Zoup!

810 North New Ballas Court
Creve Coeur, MO.

On the web.

Yeah, 'Zoup!'. Sounds like. . . and that's what it is. If I had to compare it to  a place you've heard of, I'd say it has a menu similar to Panera/St. Louis Bread Company, with not as much bread.
Yes, you can get a bread  bowl for your zoup!, if that is what you are into. I didn't since it sounded like a soup sandwich and my head spun from the mental image of that.
I don't usually go to lunch with the folks at work, I've mentioned that before. My weekday lunch regimen is a bit non-conventional. Fruits and nuts. That's all, fruits and nuts and not really a lot of that.
I eat just enough in the morning to sustain me through lunchtime. Then the fruit and nuts not only kick me into a higher gear, they fill me up. This odd diet allows me to easily avoid whatever temptations might be available, cakes, bagels, leftover pizza, a vending machine full of salty and sweet snacks.
Thursday morning though, the lite breakfast wasn't doing its normal job. By ten my tummy was growling, I was actually looking forward to the chimpanzee meal around noon.
One of my co-workers, one whose name I will not reveal (OWNIWNR) stopped by my desk-kingdom and asked if I'd like to try a new place he'd found. "A little soup and sandwich place I see on my way to work." He'd never been there, neither had another co-worker, who I'll refer to, once again, as 'Tim'.
I heard my tummy gurgle again and surprised myself a little by saying "Sure."
We rode over in OWNIWNR's relatively new car, outfitted with more on-board computers and displays than could be found at NASA during the Apollo program.
I worried a little about what I might order, but decided the worst case scenario would only mean one minor, reversible, backslide for the week.
The drive to Zoup! was not long, seven or eight minutes. During the run I distracted OWNIWNR by mentioning the Cleveland Indians heading to the World Series. He likes sports, he claims his family bleeds Cardinals Red. Indeed he once showed me a paving brick at Busch Stadium with his name on it. At the time I offered to take him to the downtown bus station where, for reasons I cannot at all explain, he could see my name and phone number on a wall. (no one ever seems to call though).
I'd heard about the Indians earlier on my drive in to work. It was about the only sports news presented on NPR, between the sad and increasingly pathetic fund raising pleas on this the last day of the autumn drive.
I remembered it because I'd not heard anything about the Cleveland Indians since the movie 'Major League' came out on DVD. In fact, all I really know about that team is from that movie. "Is Charlie Sheen still pitching?" I asked him.
The Place:
Zoup! is on one side of a busy shopping center. Which one, I don't recall. I don't really explore much
around the workplace, the traffic is thick and restless in that area during the day.
We walked in timidly, like the first-timers we were. The serving line was in the back. The front had window counter seating allowing patrons (Zoupers!?) the intoxicating vistas of a shopping center parking lot. Between the window and the line were nice, but fairly standard tables and chairs.
The place seemed clean and well tended.
There was a line, but not an insurmountable one. That's a nice aspect of limited menu places. Since they only offer so many things, the line moves quickly.
We stepped up.
The menu was on the wall behind the line. Wow, lots of zoups! The place boasts a rotating zoup! menu, which means not the same choices everyday. I like that idea. I could see the big vats steaming. There were about three that I figured I could be happy with. A turkey chili, a zoup! called chicken Potpie and a 'Seafood Chowder'
I would have preferred a bit more specificity than 'Seafood'. That could mean a lot of things. I like some, shrimp, scallops, crab, lobster, but don't want anything to do with oysters or clams. (snotfish)
But no worries first-timers, they offer free samples!
Just about everyone in line was asking for a sample or two. It gave me a chance to check out the seafood. Tim was tasting the Potato Cheddar, I'd ask him about it later. This is the same guy that recommended One19 last week so I sort of trust his food judgement a little.

The Food:

The salad selection looked more than adequate, with a Cob, a house and a few other specialty salads. They also had a reasonably good sized sandwich menu, which I ignored. If I have a sandwich, any sandwich, for lunch, I'm bloat-y and snoozing by 2 P.M.
I couldn't hear what OWNIWNR ordered, it turned out to be zoup! and a sandwich.
The zoup! comes in various sizes. 'Side', cup and bowl. After evaluating a sample, I decided that the seafood chowder was the way to go.
Apparently a chunk of bread comes with the zoup! order, I declined. Just the soup and a small drink please.
The serving line was filled with perfectly friendly and helpful people. Even the checkout lady didn't yell at me.
The price knocked me back a step. Ten bucks and change for a bowl of soup and a small drink, period. Not that I can't afford that, but it did seem a bit pricey for a small lunch. Heck, my own version of lunch costs me about seventy five cents per day.
It occurred to me why I was hungrier than usual. During the week, dinner, or supper, is my largest meal of the day. Even that is not really all that big. I usually pile on the whole meal in one of the smaller plates in a set. If you eat the right things you don't need as much. Also, my job doesn't exactly burn off a lot of calories, that's why I have to limit and regulate myself so closely if I want to maintain my girlish, but strikingly handsome figure.
However the evening prior to the gurgling tummy, I'd only had a thin lunch meat sandwich and a tennis ball-sized apple. Nothing else the whole evening.
Hopefully the chowder would do the trick.
We were rung up and handed receipts, mine was #97.
It doesn't take a long time to prepare an order at a soup place, so I had barely enough time to sit down and take a sip of the surprisingly fresh tea when they screamed out my order number.
A tray, a paper bowl and a plastic spoon. Sort of Spartan, but the bowl actually looked to me like way too much.
The sample I'd had didn't seem to contain any of the detestable snotfish I'd feared. Stirring around the semi-thick, creamy and buttery chowder I spied chopped shrimp, crab and fish. If it had snotfish in it, it was ground to a pulp and was undetectable.
It was not so thick that it would hold a spoon upright, but definitely thicker than Campbell's Cream of Celery, which is my go-to soup base at home.
The tastes were fantastic. I could indeed taste the crab and the shrimp. It was not nearly as heavy as some chowders I've had, which was a good thing.
The conversation was sporadic, we'd exhausted my sports knowledge with the bit about the Indians and OWNIWNR knew that Tim and I don't really follow sports. Tim enjoys playing with science fiction action figures and reading and collecting Archie comics, if I remember correctly. He's also teaching his young twin offspring how to play vintage Dungeons and Dragons. Yeah, he's one of those, I think.
So we talked about pension plans, IRA's and limited retirement options. Had the lunch lasted longer we would surely have started swirling into talking about aging issues, diseases and surgeries and the like. It always happens when you hang for long with a few gents of a certain age range.
As a meal, it was very tasty, quite satisfying and held up nicely throughout the afternoon. I did have to take a 2 P.M. anti-snooze walk, but that's not uncommon.
Summary:
A nice little place, convenient to work, quick enough to feed you with a little time to spare to get back to the cubes before managers start yelling. The staff was very pleasant, I saw no service infractions, no back-ups or mishaps. The price was a bit higher than I had assumed, but be advised, not all the zoups! are priced the same. Seafood was about the priciest on the list. OWNIWNR's two-fer, Potpie zoup! and Chicken Toscana  sandwich, ended up costing him over fourteen dollars since he'd up-sized from a 'side' zoup! to a bowl. But it was "Very good" and certainly worth going back for. He added "With a few minor tweaks it would bee a serious contender with Panera." The zoup! was, all around the table, very good. Tim's potato cheddar was according to him, "Awesome." Yeah, he talks like that.
Though higher priced than I'd expected, that would only be a real problem if I ate there frequently. But alas, I'll mostly stick to my own berries, twigs and seeds most of the time.
So if you're looking for a quick, great quality meal and you are in the general area, be sure to give it a shot!

Ruby Tuesday

1120 Shapiro Drive
Festus, Mo.
On the Web

September 2015 marks this prestigious journal's sixth anniversary! Nearly three hundred highly
researched, sane and articulate posts, highlighting and occasionally skewering eateries in our limited universe.
Once again, I feel obligated to regale you, the fans, with the story of the birth of Eat and Critique.
By September, 2009, we'd lived in Jefferson County for a little over three years. We continued a tradition, an appointment of going out to eat on Saturday evenings. It was a way to interrupt our very busy lifestyles and spend some quality 'us' time.
Choosing a place to go was always a chore. Three years in, we'd pretty much settled into a rut of a handful of places. One of those places was Ruby Tuesday.
If we were celebrating something, a new job, a new client,, etc. This is where we would go, since it was the pricier of the rut-places. I usually got the same thing, yeah the rut was that deep. Steak, mashed potatoes and sauteed green beans. This particular meal, everything went wrong. The steak was overcooked, the tea was bitter, the potatoes over salted, the service was lousy, the courses were terribly timed, the check took forever, our waiter disappeared, twice. . .
I was livid. I complained about it for hours, maybe days. I was threatening to write a terse letter to the corporation. Somewhere in all that righteous indignation, I declared that we would absolutely, positively, drag ourselves out of that rut and find new places.
That's is how all of this started. My frustration with a lousy meal at Ruby Tuesday.
So, in honor of that bad meal, we decided to go there on this, our sixth anniversary.

The Place:
It's a Ruby Tuesday, one of the many mid-level chains of 'sports bars' like TGI Friday, Chili's, Outback, etc. Like the one parodied in the movie 'Office Space'. I can't usually tell them apart on the inside. They used to have more sports junk on the walls, but that went away in a small, infrequent, but refreshing display of good taste.
As you step in, you come face to face for the only real reason we ever go there, the salad bar.
We were greeted and seated in an area to the left of the bar, pretty much the same place we always get seated. Katy introduced herself and handed out menus. Not that we really needed menus, traditionally we always get pretty much the same thing.
The Food:
 The main thing at RT is the salad bar. We pick our meals based on how hungry we will be after we have our big salads.
Due to fairly recent conversations, punctuated with a lot of finger wagging, with my doctor, I have drastically altered my lifestyle. I won't bore you with details, but the alterations have worked, all my 'numbers' are back where they should be. Bottom line, I can't eat as much at a single sitting as I used to. That terrible meal I had six years ago has even been paired back. Instead of the salad bar and a full sized steak, potatoes and beans, sometimes followed by dessert, I order the Petite Sirloin and mashed potatoes to supplement the salad. I don't often even finish that.
This is what I went with again. Angel surprised us by going off script and getting the crab cakes. Adam put us back on course, choosing the chicken tenders. He doesn't do the salad bar. No appetizer this day.

Katy took our order and was nearly washed away by the slipstream we left in our rush to the salad bar. We have salads at home frequently, but keeping everything fresh is a problem. We rarely have everything we want at the same time as we want it. This is what makes RT's bar perfect. it has everything and it is all fresh. We don't have to buy heads of lettuce, pounds of mushrooms, etc. just to let them mostly spoil in or chill box.
What did I pick for my salad this time? Well, 'everything' is probably the best way to sum it up. I topped it with two dressings, blue cheese and Italian. I should point out that the photo makes it look massive, but that is not a full sized plate. Besides, this was the main course, the meat and potatoes were just side dishes.
We finished off our salads as well as the complimentary cheesy biscuits. Had we stopped then and
there this would be a completely positive review.
Katy brought the main courses a few minutes after we were finishing the salads, perfect timing. The plates looked rather sparse, nothing on them other than precisely what we ordered.
Right away I wished I had stopped with the salad. The steak was overcooked. I don't send things back, it takes too long. I ate about half of it, but was fortunately already sated by the voluptuous salad. I didn't finish the potatoes either, they were too salty. The steak also seemed too salty, something I was hard pressed to explain. It's a steak, you don't need more than a pinch of anything added to it. To over-salt steak is nothing short of criminal.

When I mentioned this to the family, Angel chimed in. "Well I wasn't going to say anything, but the crab cakes were too salty. I thought it might just be me."
No dear, it wasn't. The chef was heavy handed, we've seen it before. Jilly's has been serving food laden with an oceans' worth of the mineral for several years.
Adam said his meal was "good". That's all. He doesn't talk a lot.
Adam and Angel decided to order some dessert to take home. RT was pushing a Pumpkin Spice Cheesecake. That's what they both went with. To me, pumpkin is an Autumn decoration, not a flavor. I don't eat or drink anything with the word 'pumpkin' in it. Besides, my tolerance for sugar is way down, so I rarely have a full dessert anymore.
Summary:
We were not really disappointed, the salad bar was great and our expectations for the other stuff was not very high. It is a shame that they managed to ruin a perfectly good cut of meat though, again. Katy did a spectacular job, her timing and attentiveness were excellent, no complaints there. Since we lived in Maryland for five years, our expectations for a crab cake anywhere else are considerably lowered. Nobody out here gets them right.
The real sore point with Ruby Tuesday is that we only occasionally get it all right, yet it still costs more than most other places we go, the tab this time was over sixty dollars. That's a lot to pay for a salad and small, incorrectly cooked sides.
Yeah, we'll go back, for the salad, but maybe only the salad.

Crushed Red

Urban Bake and Chop Shop

11635 Olive Blvd.
St. Louis (Creve Coeur), Mo.

On the Web.

So I got invited to a media event at a new location for a St. Louis based, growing family of restaurants.
Stop laughing, I am indeed, by every modern definition, a living, breathing, member of the local food media. . .Seriously, I am.
I get these invitations occasionally, mostly I ignore them. No, I just do not want to drive thirty extra miles to sample some freakish chocolate/bacon/beer concoction. . .
This one caught my eye though, mostly because of time of day and location. 6 P.M. about three miles from work, in the direction I go anyhow. Plus, pizza and salad.
Sure, why not.
I asked Amanda if flash photography was allowed, she responded affirmatively almost immediately.
In kind, I responded with my acceptance.
On the day of the event, she even pinged me again. . .
Amanda works as an Accounts Coordinator for Fishman PR. A public relations firm. She's the one who invited me.
I left work at around 5, found the place pretty quickly and had to find a way to kill about forty minutes. Not so hard, the shopping center hosted a Creve Coeur Camera. I parked between the two and . . oops. . . This location of the camera shop was vacant. Only thirty five minutes to kill.
So I walked around the shopping center, that ate up about five more. Fortunately I stumbled across a Crown Vision Center.
Yeah, Angel's been nagging me to get new glasses. My prescription ran out about a year and a half ago. . Since then, almost daily I am told, I complain about it to Angel. So she nags me about it.
The problem with glasses is that they change your appearance. Unlike underpants, socks or ascots, people will notice your glasses. I don't like being noticed.
I browsed around a bit, tried few frames, but was generally dissatisfied with the choices. It did though, burn up some time.

The Place;

An upscale shopping center on busy Olive Boulevard, near I-270.
The place looked nice. Well laid out, nice floors, walls ceilings, matching furniture, the sure sign of a significant front-end investment.
Another man was asking the available staff person about the 'event'. I joined the discussion, we were shown to the back. I spotted Amanda before she spotted me. She apparently hadn't looked up my Linkedin profile as some people might routinely do when they are about to meet someone for the first time. . . Is that stalky? When we did meet, she checked me off her list and offered to get me something to drink. Sure, water.
There were a few others mingling around, one lady seemed friendly and curious so I sat across from her while scoping out for better options. I'm a guy, it's what we do.
Robin was with I-Heart Media. A company name I recognized from a few local radio stations. I-Heart owns about 850 radio stations. KLOU in St. Louis is one of them. I assured Robin that I would listen sometime, if I could remember how to change the station on the car radio.
Shortly after we sat, a handsome younger man stopped by and introduced himself as Powell Kalish, a name I recognized, but Robin did not.
I had done some advance research. This was one of the founders/owners. Powell, his late father, Ralph and Chris LaRocca, a man with many, many successful restaurant ventures under his belt, started the business and concept a few years back.
Robin was a true people person though, quite a bit more charming than I, so he spoke mostly to her. After one question about the 'theme' of the place, he went through a few catch phrases. I added one that I'd read on the place's web site earlier. "Artisan-fast." He seemed pleased.
I wasn't worried about Robin as a rival, or competitor. As soon as she showed me her business card I knew we were there for entirely different reasons. I was there for content for my silly blog, she was looking for potential advertisers.
She'd brought along Cindy Collins, on-air talent for KLOU. Cindy introduced herself as a DJ.

Chris, Cindy, Candace

"They still make those?" I asked.
You see I don't listen to music on the radio if I don't have to. I have nothing against music on the radio, it's just that I cannot control it and I rarely enjoy enough of a particular genre to stick to one for more than a song or two.
I will try to find the station though, I don't mind living on the very edge occasionally.

Chris came by and chatted for a bit. Once again, Robin's people skills proved more charming than my own dour expression and steno-pad note taking. I actually enjoyed her company.
Robin, if you are reading this, my long time fans can tell you that that statement is quite a compliment. I'm not a people person.
The back area was filling up, business cards were being swapped among strangers as furiously and freely as STD's in the 70's. Yes, I have business cards. Because I'm a member of the media.
Chris then called the buzzing group to order and led us out for a tour of the kitchen area. It was easy to find, completely exposed to the front area as it was.

I was eager to see that custom-made pizza ovens that he had helped design. The temperature displays on the sleek, modern devices were flickering between 625 and 635 degrees. That's hot enough to melt lead (Pb). It's a temperature you'd expect on a more pleasant day on the planet Mercury, but for we water-based life forms, this is pretty hot.
The stacked ovens run on gas and had rotating stone trays inside, like a microwave.
He explained that this was an innovation unique to Crushed Red. This oven made it possible to fully cook a pizza in ninety seconds.
Of course, one of the problems for lunch crowds for a pizza place, is that traditionally, pizza takes a long time to prepare and then cook. A pizza joint, other than those disgusting pizza buffets (you know which ones) is not often a viable spot for a busy, cubical-dwelling worker bee to have lunch.
Speed up the process though and you may be onto something. Of course, the dough is vital to this process as well.
When they opened up, they hired a guy from Panera Headquarters. He happened to know a few things about dough. Crush Red developed a dough recipe that would taste good, cook fast while maintaining a quality texture. I would have to see for myself.
The front line though, was the salad prep line. Crushed Red serves pizza and chopped salad. That's pretty much it. I don't mind this. I find it quite appealing.
And the chopping is actually the thing.

We were given a demonstration by Candice, the operations manager. She showed us the custom-made mezzaluna knife. Mezzaluna means 'Half Moon' in Italian. ('Halve Maan' in Dutch.)  It is a curved knife, in Crushed Red's version with two blades.
We have a smaller domestic version at home, it was sold 'As Seen on TV' as an 'Ulu' chopper. We love the thing for finely chopping onions, peppers, fingers, etc. So I understood the concept.
Crushed Red uses a customized, limited edition model, only available to the public once per year. There's a waiting list. You can get something very similar, without the engraving, on line and at fine cutlery shops.

Candice was a pro, a true knifing artist as she walked and deftly rocked the tool over greens spread out on a flat chopping block. Amazingly fast. The demo was short, she filled a bowl in no time, then added some un-chopped toppings, turkey, toasted seeds, dried fruit, etc. It looked really, really good.
The salad she made had apple in it.
Chopped greens+apple? Wrap it up and call it a Dennis Salad. When I make my own salads at home, three or four times a week, I chop the greens and add an entire chopped apple. Then maybe some protein, cheese, etc. Robin and I discussed this, we were of the same mind on this. We hate getting a salad at a restaurant that needs further fussing with. Of course, if you chop greens, you can't leave them setting around very long. So if you have a salad bar, you have to leave things in larger chunks.
We then were told to line up and order our food.
They have predefined salads and pizzas, but they also allow you to build your own, if you have that kind of confidence.
I don't.

The Food:
I scanned the prominent electronic menus/ordering kiosks. The pre-defined salads and pizzas were

simple enough to choose between. I was going with standards, nothing fancy. I asked for a Farmers Market salad, small, much like the one Candace had chopped. Pizza was a little tougher, but I finally decided on the sausage pepperoni and mushroom option. This would make comparisons to other pizzas easier.
The folks behind the counter took over. The chopping began in earnest. The crew was obviously well trained and disciplined. The owner had referred to this as 'the show' which means he taught his staff to prepare food while being on display to customers.
We were offered a wide selection of wines and beers, I passed. I shouldn't be allowed to drink and blog.
Some folks from Modern Brewery were there for the event, passing out samples. I had to refuse. I simply don't have a trained palate for beers. I didn't want to taste it and then have to write that it was eerily reminiscent of opossum urine. That's pretty much what most craft beers taste like to me. Non-craft beers taste worse. But that's just me.
I rejoined Robin at the table. We had chosen the same salad.
During the demonstration, the owner had mentioned 'house-made honey mustard dressing'. When queried about my choice of dressing, I almost chose an off the shelf standard, but decided that even though 'honey-mustard' sounded a lot to me like 'fish- ice cream' I once again manned up and picked it. YOLO.

The salad was absolutely awesome, including the dressing. Flawless, perfect. Fresh, chopped perfectly dressed. Robin agreed, this was exactly what we wanted when we went out for a salad.
The pizza took a bit longer than I thought it would, but still in much less time than a typical pizza parlor. Part of the delay, in my opinion, is that there were a dozen or so pizzas being made and delivered, but there was no connection between the pizza and the person or table. The servers had to go from table to table asking everyone if they ordered the one they were carrying. I'm not sure if this was an 'event' issue or if this also happens in the front with non-VIP's. (Yes, I was considered a VIP, I am a member of the media, you know.)
It was worth the wait though. Roughly the size and shape of a fully deflated football. It may have only taken ninety seconds to cook, but the crust and toppings were done perfectly. A crispy, but not burnt or doughy crust, the cheese all melty, the sausage still sizzling.
The size was single serving perfect as well, plenty there, but little to waste. It had that 'artisan' look and taste. This was not discount, plain-label meat. The pepperoni and sausage were spicy and fresh. The mushroom flavor I never discerned, but for me, that's not a bad thing. I like a little mushroom, but, as with green peas, too much just overpowers everything else. I asked Robin about hers, first about the crust.
"It's like a thick flatbread, fluffy on the inside but not at all heavy."
I then asked her about the taste, whether it was yeasty. "I don't know what yeast tastes like. I can't identify that." She answered, seemingly baffled by the admission. I agreed that it was what she said, but I can taste/identify yeast, and it was there, but subtle, which for me is a very good thing.
For a simple, single serve pizza, it was as good as I've had anywhere, anytime. I was equally glad it was not St. Louis style.
A small salad, a tasty pizza, a wide range of wines and beers, I can see why this young enterprise is thriving and expanding. (In a few months, the lucky folks in Denver, Colorado will be able to enjoy it as well!)
__________

Earlier in the evening we had been handed VIP cards, individually numbered. We were told there would be a drawing. It was time. I had seen the table with the swag bags. In front of the bags was a nice basket chock full of interesting things.
Two bottles of wine, some jars of crushed red and pickled peppers and a box that I assumed held a Crushed Red mezzaluna.
I couldn't tell what was in the swag bags.
Chris drew a number, of course I didn't win. I'm not much of a winner when it comes to winning things.
They handed out the swag bags though, that was cool.
I bid Robin a kind farewell, she was getting ready to leave as well.
When I got home I spread out the swag. Not bad, not bad at all. A bottle of Edge Wild crushed red wine, a plastic thermos mug, a key ring/bottle opener from the beer guys, a beer koozie, and a $15 gift card.
I gave the gift card to my co-worker Tim. He'd expressed an interest in the place after I told him about the media event. His wife liked it too when he told her aboutit, the 'Artisan Fast' catch phrase seemed to be the ticket. I've never met Tim's wife but I have heard him talk to her on the phone a few times. At first Tim didn't want to take the card. I assured him It had cost me nothing so it was like the restaurant giving it directly to him, I was not planning to go back for several months and would likely forget about the card by then.
I don't remember what happened to the wine.
Summary:
I am under no obligation to Crushed Red, FishmanPR, or anyone else to say nice things about the place. There were no strings attached, no questions asked and no conditions listed, whatsoever. Nor does a free meal and a swag bag really influence my opinion. I can afford meals out and half the stuff in the bag will end up in that one kitchen drawer. You know the one.
Places take a big risk blind-inviting bloggers to events such as these. I am perfectly willing and capable of giving a bad review when it is deserved.
But I just can't this time.
I really liked the place. I liked the concept, the green-ness of the operation, the owners, the staff, even

the young man that bussed the table. (I asked him how he liked working there. "Best restaurant I've ever worked at." Was his instant reply.)
The menu, single serving pizza and chopped salad? Sold! Faster, yet fresh food? Brilliant!
If I lived closer to one of the locations I'd definitely consider going there more often.
It was modern, efficient, clean, and the food was definitely A+.
Highly recommended!
There, the media has spoken.

Oh, and special thanks to Robin. She was fun, funny and a seriously decent person for letting me impose. She even let me take a photo of her!

Fountain City Grill

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Trattoria Giuseppe

5436 Hwy 21
Imperial, Mo.

On Facebook
On the web

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


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

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

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

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

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







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

Home Shrimp

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

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

I made the meal.

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

The Food:

Shrimp, salad, garlic toast. Simple.

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

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

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

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

Time to prep the salad. 

The salad bar.

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

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

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

What?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The taste, as you can imagine, was heavenly. 

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

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

Dessert:

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

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

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

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

Happy Birthday Dear!

Local House Restaurant and Bar

3946 Jeffco Blvd.
Arnold, Mo.
On the Internet
On Facebook

We were discussing the options this week, the subject of fish tacos came up. I was game. Angel mentioned a place we went to a year ago, Cafe Arnold, that she thought made them better than most other places. I loaded up the review we did at the time and saw that the place had at that time, just changed ownership and that we liked it really well.
I also loaded up their online menu and saw that it looked the same. Decision, made.
So for the rest of the week, I decided I would order the fish tacos, something I've never, ever done before. Not that I don't like them, I do like a good one, they just aren't on my pop-up list of cravings.
So we went.
Uh oh.

The sign on the strip mall location had been replaced with a banner. "Now Open! The Local House". It said. We stood and stared at the banner for a few moments, not sure what to do. We saw people coming and going, so we finally decided to give it a  whirl.

The Place:
Pretty much the same as a year ago under the previous name. Nicely decorated, seven TV's on the dining area's walls all tuned to sports, muted. There was overhead music "I've Got Sunshine", "My Girl", "You Really Got a Hold On Me", etc. Back twenty or thirty years ago we called those songs 'Oldies'. I'm not sure what they are called now. I do know it wasn't country, or opera, two song genre's that tempt me to spray paint explicit obscenities on clean walls, so it was fine.  There was a separate bar area where there were even more muted, sports-infested flat screens. The small bar crowd was not too loud or rowdy, so we walked right past it.
We were led to a booth that we remembered as being just one or two booths away from the last time we

were there.
I usually do advance research on a place before we visit. This time I had nothing. So I broke my tradition and actually asked the young lady that was seating us about the apparent change.
Maddie concurred that the place had changed hands again about a month back. It was a quick-turn from the previous owner to the new one, a couple of weeks, which is why it looked exactly the same as before. It was a turn-key deal. New name, new management, new menu and new staff. No redecorating or remodeling.
Okay.
The Food:
The menu had changed completely. One thing that was noticeably missing was. . .  You guessed it, there were no fish tacos listed, anywhere.
There were lots of alternative options though. . . perhaps too many (more on that later).
Pizzas, burgers, sandwiches, pastas, steaks, a LOT of options.
It took me a while to refocus, I'd had fish taco on the brain for several days and was having trouble resetting that.
I didn't want pizza, or a fat burger. . . there, steak, can't go wrong with a steak. Fortunately they had an 8oz. option, a 'hand cut sirloin'. I like steak, but I don't ever want an entire side of beef. Especially if there is a salad and at least one starchy side.
I shouldn't have to explain this to you again, my tummy capacity has shrunk over the last couple of years. I haven't been able to actually finish a typical fat burger or pasta plate since.
Adam and Angel seemed to have decided as well, but like me, Angel would occasionally pick up the menu again and give it another go-over.
Maddie arrived with our drinks, tea, tea and Pepsi. The tea looked clear and fresh. A good start.

Angel and Adam had sort of decided on an appetizer, wings, but had to ask Maddie what a 'Trashed Butter Garlic' sauce was. Satisfied with the detailed explanation, they chose ten of those.
I wasn't too concerned myself, I don't like sports bar wings, anybody's. I don't want to have to pull up the Scoville scale to determine whether the things are going to burn through my innards or not.
Maddie came back quickly with the complimentary bread basket and pointed out the house made honey butter. We gave her our main course orders.
Me: 8oz. 'Hand Cut Sirloin', mashed potatoes and a house salad with the house vinaigrette.
Angel: Tutto Mare (seafood pasta, 'from the sea') with no salad, no side.
Adam: Spicy Chicken Sandwich and fries.
We slathered the creamy honey butter onto the small slices of bread and each agreed that there was no

discernible honey taste or texture. It was good, it just lacked that sweet note the item's name would indicate.
The wings came pretty soon. To be fair and objective, I tried a small pull from one of Angel's wings.
Then an amazing thing happened. I grabbed a small plate and slapped a full wing onto it. It was awesome!
Yeah, I know. But allow me to explain. These were not 'hot wings'. These were just very crispy, very tender and juicy wings soaked in a garlic butter sauce. Completely great! How they achieved and maintained that crispiness and depth of flavor, I have no idea.

I could stop right here and endorse this place just based on those wings alone. A mug of beer, a pile of those wings, I might even endure a sports competition on TV over something like that. (Not really)
Those wings disappeared.
My salad came soon after that.
A pretty salad, huge cucumber slices, large tomato chunks and thickly chopped lettuce with four or five croutons and a fistful of grated white (Provel) cheese.
Those among you that have followed this review site for a while know I have a couple of problems with that description. You know I don't like fussing with/cutting up salad ingredients. Sure, big thick toppings make a salad pretty, but salad bowls are not chopping blocks and the only blunt instrument available before the steak arrives is a butter knife that has the cutting capacity of those plastic kindergarten scissors. There will be spillage.
Not an instant black mark, more of a petty personal preference thing.
 My pimp* took me to a restaurant a couple of weeks back that offered a 'chopped' salad. Everything in it was chopped to the size of coleslaw. Loved it! When I make salads myself I make it somewhere in between, precisely so I don't have to fuss with it at the table.
The house vinaigrette was fine, a basic oil and vinegar dressing, nothing fancy or special.
Maddie came by a few times, each time engaging in conversation. I liked her. She was smart, friendly, and she certainly knew her menu.
Finally the entrees arrived with a few surprises, mostly in the portion size department.

My steak looked great, beautifully seared. The mashed potatoes were cooked dirty style, which I like, but there was a lot of them. Adam looked at the bowl and said that it looked like a serving for the entire family. Well, it could be worse, it could be too small. They tasted great though. I've had problems with a lot of places over-salting mashed potatoes. Not here though, the taste and texture of these were perfect. They'd offered gravy, which I'd refused. Angel, I'm sure, was thinking that turning down gravy was tantamount to high blasphemy.
The steak tasted great. I have to say though, it was tougher than I'd expected. Not shoe leather tough, just not top quality cut tender. I've had tougher steak, heck, I've cooked tougher steaks, but still, I have to mention it.
Angel's pasta dish was enormous. We've come to expect this. We're not sure why this occurs, pasta is very,
very filling. It's basically all starch so it bloats a person quickly. When we make pasta at home we use it sparingly. Pasta all tastes exactly the same, which isn't a lot, until you put sauce on it. The sauce and the sauce's ingredients are what make a satisfying dish. Too much pasta, like too much bread on a sandwich, actually detracts from the experience. According to Angel, the pasta was very dense as well. She really appreciated the chopped asparagus bits though. Some of the seafood nuggets, though quite tasty and plentiful, were chopped fine and hard to extract individually.

Adam's sandwich was obviously enormous. The chicken slab was bigger than the bun and most small animals we've maintained over the years. The taste, he pointed out, was "quite good", just too big, and the fries. . .too many to finish.
Hmmm, Spotting a trend here?
Summary:
I learned that the new managers/owners came form Joey B's in St. Louis. That's certainly not a rookie enterprise. Joey B's is an acclaimed and well known chain of restaurants in metro St. Louis. To have come up through there is a pretty good culinary pedigree.
Maddie was absolutely great, she came up from a popular St. Louis food truck herself, (The Cheese Shack) having started with them at the age of thirteen. She knew her stuff, answered all questions, was engaging and completely knowledgeable. She kept us refilled and the courses were delivered in perfect timing. She even tried to sell us on dessert, not knowing us well enough to know we don't usually leave room for dessert. She recommended the new 'Killer Bread Pudding'. Three  words I've never thought of putting together in the same sentence. We declined politely.
As for the food, well, the wings were simply outstanding. Everything else was quite tasty. We were not disappointed at all with the flavors.
The price was spot on for an appetizer and three big entrees, $65, about what you'd pay at a franchise sports bar.
But.
Adam nailed it, portion proportion.
The mashed potatoes were the worst offender. I've never seen any single individual eat that much mashed potatoes in a single day. The amount of pasta on Angel's plate was enough to feed a small village in Asia or Italy or wherever pasta comes from. Adam's chicken slab was enormous. None of us finished our meals. In other words, we paid for a lot of food we didn't actually eat.
As we were packing up, Maddie asked about take-home boxes. Angel and Adam said sure, then she looked at me and asked if I wanted a box for the mashed potatoes. . . . uh, no.
How much food goes out in take-out boxes?
I'll say it again, the food tasted just fine, they've got the recipes pretty much nailed.
A lot of recipes. A whole lot of recipes.
I was a little concerned about the sheer amount of diverse offerings. I'm no restaurateur, but I do watch a bunch of them on TV. I know that a place that has a big and wildly diverse menu selection often has a problem with inventory. Ingredients, if they are any good, have a very short shelf life. If you are going to offer pizza, burgers, sandwiches, seafood, pasta and other entrees, you have to have all the ingredients on hand, all day, every day. That's a big upfront cost. Some of it, if not most of it will get frozen or tossed. Freezing is a texture killer. Almost every thing, once frozen will even taste different when served. It doesn't take academy trained taste buds to discriminate between fresh anything and the frozen version.
I'm not saying that Local House has this problem, but it is a concern since so many other places with similar menu diversity have gone under either from the higher than average upfront food costs, or the quality degradation from the kitchen being stretched too thin.  I didn't really notice any problems like that this visit, so they may have really, really good controls in place. Time will tell.
And we will be back. They did just open a month or so ago, so as always with a new place, my remarks and rebukes are annotated with an asterisk. They're new, but we have a list of things to check on when we do go back.
You've got to try those wings, even if they don't have fish tacos.
Oh yeah, as also is my custom, I'll ask: Local House, Can you please, please have at least one of those 15 TV's tuned to another channel?




*Pimp. That's what we contractors affectionately call our consulting company representatives, also lovingly referred to as headhunters. They pitch our 'talents' to prospective clients and pocket a sizable fee up front. It's not meant disparagingly.