Popeye's Louisiana Kitchen

4103 First Missouri Credit Union Dr
St. Louis, MO

Web site


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

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

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

Shrimp on the left, breading on the right.

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

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

Battle: Fish Sandwich! Hardee's vs Arby's , etc.

Main Street Cafe
902 N. Truman Blvd
Crystal City, Mo.

Well, several things happened this week related to the search for a decent fish sandwich. First and most important, Angel has seceded from the quest; "I want something decent to eat this weekend." was her declaration of rebellion.
As if that would stop me. Her loss. So this weekend I took her out to a place of her choice. (but only after she tried another fish sandwich, more on that later.)
One of my Facebook and IRL friends Anne and her husband Clarkson have been after me for years to try Main Street Cafe in Crystal City. I just never got around to it. Clarkson's last prod, in a comment to my Eat and Critique Update post about this majestic journey was something like "You need to try the Fish Sandwiches at Main Street Cafe. Anne sez they are pretty good." I was shocked, truly, truly stunned. Clarkson is a very, very smart guy, he's married to a writer and they are Methodists, surely he knows how to correctly spell the word 'says'.
That egregious error aside, he was right, I really did need to try a fish sandwich at some greasy fried chicken and breakfast place where all the high-haired waitresses smack gum and call you 'Hon'.
No seriously, he reminded me that I'd been promising to check this place out for a long time, It was the perfect thing to do. Especially if I was going to be alone.
So Saturday morning came and I'd lined up a series of Festus/Crystal City chores like Lowes, and Books Galore, a great, dare I say phenomenal, used book store. I can always find a stack of books there. I read a lot, I am constantly need of a fix.
So lunch it was. I'd still take Angel for her palate cleansing steak later in the evening at Bistro on The Square in Desoto.
The Place:
I pulled in promptly at 11. I opened the door to see a place that was literally (I don't actually mean that) twice the size on the inside as it was on the outside. It was also packed. I spotted only a couple of empty tables and one of those looked only recently vacated.
The hostess greeted me and asked if I was lonely. . . or something like that. I had fallen distractedly in love with her accent in just the few words she'd said.
I easily fall in love with certain accents. To hear familiar words with a foreign lilt and meter  is like music to me. Well, actually music doesn't do much for me, but it's like what I hear music is for most people.
She said little else, she didn't need to, I was a slave to her bidding, and she showed me to an empty four top that I immediately felt guilty for accepting since I was dining lonely. She left me there after asking me what drink she could slather all over me. . . or something. I answered "Unsweet tea." That seemed to please her but she actually punished me by saying no more.
I couldn't quite decipher the source of the accent. It sounded a little Eastern European, but not, It wasn't Italian or Spanish, I couldn't quite figure it out. She appeared to have some Mediterranean features, coal black hair, angular face. . but no, I couldn't really tell from that either.
Soon, another, older lady brought my tea and asked for my order, in that same haunting, enchanting accent.
I asked her about it after I'd ordered my food.
"Turkish." was the surprise answer. "I love it!" I stupidly replied.
This made her smile and she thanked me in that delightful accent.
I'd go back to this place, even if they poisoned me or worse, fed me broccoli, just to hear these ladies talk again.
The Food:
Okay, so I ordered my fish sandwich, noticing that Main Street's (Which curiously is not on Main

Street*) version cost only a little more than the crap-wiches we'd had at those fast food places.
I'd been told in the past, mostly by Clarkson, that they have great breakfasts there. Looking around that must have been true, more than half the people dining were still breakfasting, at 11 in the morning.
Before long, the older of the two ladies brought out my plate. I broke a tip off the fish, yeah, steaming, singeing hot on the inside, best to wait a few minutes. Breaded and fried fish is like that.
I poured a puddle of ketchup alongside the golden fries. Angel always squirts lines of the red sauce directly and unevenly on top of them. This is one of our irreconcilable differences that will certainly come to a head in the future, forever fracturing the family unit.
The fries were very good. Crispy and left in the fryer for a moment or two longer than most places would. It also insures that they are all cooked through.

The fillet was huge, it looked to be a full side of fish. It extended beyond the ends of the standard hoagie roll. The fit was good otherwise though. I pinched off another bit and decided it was starting to cool off enough as to not be dangerous anymore. I went ahead and cut the massive sandwich. This made two sandwiches each roughly the size as the full sandwiches we'd tried to date. I wasn't going to finish both, not with that massive pile of luscious fries laying there begging me to finish them off. I added the lettuce leaf, which was an option, not standard equipment, when ordered. I had noticed the tartar was quite chunky with relish, perhaps house made. There was plenty of it as well, served on the side in a sealed condiment container. My first bite into the sandwich (half) as a whole was very nice. I could taste a bit of corn meal in the batter, the fish itself was flaky, hot and very tender. It had flavor. Not as mighty as my beloved catfish, but quite satisfactory. Angel would be jealous, if she actually cared at all about accomplishing glorious feats.
Summary:
The place did not empty out while I was there, in fact, a small waiting line formed at the entry. One party even sent in a scout. I watched the middle aged man come in tentatively and sort of take the measure of the dining area. He finally seemed satisfied and peeked out the front door and gestured as if to give the all clear. The man that eventually came in behind him was older, perhaps the first man's father. I recall him because the elder man reminded me very much of the older gentleman farmers that came to our church when I was a kid. This man had a full head of wavy silver hair and a matching full beard. Not a timid goatee, I'm talking full ZZ Top. He wore a tidy button down shirt, tucked neatly into his jeans which were held on this thin rail of a man by a leather belt, pulled up roughly to nipple level. I'm going to do exactly that once I'm old(er).
The crowd was eclectic, there were families, groups, couples and singles. Young, old, etc. The one thing they had in common was they all knew where to get a decent meal in this village.
I'm really sorry I haven't tried Main Street Cafe sooner. I would have gone more often, perhaps I will now. The food I had and the food I saw being served all seemed top notch. The staff was large, sufficient, attentive and productive. My Turkish ladies seemed professional, yet friendly and approachable.
As I said earlier, I only ate half of the sandwich and less than half of the fries. The portions were enormous. I can't eat an entire American diner style meal, there's just too much food for this minuscule nugget of a man. Frankly though, too much food is about the best kind of problem to have.
When I got home Angel was in her comfy chair, eating, believe it or not, some of the frozen fish sticks from that box I took the picture of a few weeks ago. I showed her the half sandwich and fries in the take-out box. She took it, she ate it. . . all. Every bit of the fish sandwich that she'd said she wanted no more of. Yes, she liked it.


* It used to be on Main Street, but that location burned down a few years back.




Culver's
123 Richardson Crossing
Arnold, Mo.
On the web

When I first posted 'Battle; Fish Sandwich! I received a comment on a Social Media posting that said

she preferred the fish sandwich at Culver's.
Culver's is a Wisconsin based chain of burger and frozen custard restaurants. There's a few of them scattered around St. Louis, a couple in Springfield, Mo, thirteen in Kentucky and none in Maryland.
We reviewed Culver's (Fenton) a few years back and thought pretty good of the experience.
This time though it was for Battle: Fish Sandwich!
     If you didn't catch the original Battle Post, you can find it below in its entirety.
The Place:
I don't like navigating Arnold, the roads there simply make no sense. We were meeting Adam at the store. Adam works nights at a large discount super-store in Arnold. He moved into his own apartment just north of there a couple of months ago. He wouldn't be having the fish, he doesn't like seafood, or most food for that matter.
Culver's colors are bright blue and white, a very clean looking combination.The inside sparkles with these colors. The young men behind the counter were wearing aprons and neckties. Culvers' likes to exude that wholesome, productive and clean living atmosphere.
The place was buzzing with people, more than one might expect for an early Sunday evening.
Angel ordered our fish baskets at the counter, Adam asked for a bacon butter burger. (Wisconsin, remember? All things dairy.
I found a booth that had just been cleaned up by a busy young lady.
We had our drinks, tea, sweet tea and some form of soda pop. I was quite impressed by the tea. For a 'fast food' type place it was quite fresh and dark.
The Food:

The baskets were brought out by another lady, we had a number, she found us without any trouble. I then recalled the crinkle fries.
Crinkle is a tough style of fry to get right. They are thick and this makes the deep fryer a risky option. It's very easy to cook them too high and not long enough. They come out starchy that way. But when they are done correctly, the taste/texture combination is delightful.
The first thing I noticed about the sandwich nearly sent me into a spontaneous standing ovation. The bun was roughly the same size and shape as the fish.
I opened it up for a quick examination. Shredded lettuce, shredded cheddar cheese (Wisconsin), tartar sauce as paste, and a light fried batter coating on a thick piece of cod. To the eye and to the things we've observed about various fish sandwiches, all good so far.
Angel yelped at her first bite, too hot. I held off and enjoyed the perfectly cooked crinkle fries for a few moments. It was still really hot when I did bite into it.
I had trouble forming an opinion. It was all right, the buttered bun the lettuce, the fish coating. . . about three or four bites in though, Angel stated her her mind:"Flaky and boring."
She was right, at least about the flaky part. Fish should flake off, this fillet was perfectly cooked. She was also disappointingly correct, there was virtually no flavor to the fish itself.
I tried and tried, but I could not get excited or happy about this beautiful thing. "There's not even enough salt on the fish." Angel added. Even the tartar sauce was nearly tasteless. The batter didn't even have much flavor. Not bad, the fish or the tartar sauce, but not really good either. It was like a boring movie following a fantastic theme song.
When Adam asked Angel to rate it  against the others, she shocked me. "It's better than Arby's."
Gulp! (Spoiler alert: Arby's was the worst of the previously reviewed sandwiches.)
She added that she still preferred McDonalds'.
Arrggh! This is going to be a lot tougher than I thought.
Summary:
I can't agree that McDonalds is better than Culver's at making a fish sandwich. Well, I could, but I won't. The hardest thing to swallow about Culver's offering is that it cost 30% more than the other places. The extra $$$ bought us nothing really, at all.




The Beginning:
That's right, two fast food joints. The very sort of establishment that I've repeatedly said I was going to stop going to. But this was special, it was also Angel's idea.
We've both been seeing signs and ads from these two places in particular about 'new' fish sandwiches. I used to like Burger King's version until a few years ago when they changed something. I don't recall what exactly, but I didn't like it. I don't like McDonald's fish, because. . . McDonalds. Well, that and they put a slice of cheese on theirs. Any novice gourmand will tell you, fish and cheese do not go together, even if the squished fish patty on the bun is made pretty much the same way particle board is, and the cheese is actually 'pasteurized, prepared cheese product'.
But Hardee's and Arby's are about a third of a notch better, all around, than McDonalds.

The Place: Hardee's, Hillsboro, Mo.
I don't have to be more specific about the location. Drive into Hillsboro, it's on the corner. I shouldn't have to describe it either, if you don't know what a Hardee's (or Carl's Junior in the south and southwest) looks like, then you are simply not doing America correctly.
The Hillsboro franchise is pretty much a local institution. As it is near the courthouse, which is pretty much the only industry in town, which means at any time of day you could come across lawyers, politicians, bureaucrats, realtors, deputies, bail bondsmen, jurors and folks preparing for trial.
It's very visible location also makes it a great place to meet someone from out of town or an exchange place, be it kids, or dogs.
Angel does that quite often, she'll meet people driving up from the shelter she works with and trades out foster dogs, or picks up dogs to be delivered further up the road. Hardee's doesn't seem to mind all this other stuff going on in their more than ample and easily accessible parking lot.
We don't go to Hardee's much any more. Not since we started eating better food anyhow. They have good coffee and free Wifi though.
The Food.
Fish sandwich combo, regular fries and drink. We both opted for tea. Angel ordered and paid, I filled

up three ketchup tubs. There was no one else in the place (this didn't change either) so we had our choice of seats. Angel picked one near the back, apparently arbitrarily.
Shortly, a young lady brought out our order of fish tacos and tortilla chips.
Yeah, the only customers, eating the same thing, and they misfired.
The lady was very apologetic even though we weren't really that bothered about the mistake. When we ordered, there was a clinger, a middle aged man just chatting up the lady at the register, going on and on about fish tacos. . .  easy enough to make a mistake.
Shortly the lady returned with our sandwiches and a fresh new batch of apologies.
We assured her that no one was killed or maimed because of her much less than egregious error, so it was no big deal. It really wasn't.

I looked down at my basket, then up to the poster in the window, then back again. "One of these things is not like the other."  I mean, look at that poster. A thick golden patty with dark green lettuce peeking out and thick, oozy tartar sauce slathered on.
The one in front of me looked tiny, pale and flaccid to me. (no jokes please)  The bun was much thinner than the one on the poster, it was already deflating under its own lack of heft. The lettuce was pale, nearly transparent and tasted exactly like the paper wrapper provided. It also was the stupidest component of the sandwich. It added no taste, not very much nutrition at all, and a very meek texture as well. Worse, it acted as a built-in Slip 'N Slide* for the fish. I eventually had to yank the puny, limp greenery out of the sandwich just to be able to finish the meal. The tartar sauce was also puny. I barely noticed it was

Actual  Hardee's print ad.
Notice a difference?

there at all. It sure wasn't chunky like the stuff on the poster. The sandwich, even without the lettuce, was designed by a committee, as the saying goes. The bun was round, the filet was sharply triangular. The fish stuck out a lot on both ends and there was quite a bit of bun with nothing between it. The bun itself was fragile, it nearly disintegrated just trying to do its one job. I don't like big thick, heavy buns, but I do prefer something adequate for the job at hand. The fish itself was pretty good, not great, and the breading, advertised as 'beer batter' had no real taste at all, especially of beer. The fries were decent, dirty-style (un-peeled) which I like. Too much salt though. Most fast food places salt their fries way too much. After all there's a shaker on every table if someone wants more.
Angel's assessment: "Not my favorite fish sandwich." And "It's the wrong shape."


The Place:
Arby's
690 S. Truman Blvd.
Festus, Mo.

We were going to go to both places in one weekend. However, that Sunday happened to fall on Easter, which is apparently a holiday. We had to wait a week.
It's at the intersection of Truman and Veterans boulevards. Head to Walmart, you'll see it.
   This Arby's won a past contest, the roast beef sandwich comparison with Lion's Choice. This was a very unpopular victory, at least as seen in the comments, the family friendly ones that I allowed to be posted anyhow. That contest has been, by far, my most popular blog entry to date. Lion's choice is a regional favorite, Arby's is an international fast food giant. Sorry locals, Arby's simply won that battle.
How about this time?  The level of difficulty is the same as for Hardee's. Fish sandwiches are not their flagship. It's even kind of difficult to find it on the menu boards. At Arby's we even had to ask if they had it.
We ordered the same thing, regular combos, medium fries and drink. One difference, Arby's has seasoned curly fries.
Inside, the interior looked less like a Burger King or McD's and more like a Panera. Not so plastic and rigid in layout. Really kind of nice. High ceilings, wooden chairs, textured ceramic tile, with plenty of room between the tables. We placed our order and picked one near the back.
As with Hardee's the previous Saturday, we were the only customers when we went in. The staff stayed busy though sweeping the dining area, etc. One young man behind the counter had set up a small step ladder and was pouring goop into the ice cream machine.
The Food:
It didn't take long, they called Angel's name and she fetched the tray. The curly fries looked very tempting. I like seasoned curly fries pretty well, except for the ones that got all tangled together and came out of the fryer as a wad more than a curl.
The sandwiches were wrapped in paper, which we quickly disposed of.
Immediately noticeable was the higher quality bun. Sesame seeded, a little larger and thicker than the generic/bargain bun at Hardee's However, the 'fillet' looked identical, that odd narrow, isosceles triangle shape. Which of course meant it did not fit well on the round bun either. It was prettier though. I popped the top to see what was there. Tartar sauce, check. Lettuce, shredded. Hmm, that's a better way to do it, I thought inside my head. The Hardee's Slip 'N Slide lettuce method was a complete fail.

This lettuce was sort of bound together with the Tartar, and pasted to the bun. There wasn't a lot of lettuce, but they had a winning technique. There was no slippage with this sandwich.
But the accolades stop there. I decided that my first bite would be the tiny exposed point of the triangle, just fish.
A breaded, fried flip-flop. 'Rubbery' was the exact word that popped quietly into my head. Well, this was the tiny end, it always cooks faster, the whispering other voice in my head said to me. Not the shrieking one, I don't really pay much attention to that one, this was the slow, calm Canadian accented voice that I listen too most often.
So I took a bite of the fat end. No better. The word 'flaky did not enter my brain as it should when eating fish. Dry, rubbery, no good. A nicer bun, a prettier sandwich, better lettuce technique just don't matter if the fish is wrong, wrong, wrong.
I waited for Angel's assessment. I tried to read her face as she ate but she hates it when I stare at her when she's eating. . . or sleeping. . . or watching TV. . . okay, she always hates it when I stare at her. I can't read expressions well anyhow, so I waited for words.
"Dry, they've been sitting. It's like they cooked them yesterday then nuked them today."
Her sandwich, like mine, went largely unfinished. "I'm not going to waste calories eating something that just isn't any good. This just means I can have a doughnut with my coffee later."  (I refer to this  as Angel's Law of Compensatory Nutritional Math.**  Her theories on food also include gems like "Anything eaten while drinking wine doesn't count." and  "I need to finish this bag of cookies/cake/candy today else I'll be snacking on it all week.")
The next day we were still going on abut how bad it was. "Angel offered: "I don't think the word flaky could possibly be used when describing it, and 'flaky is exactly the thing fish should be."
Then she said something that stirred the demons in me: "Even McDonalds squished fish patty on a bun is a lot better than Arby's."
I made growling, rumbling noises, spat out a toxic curse or two, contemplated violence against small animals, vegetables and minerals.
"When's the last time you had one from McD's?" she dared ask.
Gauntlet thrown.

Bonus review! No extra charge!
The Place:
McDonald's
Hillsboro Mo.

Yeah, I know, but I had to see for myself. I had to be objective.
I won't describe it much, it's a McD's. Complete with elderly people drinking cheap, but decent coffee, at all times of the day. On this day there was a couple of senior ladies sipping coffee and playing Skip-Bo. Angel ordered two 'number 8's.' Fish sandwich, medium fries, medium drinks.
The Food:
We waited several minutes before a young man brought the tray out and delivered it to a baffled couple of senior ladies playing Skip-Bo. I waved my hand hand and called out something. . . I don't recall what. He handed it over to us.
"Oh goody, it Monopoly time again!" Angel shrieked. We peeled stickers, I won a free burger of some kind. I slid it over to Angel.
The fries were McD's traditional, which I've never been as big a fan of as many people. They tasted freezer burned to me.
The sandwich at least looked like the images in the ads. The bun looked artificial, almost too perfect in brown-ness and shape.  There was also the tell-tale sign of McD's fish sandwich, the American cheese.  To my satisfaction the fish patty was square and roughly the same size as the bun. Points! However, in assembly, my patty was offset a bit and sealed into that position by melted pasteurized processed cheese product.  I opened it up to take stock. yup, fish, cheese and a lot of Tartar-like sauce. No lettuce, not a

problem because I'd noted that lettuce added little to the fish sandwich experience. But that cheese. I can't imagine why they want to put cheese on a fish sandwich. Aside from a clash of tastes, it disrupted my sandwich mechanically.
As for taste, it was nostalgic. It reminded me of every school cafeteria fish sandwich I'd ever had. It was not awful, it was. . . generic.
"I like them because they are not very big." Angel quipped. A valid point. In this age of mile high, nearly-a-pound burgers, a smaller, lighter choice is a very good thing. Sure, it's not an actual fillet, and I'm pretty sure no sea life you've ever heard of was harmed making this thing, but it was closer to my fish sandwich memories than either of the other places.


Summary:
The price at all three places differed by only fifty cents, around twelve dollars. McD's was actually the most pricey. Arby's and Hardee's were using a higher quality seafood, they should be able to beat McD's hands down,  with their eyes closed. But they didn't. Arby's completely ruined it. They should revoke Arby's license to cook fish or fish byproducts completely.
Hardee's offering was at best after-thought-ish. They could bring this thing to the front row of the menu with just a tweak or two,  but they won't ever do it, no one ever listens to me. Meanwhile, McD's squished fish patty of unknown origin on a fake looking bun, served the same as it has been served for decades, actually seemed good in comparison.
"I like it because I know it will always be the same, hot and smothered with Tartar sauce."
Is that important? Consistency over quality? Well, that is actually the apparent McDonalds business model, cheap food, exactly the same wherever you are. Being as they are the biggest, most successful fast food company, I guess they know the customer.
Overall though, I'd like a better fish sandwich. But what would make a better fish sandwich?
I'm glad you asked. You'd be surprised how low my standards actually are.

So what should a fish sandwich be?
Well, let me tell you about the fish sandwich of my younger days. I don't recall having fish very often at all, of any kind, during my childhood. Fish might have meant frozen fish sticks or patties, like they served in the school cafeteria. Later, when my own family was starting to grow, and money and time were both luxuries, I'm certain there were fish sticks. They were relatively inexpensive, easy to prepare, and kids liked them. I recall having them fairly often when Adam was a baby. That is when I

perfected the poor man's fish sandwich. Five fish sticks laid out on a slice of white bread as shown in the photo. It fit perfectly, unlike the awkward, triangular 'filet' vs. round bun situation I described earlier. And yes, I squeezed ketchup on the sticks. Tartar sauce, being something of a single-tasker, just never made it to the already too expensive shopping cart. Sometimes we had a bottle of malt vinegar laying around, that would fancy it up a lot. But mostly it was ketchup, five sticks, two slices of white bread. I haven't had that in a while, but I may real soon. While at Walmart earlier I picked up some fish sticks, for the first time in many, many years. A craving? Nostalgia? No. . . . I wanted to take that picture for this part of the review. Yeah, I'm that serious about my work. That's the extent to which I am willing to go to please you, my loyal fans. Heck, for you folks, I'd even go to McDonalds.
So fans, I simply want a good, reliable fish sandwich. Something just a little better than what was sampled here, or even the five-stick version I once made for myself.
Please, somebody, how hard can it be?





*Slip'N Slide is a trademark of Wham-O Toys, a California company founded in 1948 by two frustrated USC graduates, Richard Knerr and Arthur 'Spuds' Melin. 

** A reference to Alice's Law of Compensatory Cash Flow: "Money not spent on a luxury one considered even briefly is the equivalent of windfall income and should be spent accordingly."  Calvin Trillin, 'Alice, Let's Eat' (1978)




 

 

 
 
 

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....

Imo's Pizza

Before we get started, a little update on last week's post for Cafe Arnold/Local House.
We were searching for/craving fish tacos. The newly sold/bought place didn't have them. Angel is nothing if not tenacious, she still wanted a fish taco.
This Saturday morning I drove to Hardee's to try their new Grilled Cheese Breakfast Sandwich. In the drive through I noticed that they had fish tacos on the menu. I mentioned this to my lovely wife when I got home.
We'd already decided about the evening meal, but she didn't let a little thing like that distract her. So as she was picking up the pizza, she detoured through the drive through at Hardee's and picked up an order of four.
Before we started wolfing down pizza, we each had a Taco. I was pleasantly impressed. For a fast food offering, these tasted rather fresh and dare I say, light. The tortilla was soft and pliable, the lettuce, crisp and the fish, though battered and fried, was not at all greasy. There was a hint of spicy hotness in the tiny dribble of sauce, but it was only in one bite. There was more tortilla than necessary, so like with pizza crust, I ate out the center and tossed the rest away. We both agreed that these tasted okay, maybe a bit too thickly breaded, and the assembly seemed rushed. Not as good as those we had at the now defunct Cafe Arnold, not as good as Angel remembered the Hardee's previous version, but doable. There will be more.

Imo's Pizza
#1 Jefferson Square
DeSoto, Mo.
Web Site

There is an Imo's in Hillsboro. I knew that. In the eight and a half years we've lived here and the five years we've been reviewing eateries, I've never had a pizza from that place. That was deliberate.
Many years ago, back when we lived in/around Springfield Mo. I was a member of a political third party, ran for state representative twice and served as Chairman of the Greene County Libertarian Party for a year. We were not a large group and certainly not formal or wealthy, so we met at the pizzeria owned by the family of one of our members, an Imo's Pizza.
Usually by the time I got to the meeting someone else had already ordered a pie. I nibbled at it, but not
much. I didn't care for that trading card thin crust. For being so thin, you'd think it would be crunchy, it wasn't, it was kind of tough, like cardboard. I didn't much care for the cheese and sauce combination either. Too sweet. This was my first brush with what I now know to be St. Louis style pizza.
So when Angel suggested this, I was gobsmacked.
"Seriously?"
"They have a thicker crust option."
I thought about that. No, I didn't know they had a thicker crust option. I thought further. What other options were I not aware of? It occurred to me that I'd never actually ordered an Imo's pizza. Someone else always did. Sure, why not, hadn't had pizza in a while.
The Place:
Somewhere in DeSoto, I'm not sure exactly, because I didn't go. They offer dining in, but I like pizza at home, in my recliner, with good tea. I made the tea myself. Angel logged in to the Imo's web site and tapped in an order, one for us, one for Adam. We simply do not like the same toppings. He did go for the thicker crust as well though.
Angel made the drive, she wanted to swing by a farm supply store, dog stuff, and Hardees anyhow, for the aforementioned fish tacos. Sure, I'll make some tea and work on my other blog.
I had my headphones on, listening to Bach's Brandenburg Concertos, because, deep down, I really like that sort of thing, even though I risk sounding snobbish whenever I mention it.
If you aren't from Missouri, you've probably never heard of Imo's but around here they are an institution. St. Louis has had a vibrant Italian population since Columbus first invented America in 1776 and decimated the indigenous population with biological warfare. Or something, I'm not feeling very research-y today. Anyway a lot of Italian families settled in St. Louis and it seems, even today, that every one of those families had/has a restaurant. There are some really, really good Italian joints around. Ed and Margie Imo were living in St. Louis in 1964 and thought it would be really neat if someone would bring a pizza to them rather than trekking out past midnight on Friday nights to get a meat-laden pizza. (A Catholic, no meat on Friday, thing.)
Though pizza made its way to popularity in the U.S. after WWII, nearly all of it was dine in or takeout. Pizza delivery as a regular option didn't start up until around 1961, as best as anyone knows, starting with DomiNick's (Later Domino's) in Michigan. (They originally delivered in a VW Beetle). Okay, I am feeling a little research-y.
So Ed and Margie opened up a place of their own, near their home on 'The Hill' and started delivering pies around the city in 1964. The idea caught on and they started expanding around the Gateway City soon after the iconic Gateway Arch was erected. To date there are ninety locations, mostly in metro St. Louis, with several sprinkled around the Show-Me State including Kansas City and Springfield.
The Food:
Angel had ordered two pies, for us a 'Deluxe' with sausage, mushrooms, onions, green peppers, bacon, and their signature Provel cheese.
Adam's was an 'All-Meat' with sausage, Canadian bacon, pepperoni and bacon.
They also picked up an order of boneless wings with a Ranch dipping sauce. I don't know what the deal s

with Ranch dressing. I've been to a ranch, a real ranch. I don't want anything that might taste like those places smell. What is wrong with you people?
Besides, I don't like wings the way they are made in sports bars and pizzerias. Too spicy.
After we tried the fish tacos, we popped open the boxes. Adam took several 'wings'. Hell, they didn't look a thing like wings. They were bright orange balls. Angel liked them, they agreed they were pretty good. Angel kept trying to push them on me, or maybe she just liked saying "Dennis, wouldn't you love to taste some spicy balls? They're pretty good!" I had all sorts of witty replies prepared but I can't share them here since this is an open minded and family-friendly review.
They agreed that though they were quite good, they weren't worth the $8.95 price. Yeah, that's a picture of nine dollars worth of chicken. Imo's is quite proud of their sticky, spicy balls.

The pizzas did look more 'normal.' Not as thick as Pizza Hut's hand-tossed, but certainly better than the Imo's thin crust. The toppings were spread out and plentiful. The bacon worried me, it was full slices. The pizzas were cut into squares, which leaves tiny orphans on a round pizza. It's a St. Louis thing.
My worries abut the bacon acting as a rip cord pulling off most of the toppings with it, were unfounded. The bacon was sliced so thin that it broke easily with every bite. For that thinness though, the bacon taste didn't really stand out. The sausage was nice and spicy, it balanced out the sweetness of the sauce and cheese.
Adam's was indeed, all meat and lots of it. Big slices of it. It looked pretty good, but I like a little veg on my pizza.
I was happier with the thicker crust, though it seemed to be a little tougher than Pizza Hut's. Later, when I reheated some, just enough to make it warm, the crust toughened up even more. By morning it was worse, even Rudy had some trouble chewing it. Not that I feed pizza crust to dogs, that would be wrong.
We discussed it with open minds, each one of us wanted to say something good about it. Adam said that St. Louis style just wasn't his thing. I was happy that it was better than I had expected. None of us rated it higher than Pizza Hut.
Summary:
Kind of a pricey meal, those precious non-wings set us back nine bucks on their own. The whole bill came to forty six dollars and change. It only barely covered two meals apiece though, the pies weren't that big.
It was okay, not nearly as bad as I'd expected, but unfortunately that's about all I can say. As long as there are other options, I can't come up with a reason to prefer Imo's to anything else.
At least we tried.

Arby's

12693 Lamplighter Square

St. Louis, Mo.

On the Web

Yeah, I know, I said I was going to stop eating at and reviewing fast food chains. But there's a story here, granted not much of one, but if I didn't report on this meal there wouldn't be anything this week, because . . . work.

I had to go in to work Saturday afternoon for what was predicted to be an all-nighter and extended to a seventeen hour shift. I try to get ahead of these events when I can, so my Saturday morning would involve sleeping as late as possible, running out to take care of a couple of chores, try to sneak in a nap, then head to work. Sure there's something a little odd about setting an alarm for 3:00 P.M. but that's just the way it is. If you want a career in IT support, you just better be prepared for occasional to frequent weekends, holidays and all-nighters.

All went to plan, I slept until I just couldn't anymore, about 8:30, had some breakfast, checked my social media and email, lounged around for a bit, showered and headed to the Post Office, etc. When I got home I hung around for a bit then went in for my nap. I was up by 2:30.

It was then I realized something was not on my checklist. Work would start at 4:30. The heaviest lifting would be the first few hours. Better get something to eat.

Well, I was headed into the burbs anyhow, I had time to stop somewhere and get something.

I wasn't really hungry for anything specific. I didn't have time for a full, sit down affair, so I just replayed my route in my head and thought about what was on the way.

Heading in, at the first suburb, there are some traffic lights. One, if not all the others, is usually red when I get to it. I recalled the outdoor blinking LED sign, 'Two Fish Sandwiches, $5.' it has been flashing that for several weeks or months now.

I like fish sandwiches. I didn't need two, but I was pretty sure I'd never had a fish sandwich from Arby's before.

The Place:

It's a fast food franchise, they all pretty much look and smell the same. Plastic, pre-fab, nothing original, everything 'safe'. There was hardly anyone else in the joint at 3:30 P.M. on a Saturday. No line, straight to the counter. They took my order, one fish sandwich, curly fries and a medium drink and told me they were a couple of minutes away from having curly fries ready.

So I filled up my cup with tea and a little ice, pumped some ketchup into little paper cups, ripped out a couple of napkins and found a seat where the late afternoon sun wouldn't be on my face or neck. I waited for the order, only a couple of minutes, as promised. It was then I noticed the music. Odd choice, all 70's and 80's top ten. America's 'You can do Magic', Feetwood Mac's 'Everywhere', there was even a little ELO action. (look it up for yourself youngsters). This is the music that was the background noise for my coming of age, teen's through twenties. The problem with that is, and the youngsters won't know this, is that there weren't a lot of music options back then, before cable TV and the interwebs. You pretty much discovered a new song or group over the radio. Most towns had at least one radio station that played popular music at least occasionally, and when they did it was usually Top Ten. At night when the local stations went quiet, the big city flame throwers, like WLS in Chicago, jacked up the voltage and blasted doped up DJ's for hundreds of miles into the wilderness.

Of course, they too played pretty much the same top ten. If you were lucky enough to live in a big city or had a progressive university station nearby, you could sometimes hear more obscure stuff, but otherwise it was the same few songs, day after day.

So by the end of my coming of age period, I was already sick of all these songs.

Being as I was pretty much the only customer, there was no din to help mask the sound. At least it wasn't country. I don't know, maybe this is considered elevator music these days. At least they didn't whip out 'Afternoon Delight' (Starland Vocal Band) or 'Honey' (Bobby Goldsboro). There's a couple of ear worms for you.

The Food:

I like a good fish sandwich. I used to prefer those at Burger King, but they changed the formula a couple of
years back and I haven't had one since. I don't care for the crap at McDonald's at all. If you ever see my car parked at or queued up in the drive through at a McDonald's, go ahead and call the cops. It's either stolen or I've been abducted am am probably in the trunk..

So why not give Arby's a try?

A few years back we ran a comparison review between Arby's and a local chain 'Lion's Choice'.  It is to date, our most read and most controversial review, ever. Mostly because it infuriated the locals that we preferred the national chain over the local favorite for objective and well reasoned criteria. Still, local pride got vicious.

The curly fries were a last minute, impulse decision. They offer waffle fries too, but I recalled that the consistency of done-ness of waffle fries at fast food places is sometimes a bit iffy.

The fish looked good, golden brown and crispy. I hoped they didn't try to season it too much.

The curly fries looked well cooked, also a dark, golden brown. There were a few all tangled up and stuck together, one of the things I don't like about curly fries. That and the fact that they sometimes don't dip-fit into those tiny ketchup cups, make them, for me, more trouble than they are worth. They tasted pretty good though, not too salty.

The fish sammich was on a toasted sesame seed bun, topped with tartar sauce and a pointless, limp leaf of iceberg lettuce. At least they don't put cheese on it like McD's. 

I grew up loving fish sandwiches made at home, with fish sticks (five sticks, four side by side, the fifth one laid perpendicular along the tips of the first four), white bread and ketchup. Mmmmm. . . yummy.  Nobody seems to make them that way anymore. I like tartar sauce better than ketchup on fish, but back in the day it was simply not something we kept on hand at home. Nowadays, I can make a reasonable tartar sauce substitute  with mayo and sweet relish, things we do have on hand for some reason. My arrangement of five fish sticks fit the white bread perfectly, side to side, end to end. This big filet was more triangular in shape so the sides didn't reach the edge and the ends stuck out a little. I bit off some of the exposed fish first. Not bad. 

The breading was a little heavier than it needed to be. The fish was fresh, moist and flaky, the breading crisp, about all you can ask for. The curly fries tasted okay as well, despite having to pause and untangle or break apart a few of them.

The tea was about what I come to expect at most chains, a bit old and unremarkable.

Summary:

As far as fast food fish sandwiches go, it was pretty good. One national review site lists the Arby's offering as the best among its competitors. I tend to agree. It wasn't great, but certainly noticeably better than any other franchise fish sandwich I've had recently.

The service was fine, I liked the fact that they told me at purchase time that the fries would be a little while, that's a nice touch. The place was respectably clean, no litter or noticeable crumbs on or around the many empty tables. At least once during my short visit one of the crew was out on the floor with a broom. The crew didn't make a lot of noise as young crews tend to do at some fast food places. They did hoot it up a little when one of the young counter lady's husband (assumption) stopped in with their two young kids. She got to take a break and hug them for a few minutes. Sometimes I wish I had young kids stop into the workplace to grab some midday hugs.

I don't go to fast food places much anymore since they all tend to make me a bit queasy afterward. This was no exception. My tummy noisily complained most of the evening in the quiet office. So much so that I felt it necessary to tell the other two guys about it, apologetically. 

A quick meal for six bucks is pretty decent. Sure it sours the stomach later, but it certainly was filling. Around seven, the other guys said they were making up an order for some takeout, I declined. I was seriously not hungry, even though, uncharacteristically, someone else was picking up the tab. I ate nothing the rest of the night.

If I ever do yearn for a franchise fish sandwich, Arby's will be the top choice, though that only happens about once or twice a year, tops.

My only other complaint about this Arby's, or all of them, I don't know which, did not have Wifi. . . I thought all the chains had Wifi. Most of the time I do go to one of these places I'll order a coffee and maybe an apple pie, just to be able to do some downloads. 

So, not bad, better than others, but the whole fast food bar is pretty low.

Bistro at the Square

48 Jefferson Square Plaza
DeSoto, Mo.

Today's lesson kids, is about mistakes. Not big ones like invading a country based on bad intelligence, or leaving a loaded gun unsecured when the grandkids drop by, or forgetting an anniversary. No we're going to talk about the more costly ones, the compounded little ones, the completely avoidable ones. The kind of mistakes that are so small, that they are only really of concern if they are repeated or piled up among other small mistakes.
Like forgetting to take extra batteries for your camera. Rookie mistake. I've done it before, I did it this time, again. Thus we have one picture and only one picture and it is of the appetizer.
Sorry. I am a professional, I should really know better.
Then there are other professionals that with a little more attention to the simple things could easily turn a pretty bad review into one more deserving of the place being reviewed. Case in point:

The Place:
Inside the main building on Jefferson Square. It's not obvious, the signage is modest. Jefferson Square may have once been a mini mall, it now contains a couple of offices, the restaurant and the Jefferson Inn. The Bistro includes a bar area, an atrium that fills out a corner of the open main floor, and a large banquet room.
We always sit in the atrium, non-smoking. A summer squall was building over Hillsboro as we headed south. It rained on us in spurts, we went into the Bistro ahead of whatever was building. The bulk of the storm stayed north. DeSoto was sunny, but being on the edge of the squall, we watched the sunshine-backlit rain from our seats in the atrium for the entire meal.
There was only one other table filled in the atrium, a middle aged potato-shaped couple. The female seemed bitter about almost everything. We were seated by a well dressed and clean cut young man. He barely  mumbled and rarely in complete sentences. He handed us the menus and asked about drinks. Tea, tea and Pepsi/Coke.
Angel and Adam decided to get the requisite appetizer, the locally ubiquitous fried ravioli. I'd skip it and save room for the meal.
The tables were all nicely arranged, white linen tablecloths with hunter green place mats and paper tape around the silverware. Each table had a small vase with a tasteful arrangement of fake flowers. Music emanated from a boom box by the Bistro's entrance, I couldn't quite make it out, the lyrics seemed Italian, but the accompaniment was more mariachi. It could have been Mexican ballads, or bad Italian music. At one point it sounded Hawaiian, though Hawaian as being by four guys in sombreros playing giant guitars.
The Food:
Most things on the menu looked pretty good, pasta, steak, fish, salads and soups. Though called a bistro, the fare was not uniquely Italian, not even close. But it all looked pretty good. It also looked large. I think I've mentioned this before, my appetite ain't what it used to be.
Angel decided almost immediately, Adam shortly afterward. I sent the waiter away twice before deciding. Like I said, it all looked pretty good. I just wanted to get the most satisfying bang for the buck for my one weekly 'go-for-it' meal. It's like a kid with five bucks trying to decide which of the twenty things he wants that each cost five bucks, would be the most fulfilling.
I finally decided and  ordered the pork chops. The only reason I had hesitated had been because there were two chops in the order. I knew I wouldn't be able to eat both. So I thought ahead to scrambled eggs and chopped pork chop for Sunday breakfast. That sounded pretty good. I asked for the baked potato and corn on the side.
Angel had fallen for the catfish special, two big filets, along with fries, slaw and baked beans. Adam surprised no one on the planet by asking for the Buffalo chicken sandwich.
We ordered, the ravioli arrived shortly, I took the first and last picture of the evening.  The ravioli looked extra crispy to me, not the good kind of extra crispy like KFC serves, rather as in over-fried-crispy. Angel confirmed this suspicion after having a couple.
When I'd ordered my meal, 'Sparkles', as I internally named him with a huge measure of irony, asked me if I'd like butter and sour cream with the baked potato. My first inclination was to ask him if anyone ever said no to that, but I let it go. I know better than to mock the staff before the food arrives. This is important for later.
The ravioli disappeared except for the crispiest bits. I watched the rain outside as Angel and Adam played some form of shape arranging game on her cellular telephone.Another phone rang loudly, full volume, the annoying default tune.
The sour, potato shaped lady took the call on the third or fourth verse of the hideous tune. It was her mom. Yes they were at the restaurant out of the storm and she didn't know why they brought her a baked potatos and that tomato crap when she didn't order it. She'd clearly told them when they wouldn't allow substitutes to just skip that other crap. But no, they brought it to her anyhow. Oh the humanity!
Fortunately it wasn't a long conversation, just an angry and loud one. I jotted down the parts I'd heard thinking how rude it was  to complain about a restaurant publicly like that. Then I noticed the irony of my indignation, as I wrote down more notes to build a public, on-line and potentially scathing review.
'Potentially scathing' because I was already getting frustrated with Sparkles. He'd stopped by a couple of times, first to ask if we wanted saucers for our appetizers instead of dripping marinara all over our laps, and again when he came by to clear the plates and ask about refills, he called me 'Bud', twice.
I was raised in the south and then immediately spent the next nine years in the military. Ma'am and sir rolls off my tongue as easily as saliva. I wasn't sure why 'Bud' bothered me, but it did. I expect to hear it in a locker room among long-time pals whilst snapping towels at each others glistening sweaty bodies. . . Sorry about that unfortunate imagery, but it seemed a little too familiar and casual for a nice place with white linen table cloths. Also the mumbled and exasperated questions, still not phrased in complete sentences. 'Take these plates away Bud?", "Refill on that tea Bud?".
When the meals did arrive, they looked pretty good. Two large, thick chops, a foil wrapped, medium sized potato and a wilting kale leaf. To the side a small bowl of fading, soggy looking corn, not near as bright and perky as what you see on a can of Nibblets.
I tried the corn as he placed Angel and Adam's meals. Yeah, as I'd suspected, this corn was long past prime. I scooted it aside. "Bring your roll in a sec, Bud, need anything?"
"Butter and sour cream?"
"Oh yeah, k."
He fetched the missing items quickly enough. I squeezed the roll, it was cold. Not just not warm, it felt refrigerated. The butter packets were about the same temperature. This is fine for butter, but it meant that the roll would not even begin to melt it. I passed on it. I'd spend my 'allowance' on the potato, which seemed perfectly hot and well cooked.
The chops were thick and thoroughly cooked. They were slathered with a brown sauce, which I tasted and decided was simple woostershire. . .worchestershire. . .westchestershore. . . you know what I mean. It wasn't bad, but hardly interesting. The Bistro's saucier must have had the day off.
I shredded the potato, folding in the butter (margarine) and sour cream. It was a decent size, which meant too big to finish so I ate mostly the tasty skin and a little of the meaty parts. I love baked potato skin.
Angel lopped off a  corner of her fish and slipped it onto my plate. It was nice and flaky, perfectly cooked but the breading seemed a bit salty. She liked it okay.
Adam wouldn't give an appraisal of his sandwich, only much later did he give it his two-thumbs-sideways: "It was okay."
Summary:
At forty three bucks the Bistro is appropriately priced for a nice restaurant in DeSoto. Add to that the incredibly small tip I tacked on, it was quite affordable. The food was pretty good for the most part, but not great. As with the service, a few little things could have made a big difference. Warm rolls, fresher veggies, a more interesting sauce, little things.
The service was bad. Not just my words, Angel agreed. Earlier we had been discussing Adam's upcoming job interview and I had made a point that he should put on his 'customer face'.  We are introverts and not just a little bit. It is actually a struggle, an aerobic exercise to look into another person's eyes and cheerfully engage them. Seriously, it's hard.
I told Adam that I had developed a 'customer face' when dealing with my customers, those for whom I provide service. I told him that it is not always easy to do, in fact sometimes it's very hard, but it is absolutely mandatory to be successful in any form of service industry. You have to set aside the lousy day, the foul mood, even completely justified ambivalence or apathy, just set them aside. Be polite and respectful always, even if it's just an act. Reign in the sarcasm and snarky comments. All that dour wit will not be appreciated by near strangers that just want you to do your job.
Sparkles can fix this. He needs to put on his customer face when serving the public. Even if it hurts. Cheer up, be respectful, speak up, articulate in complete sentences. Most of all he needs to keep his mind on the task at hand. This is vital. Serving diners is a skill, it's much more than just showing up and pushing plates on a table. A few minutes a day, just put on your customer face, buck up and do the job like there are a hundred people lined up to take it from you.
 We don't expect much, we don't need astute advice about wines or silver capped serving dishes, just the basics. Fast food places mostly get this part right. I can prove it, just step into a Waffle House sometime, anytime. You are greeted and seated with cheerful politeness and respect, it's almost as if they are happy that you picked their humble establishment to have a meal. Even McDonalds and Burger King usually emphasize respect and cordiality from their minimum-wage staff. That's all we ask, just simple courtesy.
This dining experience was not awful, but it was certainly below our expectations. But it was all simple, easily fixable stuff.