Taytro's Noir

We rolled up to the shiny brick dive in the big brown cruiser, slammed its doors and marched ourselves right in to the joint. We stopped at the front, tried to look mean, dangerous, because that’s all this crazy world respects.

The young vixen eyed us, glanced over at the tables, then back at us. In that short span she’d weighed the odds, figured the chances and made up her mind, a real pro.

“Three?” She asked with a soft voice and a mild accent that pegged her as being brought up in some backwater village that only recently discovered the joys of indoor plumbing.  At least  she had a brain inside her, she could count.

“Three.” Angel answered; I’d dodged that chore once again. Angel’s prettier than me, more friendly than me and I use her as our mouthpiece whenever I can. Less hassle, less violence that way.

The girl tried to sit us right at the door. It was all I could do to keep myself from throttling her to a pulp right then and there. “That’s right cupcake, put us by the swinging door, grimy strangers bumping over us, everybody and their aunt squeezing around us! Sure, put us there ‘cause it’s three and a half feet closer to your station than the dozen or so empty tables by the window! Great thinking! Great customer skills there Lazy Nancy!”

Angel beat me to it though. “Could we have a table away from the door please?” She cooed. Angel coos a lot, it’s part of the reason this lousy lug fell over himself, ass over hat,  in love with her all those years ago. She’s got the girly charm, the velvet voice, the soft eyes that belie the tough, twisted nut she really is. I’m all up front, right there on main street. People run away just catching sight of me.

The girl got wise, probably sensed me seething and fuming. “Sure.” Was all she could manage to say. Then she pointed at a better spot. “Good girl!” I thought. “Thanks.” Angel cooed. Adam followed, we did the dance, them looking to see which chair I picked. They know I have to watch the joint, the comings and goings, so I get first pick of the seat. Like good little lackeys they plopped down in turn, with quiet respect and deserved awe.

Another girl, also a local, crept up to us with a fistful of menus. She didn’t waste any time, this gal. Good for her, I didn’t need any nonsense this foul night.

I needed a beer, the gal must have seen it in my eyes and she stood up to the challenge. Nothing sparkly and clear for me, I needed it dark and strong. “Sam Adams Spring Ale?" She played. I nodded, that would do swell. Angel and the boy wimped out and screamed for Cokes, regular for the lad, diet for the lady.

The girl slapped down the menus then took her leave.

We looked through them even though we didn’t really need to. We picked this joint because we wanted a Louisiana po’ boy and this is the only place standing in the county that can take a simple concept like that and make it halfway edible. Shrimp, catfish, didn’t matter, pick your meat and stuff your gut.

The boy asked his mama about an appetizer. Sounded too frilly for me, I didn’t need my appetite teased, I needed a sandwich. Angel’s a soft touch though, much softer than me. I was ready to kick his ass to the parking lot just for opening his yap, but she turned on that charm of hers and colluded with the boy. By the time the dust settled on that hairy debate they’d agreed to the chicken tenders. They’re made like the wings, just without the bones. I didn’t care, not my thing. I’d try one just to shut them up, but I wouldn’t like it much, I’d already decided.

The girl came slinking back with our drinks, the beer looked cold and drippy. She sat it on the paper coaster in front of me, snapping her hand away before I could slap it.

I spat out my food order, barely containing the raging harshness I held in me. Once again, Angel softened the air up and ordered like there was no screaming, no blood on the near horizon. She’s somehow immune to the furious storms I see, plays like she’s not even aware of the twitching, rusty edge all around us. She can play the crowd like she’s all ice cream and cake when I know they’re all just drooling and snapping for the chance to whip and stab us as soon as I let my guard down.

The beer was cold, damned cold, as cold as an ex-wife.  It hit my throat like a glacier on a camp fire, shaved off some of the rasp, and hit my belly soft as a pillow. My ragged brain took hold of the alcohol and pleasured itself for a second or two of calm. A dangerous thing, beer. Makes a man think everything is hunky-dory, especially when it ain’t. This is why booze causes so many marriages, even a big thug can go all weak and stupid with this stuff sloshing around in him.

We had to wait for the tenders, this did not settle well with me. All I could do was sit and stare out the window at the local fuzz messing with a man for having too cool a ride to be allowed to be left alone. Cops gotta mess with the boys, they’ve just gotta. Makes up for their own puniness I suspect.

By the time, and it seemed like hours, the girl came back with the teaser, I’d already considered busting up the joint. I’m not a patient fella, and when I’m all ready for something and it ain’t coming around, then I’m liable to go Viking and tear a place down. I can sit and wait at home, or in a pretty park, or in a john boat with trout swarming beneath me. I go to eating places to eat, not stare out the window and listen to some brat at the next table spit and scream.

Angel and our boy tore into the little brown chunks, I took one and pretended to like it. It wasn’t awful, I was just too fired up and ready to leap to be cheated by something less than what I came here for.

More waiting. The beer was half gone, my noggin starting to seriously fog, and the big girl behind the bar was starting to look prettier by the minute. She wasn’t homely when I was sober but here I was with an early buzz and she got downright appealing. Her hair, raven black and the bangs cut short above her soft round face made me think of Betty Page, but then, lots of things make me think of Betty Page. A timeless classic, ahead of her time. Willing to put it all out there for people to point at and sweat about and still grin and giggle like a school girl when the fat checks poured in. No dummy, Betty Page, smart, real smart. Too bad she went nuts.

The big girl behind the bar was chuckling up the stoolies, talking a bit too loud for my liking after a while. I thought maybe she needed a big lug to step up, take hold of that silly apron and yell down at her face to shut up for a few lousy minutes. I woulda’ done it myself, but Angel doesn’t take kindly to me when I sometimes do what should be done. She likes us to sit and be quiet, which is tough for me with so much stupid noise coming from all angles.
A couple came in and pretended to be harmless. I was on to them from the get-go. They were up to something savage, I could tell by the way they didn’t slam the doors on their late model Taurus when they pulled up. The woman made a phone call on her portable, probably checking in with the lookouts I couldn’t see. They were a clever pair. Looking at them, an ignorant civilian would just think they were a grey-haired man and wife out for a good meal. I felt it in my gut though, as sure as I feel the festering boil on my butt, they were here to stir up some mayhem. I was torn between letting it happen and putting an end to it right then and there. They wouldn’t see me coming, I’d hit them like a spring storm and shred them to nubs before they had a chance to sip those fruity drinks in front of them. I’d leave a pile of mush on the floor and then go back to my table and order some sweet dessert. I decided to let them simmer in their own evil for a while, let them lead this early part of the dance, see what played out. I had enough moves in me, all planned out, to stop the impending madness before John Q. Public got much more than a bloody nose. They must have been on to me though, they played it cool the whole time. I’d shut this carnage down without lifting a finger. Wimps. I was ready to play, they just got scared.

I was about to put my fist through the window when the girl finally brought me my sandwich. I was tempted to pinch her on the tail to show my appreciation, but she slithered away too quick. Her loss. There was a pile of shrimp, some greens and some pale tomatoes. Then there was the sauce. I’d had it before, and liked it plenty, even though I’m pretty sure they hired someone special just to spit in mine, or rub it in the floor first. People treat me that way all the time, I’m pretty sure. It just makes me tougher, meaner, scarier though. That’s the secret. There’s plenty of bums out there that want to put you down, they want to make their mark. The only way to squash it is to soak up what they toss at you and wear it like a pretty bonnet. They’ve got no play after that craziness, the smart ones will leave you alone and live another day.

The first bite hit me like a brand new day. The flavors jumped out like the different color crayons in a new box. The bread was thick, maybe too thick, but it didn’t really mess up the meal. The fries were spicy, a little, hardly enough to knock over a real man though. It takes a big bit more than a limp-wristed dollop of citrus-chipotle-mayo to put me on my beefy keester.
I choked it all down in just a few bites, the beer was nearly at room temperature but it was strong enough still to wash it all down. It would have to do, any more than one beer makes me nuts, crazy, loony-tunes nuts. Ask anyone.

The deal came to over forty smackers, robbery. Back in the day a man could buy a house for forty bucks, not anymore. Now, with all those commies in congress, a man has to work two or three weeks just to come up with a c-note. But I paid, because that’s what a guy is supposed to do in these lilly-livered enlightened times.
We  took our leave, I gave the sneaky couple a glance just to let them know they'd been made.  The server girls cheered up and called out their thanks, still naively unaware how close we'd all come to bloody carnage. We'd be back, even as dangerous as this place was, we'd be back. The big brown cruiser found it's purchase in the asphalt and we jumped out onto the highway. One more stop before we headed back to the bunker. Blockbuster. Sometimes even a tough, grizzly guy like me just needs to chill out with a heartwarming chick-flick. Yeah, I'm sensitive like that.


http://www.urbanspoon.com/r/28/1556154/restaurant/St-Louis/Taytros-Bar-and-Bistro-Festus

Taytro's Bar and Bistro

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


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

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

Taytro's Bar and Bistro

343 North Creek Drive
Festus, MO
On Facebook

Still tethered to my work tasks, I assigned my able co-reviewers, Angel and Adam, to take pictures, make observations, then report back their findings. They were not alone, Tyler, Angel's oldest son, his lovely and charming wife Tonya, and their two year old daughter Kensington, were their guests. They were in town to take the lovable little brat to the zoo.
Yeah, I know, I usually say I don't like kids, but this is family. Kensington was a little shy, but I helped her bond with me a bit better by stealing her teddy bear, twice. This at least led to animosity, which is in my experience, the crucial first step in any lasting relationship.
I've been to this place several times, I didn't need to see it again just to write about it.
When they got home I approached them one at a time for their assessment.
The Place:
Taytro's is one of our favorite joints. It's not large or fancy, but the food is usually pretty darn good. We've been trying to get Tyler there for a while. He's of Cajun descent. Though he's never been to Louisiana, his father and grandfather carried remnants of that culture their entire lives. BTW, Tyler is the young man that created the logo for this blog site. He was kind of tough as a stepkid, but he has grown up to be a very decent, respectable, responsible man, a loving and devoted husband and doting father.
They were seated and waited on by a young lady who Tonya said reminded her of Tara Reid. I made note of that and looked it up later. It turns out that Reid is some sort of celebrity that even I might have seen at some time.  She was in several movies I'd heard of, mostly ones that I never bothered watching.
The Food:

Shrimp Etouffee

Tyler had the Shrimp Etouffee and the fries. "Delicious, but I don't really have anything to compare it too, I've never had etouffee before."
I found that hard to believe.
"I find that hard to believe." I said. "Too bad, it's true." he replied. "I also had the house salad with the poppy seed dressing. I really liked that." He added, verbally italicizing that word just like I wrote it.
Tonya had the Fried Shrimp Po' Boy, one of my favorites. "It was good, not overly shrimpy." She said, with that charming, heart-warming smile of hers.

Pulled Pork

Kensington had the chicken strips and fries. Pressed for a comment, I finally got her to tell me "Not good for you." about the chicken. Her way, according to her mom, to say she doesn't like something. Tonya added that the fries were seasoned and the baby girl didn't seem to like that either.
Adam had the pulled pork sandwich and the house-made chips. They'd put the barbecue sauce on the side this time, add as much or little as you like. He of course, liked it, it's what he always gets there. "The chips were a little too spicy." he added, no too spicy, but more than I usually like."
Angel pushed the envelope, asking for something not even on the menu.
"The menu said to ask about the oysters, so I did. I wanted a fried oyster Po'

Fried Oyster Po' Boy.

Boy."  Tara went to the back to conference with the chef and came back saying yup, they could do that. "The breading was a little heavy, but not too bad."
Tyler added "I tried one of the oysters, it was pretty good, mainly because it was heavily breaded."
He'd said he'd never had an oyster he actually enjoyed before.
I'll take them at their word.

Gator Bites and Fried Ravioli

For appetizers, they'd ordered two, the 'Gator Bites' and since this was near St. Louis, the Fried Ravioli. All agreed that the gator bites were good, a little chewy, but not too much so. They also all agreed on the ravioli. Nothing to write home about. Tonya even added that they tasted 'canned'.This is what you'll find at most places though, only a few in my experience put a lot of effort into this tidbit.

Summary:

Shrimp Po' Boy

Taytro's is a sure thing. It's just good. They don't have a huge menu, but what they do make is mostly above par. I failed to mention the drinks, Tonya and Tyler, to my disappointment had water, Angel had sweet tea, and Adam had a Coke.
"For what it's worth I wasn't very impressed with the water." Tonya said, sensing my disapproval with their non-committal drink choice.
The service was great, Tara kept the drinks filled and the servings timely. "If we lived here we'd certainly go back." Tyler concluded.
Full Disclosure, a confession: I'm probably part of the reason Kensington didn't eat anything. Earlier in the day, while still trying to establish a relationship with her, I applied step two in my secret formula for getting girls to like me. Bribe them with food. We'd shared several peanuts, even after her mom had told me that the little tot didn't like peanuts. I know this works, my own granddaughter, Caprice, remembers us sharing barbecue potato chips back when she wasn't much older. Even Angel remembers where we went on our first date. Burger King, 'cause I know what the ladies like.
Taytro's is good, better than just good.
More to that point, I'm not at all nervous about sending people there.

Taytro's

I'd been craving a steak.
We went out on Sunday this time, Saturday we had stayed in and hosted the doggy birthday party. We do this every year on, and instead of, our anniversary. We've run out of ideas for gifts for each other, so we set the day to be all of our dogs' birthdays. This works out well since some of our dogs, all of them rescued, have no known birthday, or for a couple of them, no actual known birth year. So we made one up.

Pip and George desire a burger.

         This weekend Bailey turned 14, George 9, Blue 8, Deedee 5 and Pip 4.
The neatest part of the tradition is that whatever other dogs happen to be at our house, and that can vary from two fosters through a half dozen board and training clients, they get burgers and fries from McDonalds.
I mentioned this on Facebook and one of my so-called 'friends', also a follower of these pages, commented: 'McDonalds?'
 I replied:
Yes, McD's. I realize that I have given the place bad reviews and several negative comments, but I don't have a dog's taste buds... They absolutely love the stuff. I don't know why, but they also seem to like the smell/taste of their own 'backsides'.... What does that say?
So that was Saturday. On Sunday I wanted steak.
Angel and Adam decided on Taytro's and insisted I was in on that conversation, I don't recall it, but I was not disappointed.
The Place:
On the hill in Festus. Busy, bustling. We had to park well away from the entrance.

Ravioli appetizer

Most of the tables were full, and the bar was half full. There was a 'seat yourself' sign up, so we did, right in the middle of the dining area. It's not a big place, but they didn't cram too many tables together.
Menus were delivered, drinks asked for, tea, sweet tea and Coke. The lady rattled off the specials, one sounded pretty good. Angel and Adam also went for an appetizer, the ubiquitous fried ravioli.
A large family (not individually large, just large in number) at the table next to us bowed their head and said grace. I thought it a bit odd in this bar, this den of iniquity. Well, maybe not total iniquity, a lot of families eat there as it turns out, but it is a bar.
The Food:
I asked for the special, a 12 oz. Philly Steak with peppers, onions, mushrooms and a savory sauce. I asked for the salad with the wonderful poppy seed house dressing, and snap peas for the side. No potato this time, I wanted to eat a lot of steak.
Adam went with the diner burger, no onions please, and fries, Angel predictably asked for the crawfish etouffee again, with a salad.
The ravioli arrived, I skipped it. I wanted steak, no need filling up on empty deep-fried carbs beforehand. Angel and Adam didn't seem to mind that I was skipping the crispy meat filled pasta, "More for us." one of them muttered.
They did a thorough job, no argument came up until there was only one left.
The salads arrived, I donated the big white bread croutons to Adam. A pretty simple salad of lettuce, spinach, red onions, some shredded white cheese and an entire cherry tomato. The dressing is killer, a sweet poppy seed vinaigrette concoction created in-house. I had to use the knife to cut up the onions and most of the greens, not too much of a problem, though a slight nuisance. Sure, onion rings are pretty, but I can't stick a whole one into my mouth at one time.

Steak!

Otherwise it was quite good, up until two thirds into it when . . .
The entree's arrived. I hate that. I don't know what the proper serving protocol actually is, but I really like to finish one thing before another is delivered. However, there was a bright spot in this arrangement.
Adam opened his no-onions-please burger and realized he should have ordered it no onions or tomato instead. Two big fat and pretty tomato slices on top of his bacon. He slid them off and laid them into my salad plate. "Happy Father's Day" he said. I was quite pleased. Taytro's is kind of stingy with tomatoes in their salads, and I love tomatoes.

Crawfish Etouffee

My steak was sizzling, I knew that wouldn't last. It was a monster, edge to edge in one direction on the plate. Beside it were some of the greenest sauteed snap peas I've ever seen, in a little ramekin of their own. The steak was smothered in a thin sauce, chunks of peppers, onions and mushrooms aplenty. I took the steak knife to the crusty southern point of the meat, felt a little fat and gristle. The taste was superb though. Grilled, a little char, still pink, and soaked with that sauce, simply great tasting.
A few bites in though, the gristle was still there. I'm not sure what cut a Philly steak actually is, though in places it seemed more like' filly', as in horse.
I was not having any problems eating most of the steak. I still didn't finish it, it was huge, but it was quite meaty and tasty. The only thing I'd change in the future will be the cut of meat. A couple extra bucks would be worth it.

Diner burger, no onions

The snap peas were okay, I prefer them raw though, sauteing them seemed to bring out the 'green' taste. I could only manage to eat a few.
Angel couldn't quite finish all the rice in her etouffee, the grains expanded in her tummy to the size of packing peanuts, she said. She did manage to strip the crawdad carcasses bare though. She loves the stuff, simply loves it.
Adam left nothing behind. He fussed a bit with the arrangement of the bacon on the top of the burger, but it all disappeared.

Summary:
The bill: $58.51
I love Taytro's. However there are a couple of minor points about this trip that I must bring up. First, the timing of the entree, too soon after the delivery of the salad. Secondly, when we were done, and after the waitress had taken away most of the plates and was then told that yes, we'd like the check, she disappeared.
This is not actually true. It's a small place so she didn't actually drop out of site, she just ignored us for several minutes. She was behind the bar chatting up a couple of guys. It wasn't flirty, just bartender-talk. I resorted to trying to get her attention, then just staring at her, fidgeting restlessly in my chair. She finally noticed, rang up the check and delivered it without offering so much as a simple 'sorry!'
Thinking she might disappear again, rather than just accepting the check, I handed her my powerful debit card. It's a trick I learned on this quest. Sometimes, at some places,  the time lag between them delivering the check and then coming back around to take the card can extend into several minutes of unnecessary overtime.
Also, that cut of meat, the Philly, is not quite worth the premium price. I believe the 12 oz. ribeye cost about the same.
The food was prepared very well though. Taytro's menu is not expansive, but mostly what they prepare is very good.

Taytro's

343 North Creek Drive
Festus, Mo.

On the web.

On Facebook

 Sometime during the week I’d decided that this would be a great idea. We hadn’t been there in a while and we all like it. Without dissent we headed out Saturday evening. The day had been dark and dreary, December showing its true nature. Birthdays and holidays encroaching too quickly, associated stresses were building. I’d slept in and was late to my writers club Christmas party and arrived in an inexplicable and unforgivable asocial mood. Not harsh and rude or anti-social, just a-social, quiet and sulky. I get these moods once in a while and usually just have to wait them out.

I busied myself later by making my weekly run to Wal-Mart and engaging in a couple of other banal chores.

By Saturday evening the mood had subsided and I was coasting along in neutral. I looked forward to a pleasant meal at a nice place.

The Place:

The parking lot was pretty full but there were several good tables still available. I was pleased to see that Taytro’s hadn’t gone nuts decorating for the over-hyped holiday season. A single string of small lights entwined with a grapevine above the bar, I wasn’t even certain that it was holiday related.

We were led to a table in the front corner, a table that was too close to the occupied one next to it. We asked and were allowed to pull the table away. We sat and were told that Heather would be serving us.

The place, even near the window, was dimly lit, which is usually a good thing. Then we were handed the menus. There was a problem. The menus were black and lettered with small white type. Very classy, but nearly impossible for two middle-aged, bifocal-prescribed patrons. Angel and I struggled to read the thing. Adam helped translate, though his inherited eyesight wasn’t a lot better.

The offerings had changed a little since we were last there, maybe, some things seemed to be missing, though we could not recall exactly what.

There were specials being added to the chalkboard as we arrived. Fish and Chips and Chicken Picatta stir fry.

Taytro’s makes po’ boys, a great, simple sandwich. The  more I thought about it though, the more the fish and chips sounded pretty good.

The Food:

  Angel’s choice was hardly surprising. Crawfish Etouffee. Adam chose the Buffalo Chicken Po’boy with chips, I ordered the fish and chips with fries instead of chips which is what fish and chips actually means. In Great Britain, which is somewhere between England and the United Kingdom, ‘fish and chips’ is peasant food, street food, meant to be eaten on the go, like a hoot dog.  This is an important characteristic of the offering that I will get back to later.  Anyway the first fish and chip shop opened in London in 1860. This fact surprised me since I thought Long John Silver's had invented fish and chips sometime in the 1970’s, that's where I first heard of it anyhow.
For some stupid reason, the British call French fries ‘chips’. This is not really surprising however since the British are quite happy to butcher the language for no good reason. What we, God-fearing, freedom loving Americans call ‘chips’ are stubbornly referred to as crisps’ in the UK, even though the word ‘crisps’ sounds silly and is quite cumbersome to pronounce. An ‘s’ followed by a hard ‘p’ and then another ‘s’. It’s just much more oral calisthenics that is necessary. Go ahead, say the word. It’s a lot of work.

Angel got a salad with her meal, I did not. Too bad, Taytro’s salads are quite tasty, the house poppy seed dressing is rather sweet, though the salad is not drowned by it.

They also decided on fried ravioli, that St. Louis area staple, as an appetizer. I like it okay, but I’m not nuts for it. I had three.

To make them you take or make meaty, cheesy ravioli and boil it like you normally would. Then you let it dry a little, bread  and deep fry. Why deep fry? Because, like I said, this is America! They turn out as crispy finger food. Traditionally they are served with a marinara sauce for dipping.

Buffalo Chicken Po' Boy

Our drinks arrived before the appetizers and salads, as they should. Tea for me, Diet Coke for the lady, and root beer for the boy. The tea was actually quite good, a rare occurrence in the area.

Overhead the flat screens played sports, real sports, women’s volleyball. This was a college match and was taking place on a hard surface indoors. That of course takes a little something away from the purest form of the game, namely the skimpy bikinis that are worn by the beach-version contenders. It was still far better than football, baseball, basketball or that bewilderingly popular non-sport NASCAR.

The appetizers and salad came and went quickly. Quite good.

The place continued to fill at a regular pace. It was good to see a locally owned and operated joint doing so well.

The plates finally arrived. Angel’s etouffee was just as expected. Two bright red crawdads sitting atop a brown, saucy stew and two dollops of rice. Adam’s sandwich and chips looked good, he’d ordered his without onion and they complied.

Crawfish Etouffee

 My fish and chips looked. . . off… somehow. Small chunks of cod lightly breaded, fried and mixed among a plateful of fries, a small metal ramekin of sauce on the side. 

I’m used to fish, when served as fish and chips, to be thin filets, heavy-battered, fried crisp with the thick fried batter holding the flaky fish together, like at Long John Silver’s and every other place I’ve ever had fish and chips.

Then things started falling apart, literally. I picked up the first chunk of fish and the breading slipped right off, like knickers off a trollop . The cod flaked off and fell into the dipping sauce. I ended up using a fork to get it all out. The rest of the nuggets proved to be just as much a struggle.

Fish and Chips

The taste of the fish itself was bland. Not bad, in fact the amount of cooking was perfect, the fish moist and flaky but it had no flavor and the light breading offered up. . .nothing. The dipping sauce was wrong, all wrong. It was not tartar sauce, it was something else. Not sweet, sort of savory and maybe made with chipotle.  The taste of the sauce, the texture and frail mechanics of the fish made for a disappointing meal for me.
Angel and Adam though were quite pleased. Angel disassembled the crawdads and slurped down the luscious meaty bits. “Good as always.” She sighed. Adam’s only remark was about the amount of bread on his sandwich: “Too bread-y.”

Summary:

We really like this place. Most everything they serve is excellent. The service is great, the atmosphere is cozy and friendly, and Taytro’s offers dishes that no one else around does. The bill came to a reasonable $46.59.
My gripes about the fish and chips are serious, but not bad enough to keep me from going back. They offer many things I like quite well, I just thought I’d mix it up on this visit. I cannot recommend the fish and chips, it simply doesn’t work as served. Perhaps a more traditional approach would be better, and there’s really nothing wrong with plain tartar sauce.

Taytro’s Bar and Bistro

343 North Creek Dr.

Festus, Mo

http://taytros.com/

Adam’s choice. Some suggestions you just don’t argue with. We’ve liked it every time we’ve been.

The Place:

Atop the hill near the intersection of Highways A and 61/67. In a shopping center next to a Verizon Wireless store. The place has only been open a year and still looked clean and crisp. It still had that new restaurant smell.

There were no other diners, it was early, the live music wasn’t going to start for three more hours. There were a few patrons at the bar. The hostess, the one that always reminds me of Kirstin Dunst, seated us in the very back, against the wall where the entertainment would be staged later. On the wall behind us were several guitars posing as art. Alongside them was a picture of a lobster, or a large shrimp, or maybe a crawdad, playing an upright bass. It was pretty dark in the back, there were decorative oil lamps on each table, though none of them were lit.

The menus were familiar and simple. I wanted a Po’ Boy, a sandwich, Angel was unsure. We ordered our drinks, tea, sweet tea and Coke. We discussed appetizers a bit. Angel wanted to try the Gator Bites, Adam refused to accept the notion that gator might actually be edible. The drinks were delivered quickly, we shooed away the waitress for a little more time. The tea was heavenly, perfect.

The Food:

Gator Bites

Angel finally decided and we ordered. For appetizers, the aforementioned gator bites, made from the tail meat from an alligator, breaded and fried in little strips. We also got the wings, which by default are fried, then glazed in a honey and butter sauce.  We considered getting an appetizer sampler that had both of these, but at $18 it cost more than two individual appetizers, at $8 and $7 each.

For entrees, I asked for a catfish po’ boy and fries, Angel returned to a favorite, crawfish etouffee, with a salad served with the house poppy seed dressing. Adam asked for more chicken, in po’ boy form, with fries.

As we waited I looked around and noticed the wall-mounted TV’s were showing college football, no one seemed to be paying the games much attention. The sound was muted. Delta blues played in the background, not too loudly though. We chatted about typical things, schedules, plans, each other’s deficiencies, and the latest funny thing we saw on Facebook.

The appetizers arrived, two shallow bowls holding the proteins and in the center, a ramekin of sauce. Ranch dressing for the wings, a remoulade* with the gator. The gator looked like breaded and fried clams, which made me reluctant. I let Angel try one, she nodded and didn’t drop dead or fall into a twitching seizure. I tried one, without the remoulade, to get the real deal. It was denser than chicken, and had a taste only a bit more earthy, maybe a slight seafood taste, but only very slight. If I had been told that this was indeed chicken, just prepared slightly differently, I would not have thought anything of it. The remoulade made it even better. A bit of heat, a bit sweet.

Catfish Po' Boy

Angel and Adam shared the wings, which were declared sweet and crunchy, not hot, though the glaze looked deceptively like other places’ hot wings. I tried a tiny portion and concurred that they were quite good. The gator bites disappeared, as did the grilled toast that accompanied them.

In short time the entrees arrived. The catfish filet on my po’ boy was enormous. I had assumed that they would make the sandwich from small strips, but no, they went for a big fat filet. Knowing I would likely not eat all of it, I cut it in half.

Adam had no such reservations, even though the large chicken filet, like my fish, exceeded the size of the hoagie on which it was served and was glazed the same as the wings.

Crawfish Etouffee

The fish was very moist and quite thick. The fries were lightly seasoned and crispy. Angel ‘yummed’ quite a bit as she dug around the rice and sauce to find every morsel of crawdad  and andouille sausage.

It was pretty quiet as we ate, too busy enjoying to say much. The citrus-chipotle mayo on the sandwiches was a delight. We did talk about a new TV show we had watched. “Boss” Starring Kelsey Grammer on STARZ. Kelsey’s had a bit of a struggle finding a new show since his ‘Cheers’ and ‘Fraisier’ days, but this vehicle, a drama, sets him as a ruthless, corrupt, and quite beloved and feared Chicago mayor. We hadn’t had much hope for it, since his last few sitcom efforts were awful, but the new show was edgy, rough, in-your-face, and his character, though typically intellectual was not at all worried about getting his hands dirty, really, really dirty.

Chicken Po' Boy

Sure enough I was full after finishing only half my sandwich and fries. Angel leaned back and moaned, Adam, though pretty much finished, said little.

Summary:

I asked them for their opinions:

Angel: “Yummy!”

Adam: “My foot’s asleep.”  Then he added: “Don’t write that down, seriously, do not . . .  I can’t believe you wrote that down.”

“Anything to add to your assessment?” I asked.

“No complaints.”

“So even though your foot’s asleep you have no complaints?”

He glared at me.

“I just report the facts, you don’t want me to quote something silly, then simply don’t say anything silly.” I added.

Seriously though, the meal was great. The price was acceptable, but the appetizers were, in my mind, a bit steep. The total came in at $55 and change, around the same as a sports-bar chain, maybe a little less. The food is very good, it always is. The place is well staffed and friendly. I too have no real complaints. HIGHLY recommended.

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*Remoulade: A mayonnaise-based sauce or spread, originally French, often similar to tartar sauce.  Styles vary, I asked and was told that Taytro’s was made with red onions, peppers and maybe a dash of horseradish.