chevy coupe's term of service, was to be its last. I'd put sixty-plus thousand miles on it in that time, and recently had to pour lots of hard earned ducats into it just to get it to pass the safety and emissions inspections. So for the last couple of months, I've been thinking about a replacement. This is new. In the past I never really thought about cars until it was too late. Then I'd just go grab whatever was available on the lots for the price I had budgeted. That's harder to do than you might think, I'm somewhat of a tightwad. Sure, I sometimes imagine myself tooling around in a pricey, flashy engineering and aesthetic marvel, but when it comes to contemplating the $$$, I run away, shrieking.
As I was researching this time though, a process that largely consisted of noticing other cars, on the road or in the parking lot, I found myself most pleased with only two or three options. Not just appearance, that's just paint and metal bending, but to a great degree, reliability, ruggedness and MPG's. I spend a lot of money on gas doing this commute. I also decided to up my budget a little, that opened up a new line of possibilities. One of those came available, at a reasonable price at a reputable dealership (another requirement) and I went for it. This process was expedited by the fact that Adam was finally in the market, had saved some money, and was looking for a small, cheap and perhaps disposable car.  So I sold him my Chevy. He offered a little more than I would have earned on a trade-in, but less than reputable dealerships would even have something in their inventory to match.

A win/win.
So what was the question?
Oh yeah.
Knowing all week that I would be going to a particular dealership, probably on Saturday, and knowing that buying a car can easily turn into an all-day event, I looked at online maps around the dealership and located places to eat that we'd not been to before.
Sure enough, though I had concluded the business aspects of the deal earlier in the day, they needed to prep it for delivery and that would take a while. So I told them "I'll stop in  later." and drove home in what would be probably the last highway run for me and my unimpressive Chevy. No sappy emotionalism, my relationship to cars is roughly the same as my relationship with computers. I like them just fine, to the point of not even thinking about them when they work, but seriously hate them when they are broken. Kind of like marriage.
This review is about the place I'd found within a mile or so of the dealership.
Another aside:
As I was researching the Concord Grill, I came across the following from their web page:
"We have grown from 6 burgers to 40.  My goal is to have 50 different burgers including our burger of the month and we are very close to that.  If you ever have an idea for a burger please email me and we will give it a try!"
I couldn't resist. I looked over the online menu at the huge selection of sometimes bizarre burgers and tried to think of something that they hadn't thought of, also making sure that I would actually eat the thing if necessary. Thus, after minutes of thought, I came up with one:
Shrimp Alfredo Burger.
So I sent an email to Deb, the owner, as she requested. I also mentioned that I'd never actually been to her place but likely would soon.
I received this reply later that evening:
"Well, that does sound interesting.  We could run that for a special and see how it sells.  Thanks for the idea and we hope you come see us soon."
And you believe that one mere, mortal man cannot make a real difference in this crazy old world.
The Place:  (finally)
On Concord Village Avenue, just a hop and a skip west of  Highway 21, (Tesson Ferry) just off Lindbergh.
I'd picked up my new(er) black beauty, the German engineered and Mexican assembled VW Jetta, and led Angel and Adam, in the family truckster, to the place. The front lot was full, it's not a very large place. There were exactly two parking spaces available in the back though. Popular place.
Sure enough it was nearly full as we entered. It was also a little loud, like sports-bar loud. An older building, low ceilings, probably under a thousand square feet. (just guessing).
The lighting was dim, like a bar, and in the back, there was, sure enough, a nice oak-topped bar. The walls were nearly covered in beer-logo mirrors, most I'd heard of, a few I hadn't. There was an empty four-top near the bar, we were led to that one.
The table was, as all the tables were, covered with an inexpensive green vinyl tablecloth, the chairs were simple as well. There was absolutely nothing on the table but the silverware(knife and fork only), wrapped in dark blue hand towels, and one each, salt and pepper shaker. No candles, condiments, flowers, dessert cards, nothing. I liked this. I'd just that morning had a modest breakfast at The Farmer's Kitchen in Hillsboro, sat at a two-top, and had trouble moving the various containers and cards out of the way to make room for my meal and my book. I've noticed the same thing at the other breakfast House's, Waffle and Huddle. Too much clutter for me.
We were greeted by our server, a nice young man whose name I regrettably did not get, but the receipt says he is 'Server ID  17.' He handed us menus and asked about drinks. Tea, Dr Pepper (no ice) and Pepsi.
Sure enough the burgers by themselves filled an entire page. I didn't expect my creation to be listed, or even offered, it had only been two days since I'd sent the email. At best the Concord Grill's research and development labs were still working on a functional prototype.
I was not disappointed though, there were plenty of fine sounding burgers listed, along with a few that made me gag a little at the very thought.
Everyone at the table wanted a burger, sure, why not. The place boasted about the 'Best Burgers in Town', right there in the menu. That's a hell of a claim. Challenge, accepted. I'd already, from my earlier research, decided on a couple that would be good. Angel and Adam took a little more time, but also decided that we needed to try the toasted (fried) ravioli, because, as their menu said:

The Food:
Server 17 returned, we were ready:
Me: Concord Burger. Cheddar cheese sauce and bacon topped with onion straws.
Angel: Smothered Burger. Grilled onions, mushrooms and beef gravy. (Because, Gravy!)
Adam; and this surprised and impressed me a little:
Hawaiian Burger. Sweet and sour sauce, bacon and pineapple.
Hmm. Whatever floats your Mālia, I guess. (A Hawaiian boat)
The drinks had arrived and I was surprised. A place that serves scores of different beers usually can't be expected to make a good glass of tea. This wasn't really bad at all. A +3 at least.
  The ravioli came soon. It didn't look as elegant as some we've had recently, a little flatter, probably frozen rather than house-made and the sauce was pretty basic as well. But it was good enough. Maybe the rangoons next time.
As we munched on the fried pasta we pulled out our electronic devices as we tend to do a lot. Well, Adam and I pulled ours out, Angel had left hers in the car, and the car was way out back. So we laughed at her mistake and then ignored her plight.
I did pause and look around a little, She'd interrupted my important work by saying "This is a diverse crowd."
Sure enough it was. A table of loud, working class guys, a table of three generations of a family, a few elderly couples, even a college aged couple, dressed like Seattle in the mid 90's, quietly eating salads.
And the place was full, it stayed full. Several new arrivals were greeted by name by some other table full. this meant this was probably a neighborhood joint, a lot of the people knew each other. The din was palpable, especially the beer-drinkers at that one table, but somehow it didn't seem too bad. The laughter and conversations was sort of familial, like you'd expect in a neighborhood pub. Because of this we didn't mind it too much.
The burgers arrived, and boy they looked good.
Thick style burgers served up on kaiser buns. Along side the burgers was an entire slice of onion, a little shard of lettuce and a few home-style pickle slices. To me and entire slice of onion is a but much, so I broke up a couple of the outer rings and discarded the rest. The fries were big and crispy, seasoned with what appeared to be salt and pepper, though I thought I detected a little something else, garlic maybe.
I assembled my burger, then squished it to make it small enough to fit into my mouth, they were indeed thick burgers. Oh yeah, they'd asked how we wanted them cooked, I took mine medium rare. Sure enough a nice pink center.
When I squished it, hot, melty cheese erupted out the sides, Mmmm, melty cheese.
It tasted great. This was good quality meat, cooked expertly. The burger was a bit messy, and I loved that. the heavier than normal bun held up just fine.
 Angel examined hers and looked a little disappointed. Not enough gravy for her tastes. "I wish they'd served it with a dipping dish with more gravy, that's the only complaint I have though." She said. Have I mentioned that Angel likes gravy? I'm sure I've brought that up somewhere before.
Adam's looked like a Hawaiian burger, a big slice of grilled pineapple topping it off. I was happy to hear that there was no Spam on it though, Hawaiians love Spam.
 They were too big for us though. We're sort of small as far as people go. We're certainly smarter and more sensible that most people, but just a slightly smaller size.
It wasn't until later as I started this review that I noticed the burger page offered a smaller version of any burger for $1 less. That would have been about perfect. No problem though, we just ate as much as we could.
Summary:
A truly, truly enjoyable meal. every aspect of it, the food, the service, the cheerful, familial ambiance, everything was exceptional. Sure, as I said earlier, it was a little noisy, but that didn't seem to matter much. Even halfway through gorging ourselves we were talking about 'the next time'. Already thinking about what else we'd like to try there, maybe even some of the desserts, like the Twinkies, (I assume, fried) topped with Reese's Peanut Butter and Chocolate or honey and powdered sugar.... er, maybe not. But still the burgers were excellent, perhaps the best thick burger I've had around town.

Oh, and about that. This place is located in Affton, which is one of the scores of towns that make up suburban St. Louis County. (St. Louis itself is not in St. Louis county, it is its own county.) So the claim of the biggest and best burgers in town, (Affton, pop. 20,000) is certainly possible. As for the entirety of the Metro St. Louis area, I'm not so sure, I haven't even tried most of the burgers offered in that vast landscape. But I think the claim is certainly solid for Affton itself.
The closest Metro rival in my mind, in the admittedly meager number of places I've eaten, would be the Train Wreck up north in Westport Plaza. The burger I get there is very, very similar to the one I'd had at the Concord Grill.  So a comparison is only fair. I'd say the Concord burger was at least as good, every bit as good. At worst, a tie. As for biggest, well like I said, I can't finish a huge burger, so that really doesn't score many points for me.
An exceptional meal though, Server 17 took good care of us and was on the spot with servings, refills and the check.
The bill came in at forty eight bucks, about normal for a big burger pub, that covered the ten buck (average) burgers, the fries and the appetizer. Certainly a lot of food for the money, though next time we'll probably go with the smaller burgers, especially if they offer a 'Shrimp Alfredo Burger'. Mmmm.
(I'll send Deb an email asking her to let me know when/if it is ever offered. It seems only fair that I get a chance to rate my own idea.)

The Courthouse Grill

250 1st Street
Hillsboro, Mo.

 We've been waiting for quite a while for this place to open up. We pass by this spot several times a week as it sits right in the middle of town. Finally this past week Angel and Adam saw people actually dining there.

I looked them up online to find out about hours, meal choices, etc. Nada. 

No web site, no Facebook page, nothing. Some of the auto-populating directories had a phone number and street address, and nothing else, so Friday night I called and was told the hours were Tuesday through Saturday 10 A.M until 10 P.M. Good enough.

The Place:

As I said we’d been watching. Weeks, maybe even a couple of months of construction. This appeared to be a complete renovation off the old building just of the main drag, across from the courthouse. It has its own designated parking area, a necessity being that close to the county court. Downtown parking is, like every other county seat, tricky during weekdays.

We parked and stepped right in, passing by the patio and the half dozen or so patrons seated there. Though the temperature was pleasant enough, the skies were clouding up and the breeze was a little gusty. That and the fact that we don’t especially like eating outdoors made the decision to dine inside rather easy.

We stepped in, the place was much bigger on the inside than any of us expected. There was plenty of available seating in the longer than wide dining area.  We glanced around and saw no obvious hostess, no one coming toward us. From the back a young lady finally emerged and advised us to sit anywhere we liked.

We picked a spot near the front, by the window. It afforded a view of the entire place.

The young lady handed us menus and wrote down our drink order, Pepsi, Diet Pepsi and unsweetened tea. 

About three minutes later another lady stopped by and offered to take our drink orders. We told her that it had already been taken and she asked by whom. “A younger lady” was all I could come up with and that didn’t help much since there were three or more younger lady waitresses scattered about. She said she’d figure it out.

The drinks did arrive, all in St. Louis Rams beer glasses.

St. Louis has a professional football team called the Rams. I don’t hear much about it since A. I’m not into football, and B. The Rams belong in Los Angeles as God intended. I blame the Arizona Cardinals football team for this mess. St. Louis is very much a baseball town, overwhelmingly so. Football, eh, not so much.

The place looked new. The mostly undecorated walls were painted a curious shade of light green that I can only describe as ‘pickle juice’. The only things on those walls were four or five beer signs, all touting  Anheuser-Busch-Inbev products, don’t get me started on that crime. In the back, over the bar was a large TV tuned in to a baseball game. Also over the bar there was one more AB/Inbev related neon sign.

The carpet was industrial and unnoticeably brown on lighter brown. The tables and chairs were noticeable, new, dark wood and modern.

All in all it was fresh, clean and modern. Sparse maybe, but not barren-sparse, more Scandinavian sparse.

The Food.

The menus were also fresh, clean and uncluttered, Burgers, sandwiches, specialties, seafood and steaks. Classic American cuisine.

Some of the burgers and sandwiches had court-related names like The Defender, The Judge and The Prosecutor. Cute. I was tempted by the simple BLT but decided to forgo my intuition and appetite and to instead try what I assumed to be a signature dish, the Courthouse Burger. They offered two different kinds of fries, shoestring and steak. My preference is somewhere in between, but I asked for the shoestring.

Adam asked for the Defender, a hand-cut ribeye steak served on grilled Texas toast. He asked for the steak fries, I was glad, I wanted to compare them against mine.

Cheese, bacon, mushrooms and grilled onions are considered options here. At one dollar per. I added cheddar cheese to mine and the waitress worked to up-sell the onions or mushrooms. I told her I might want the onions but the dollar would come out of her tip. She grinned and shrugged her shoulders, "Fine with me” she said.

Angel asked for the Gulf Shrimp Scampi and two sides, a baked potato and vegetables. Today’s veggie was ‘a medley’ according to the waitress, it sounded like Veg-All to me.

I noticed that the waitress wrote none of this down. As I’ve said before, this is a neat trick if you can pull it off 100% of the time, error free. Otherwise its just a stupid, pointless trick that is more nuisance than impressive. I’ve never been annoyed by a waitress writing down details of an order. I have been annoyed, more often than not, when they get something this simple, wrong.

The Defender

But we’d wait and see. And wait we did. The place was busy, busier than I could figure out a reason for it to be that busy. Hillsboro has a population of only sixteen hundred or so, and this was certainly a local-centric place being located behind the courthouse. It was Saturday evening, no court, no county business at all, even the nearby county jail wasn’t doing a booming business (yet). The patrons seemed local-like, no suits, mostly jeans and boots. Several young cowboy types including two rather large groups. Tight jeans, snakeskin boots, camouflage ball caps, Skoal rings in the hip pockets. I was trying to figure out what the draw to a brand new place was until one of the cowboys answered his country-music ring-toned phone. After the initial hello’s he said “We’re up here in Hillsboro.”

That told me a lot. He and his gang were not locals at all, they were in from the southern, more rural parts of the county, thus the ’up here in Hillsboro.’ I suspected there might be an event at the fairgrounds or something like that.*

I watched, waited, Adam and Angel poked at their phones.

Our drinks needed refills before the food ever arrived. The wait wasn’t terrible but it was noticeable. The waitresses appeared to be in a rush, dashing about more with  hurry than efficiency.  Several other patrons arrived and were told to sit wherever they liked. This would be a problem later. I’ll explain when I get to the sermon portion of this review.

Gulf Shrimp Scampi

The food did arrive, and it looked good. Filled plates, sizzling meat, melting cheese. I had enough grilled onions to choke a unicorn, they were piled high on the burger and falling off the sides. There was a pale tomato slice, some slightly wilted lettuce and an entire slice of raw onion on the side  The fries were not exactly what I would call ‘shoestring’ but they looked toasty and crispy. Also on the plate was a large dill wedge. The bun was obviously not a grocery store generic bun. I appreciated the touch. Adam’s Texas toast looked very good, and Angel’s plate certainly seemed colorful. The waitress stepped away quickly and I noticed as I was photographing the plates, Adam’s first, he’s the most impatient about that sort of thing, that his fries were the same size as mine. The waitress had gotten the order wrong, so much for the ‘I can remember all this without writing it down’ party trick. Fail.

Adam wasn’t too concerned about it so we didn’t ask for a correction.

We dug in after the waitress returned with some ketchup and cocktail sauce. She asked if I’d like mustard. Duh. It’s a burger. “Yes Please.” is how it actually came out of my mouth.

The burger was quite good, cheesy, smoky, just enough char. The fries were nice, but it kind of seemed they were pulled from the bottom of the bag, more ends and short pieces than whole strips.

The Courthouse burger

Adam struggled with his ribeye, pulling globs of chewy fat out of it, one glob about half the size of the steak.

Angel handed me a shrimp, I tried it. It seemed a bit overcooked, rubbery, but the taste was dead-on scampi.

I asked her about the veggies. They looked kind of pale, limp and lifeless to me, almost . . . “Frozen” Angel said, interrupting my train of thought. Yeah, that was it, they looked frozen.

Don’t take this all the wrong way, as far as food goes it was all pretty good. Not great, but good enough to go back for and maybe try something else. They’ve got good recipes, the tastes were there, with a little fine tuning and fresher/better quality ingredients the problems can all be fixed easily enough. But then there’s. . .

The Service:

First off, this place is brand new. I always cut some slack for new places as it takes time for the staff to find its rhythm and timing. So my sermon here should not be taken as harsh criticism, but rather as constructive comments since I want this place to do well. Hillsboro needs a place just like this.

I mentioned earlier the ‘seat yourself’ policy. Epic fail. (we debated over the modifier ‘epic’ and I won with this one bit of observation:

An elderly couple came in and found a seat, not too far from the front door. I’d noticed them out of the corner of my eye for no real reason other than they were taking up space in the corner of my eye. Nicely dressed, quiet, peaceful folk, not at all like the cowboys and their halter-topped lady friends.  Several minutes later, maybe ten or fifteen, I noticed movement in that same eye corner. It was the old couple leaving. I noticed their table had no plates, glasses or even menus. They’d gone completely unnoticed by the wait staff. That’s an epic fail.  Lost business, lost positive word of mouth. Ouch. I’m as laissez faire as the next guy, but this free-range seating policy means customers will slip through the cracks. It is actually counter-productive and counter-profit. The solution is simple. Either assign a hostess to seat people so they get immediate welcome and attention, or failing that, assign a floor supervisor/expediter whose primary job it is to keep an eye peeled on the entire dining area to look for things like impatience, empty glasses, etc. This is how every other restaurant in the world handles front-of-the-house service.  Someone needs to keep an eye open, a designated person, not just the waitresses, they’re busy enough with their own table issues. Someone like, I don’t know, maybe the lady behind the bar that watched the couple leave. She noticed them as they left, I could tell.

This ‘seat yourself’ policy also meant lopsided service areas for the waitresses. Most people don’t really have a firm seating preference, they’ll go where you take them. This allows balance in the dining area, waitresses given grids, specific areas to serve on a balanced, level playing field.  This also explains the issue with twice being asked for our drink order, inefficiency, counter-productivity, disorganization. Not very professional. But so easily fixed. It’s a new place, when we go back in a couple of months we will be looking for this to have been resolved. Seat yourself works in a tiny, ten table diner, not in a full-floor dining area. Also, make the wait staff writes down orders, nobody minds this, but they do mind when their order gets screwed up.

Now the food. Like I said it was pretty good and the problems are easily enough resolved. Trim the excess fat off of steaks, even steak sandwiches. It was simply gross. “Not very satisfying” Is how Adam put it. And seriously guys, the vegetable of the day was frozen? Really? There ought to be a law.

Summary:

Once again this is a brand new place. The food was for the most part good, the selections were attractive and in theory all good ideas. This is not a greasy spoon nor fast food joint, it is expected that the food will be of better quality than those places. It is expected that the service as well will be better. All this place needs to do is fix these little problems and this could be upgraded to a very good place rather quickly.

The bill came to a respectable thirty six dollars and change, including the dollar for the two cents worth of grilled onions. Though not as expensive as some franchise sports bars, or even Munzert’s right up the road, this is about fifty percent more than a diner or fast food place. For this extra cost the service and food quality needs to make it seem worth it.

They’re off to a good start, you’ve got a great location and the city needs a place just like this, but it will not suffer bad service for very long.

___________________

*As it turned out there was a tractor pull at the fairgrounds. This explained the unexpected busyness of the restaurants, the traffic jam on main street, and the much greater than normal number of big, black-smoke-belching diesel pickup trucks in town. Yee- haw.

Gus’ Pretzels

1820 Arsenal

St. Louis Mo.

http://www.guspretzels.com/

Friday night, December 30, Angel asked me what kind of snacks I’d like for New Year’s Eve.  Snacking, grazing, is what we do to celebrate the event. No meal, no party, no fireworks (unless weather allows) we don’t even stay up till midnight, settling instead to celebrate with the east coast. (we used to live there so it’s not cheating)

She’d been to the grocery that day and stocked up on the usual. Baby carrots, chips, dip, cheeses, little weenies and barbecue sauce. I didn’t think much of it at the time, what she already had sounded sufficient.

Later that evening I was struck by a craving. Soft pretzels, I hadn’t had one in years. Saturday morning, recalling the notion, I tried to figure out where I could get some. There are always the frozen varieties in of grocery stores, that would do, I first thought. I then shifted to fresh, like at Auntie Annie’s at the malls. I like those just fine, but they are at the mall, a place I normally only visit under threat of certain and severe torture. Then I started to recall the last soft pretzel  I’d had.   

I was working downtown at that large beer company, whose name I shall not mention. My boss, Tom, and sometimes Wings or Art, and maybe a few others would stop at Gus’ Pretzels on the way in to work and buy a big bag of soft, hot pretzels and pass them around.  I refuse a lot of food at work, I can walk right past massive piles of donuts or bagels, but those pretzels…mmmmm….

I looked them up on the web, thirty six miles from my humble rural compound. A seventy two mile round trip.  The more I thought of it though, the more it seemed worth it.

As luck would have it though Angel was getting ready to make a run into the city to drop off a dog and deliver a blanket for another one. Bennie had stayed with us for a few days but inadvertently left his favorite blanket behind when he was picked up. The blanket portion of the trip would put her a mere five miles from 1820 Arsenal. I showed her the web site, the hours of operation, and directions. She was interested but not infinitely so, the best I could get from her was a tacit, “I’ll see what I can do.”

With fingers crossed and plans B, C, and D being mulled over, I sat back and tended to the needs of the remaining dogs and household while she was out. (Actually I just watched part of the Marx brothers classic ‘A day at the Races’ on TV)

The Place:

Gus’ is ‘in the shadow’ of that brewery I mentioned, so if you’re in St. Louis and taking the tour of the brewery ( I can still recommend that) You’re only a few steps away.

It’s not really surprising for pretzels to be a part of the landscape here. The same Germans that immigrated to the area and started brewing beer also created a market, and brought the requisite skills to create other Germanic institutions, such as pretzels.  And what goes better with beer, than pretzels? Gus’ has been in the same location since first opening in 1920. Three generations of pretzel twisters have managed the shop for nearly a hundred years. It’s not at all surprising that they are quite good at it. They’ve expanded some over the years, and their following has grown with them.  Angel reported, through a mouth full of ‘endz’,  that the place was packed, the parking lot full. People were inside ordering up big batches, twenty, fifty or more to adorn their own party snack tables. Apparently word had gotten around quickly after I first thought it up. We may have created a new tradition here.

The Food:

It’s soft, hot pretzels, just like ‘mutter und vater’ used to make. If you had an old country set of Teutonic parents anyhow.

They offer twists and sticks, and ‘Endz’ as well as pretzel sandwiches, dips and fancy ‘party pretzels’ See the menu for pics and prices.

And those prices!  Unbeatable! Fresh soft pretzels for fifty five cents or less, if you grab a big ol’ bag full. And why wouldn’t you?  Angel brought back a dozen twists, a bag of endz, and some dip, for pretty much less than a single meal at any of our usual eateries would cost, less than $15.

I recommend cheddar cheese for dipping, but that’s not your only option. Sometime I just spread some yellow mustard on them.

They were as good as I remembered, soft, buttery, salty. (I don’t mind pretzels being salty, it seems natural)

Fifteen seconds in the microwave reheats them nicely, the cheese gets all gooey. I love ‘em, Blue and Bailey loved what little I offered them, and Angel and Adam have seen the light as well.

Summary:

Though not a complete meal, these things are an excellent, low-fat snack or breakfast. The fact that these are freshly made, though frozen are available in local grocery stores, make them a real treat. I highly recommend you make the trip even if you have no other reason to visit downtown St. Louis. You’ll be glad you did.

Frohes neues Jahr!  (Happy new year, in German)