Biscuits and Brats for Lunch? Oh my!

A beautiful day to watch a game and lunch in the Gump at the same time.

There are many fine places to each lunch in the Gump as we have shown. But there are few to match the ambiance of a fresh Bratwurst and cool beverage on a sunny mild day amidst the friendly confines of Riverwalk Stadium while watching a close Montgomery Biscuits' game. I know what you are thinking: The games are at night! Not even the Shadow Pup eats lunch at night!

Not so fast, onion breath. Every year the Biscuits entertain school children from all over Alabama during day games they call Grand Slam School Days. I attended today's event. The next will be May 5th at 10:35 a.m. On the days of such games, around noon you can saunter over to the stadium and get in without a ticket and see the rest of the game from about the 6th inning on. Of course, you will be in the midst of thousands of elementary and junior high brats...errr...students....on hyper-sugar highs who sing and dance to every "bumper" song played between innings, but after you get used to their frenetic energy, the joy of being at the game becomes contagious and everything tastes even better. Today, I went with my usual Bratwurst, shown below

Never point a loaded brat at anyone!

The owners of the Biscuits are famous among minor league circles as serving up some of the best ballpark food around: cheese steaks, half-pound grilled burgers, brats, Italian sausage dogs, and tacos (just to name a few). In fact, I believe Riverwalk may be the only place in the Gump you can get a grilled brat or Italian sausage dog. Anyone who has every had one will never go back to a plain wiener dog if they have an option. Add grilled onions and you are in Gump heaven--especially if you love baseball. Or perhaps, even if you just love Civil War history. I note the stadium is on the site of a former Confederate prison/hospital.

Apparently, the food was not the strong point prior to the Biscuits.

Most that attend Biscuits games come for the baseball, beer and food all at reasonable prices. Today they were serving the brats (err...students) hot-dogs at $1 a pop. Even at that price they were not as popular as anything with sugar. But you just cannot top having lunch in the shade behind home plate while you watch a young Biscuits phenom go into the 8th inning with a shutout. It's good food plus good baseball and there is no other place in town that offers both for lunch.
Go Biscuits!

A rare lull in the dancing and singing when a baseball game broke out.

See you down the river, Cap'n Pat

Lunch in the Gump mourns the loss of Richard T. "Cap'n Pat" Dozier, who passed away Wednesday at the age of 79.

Pat was an original, one of the great characters we are fast running out of here in the Gump. Owner of the Montgomery Marina and the benevolent king of our particular bend of the Alabama River, Pat spread more warmth and good humor through the decades than all of the ice cold beers ever consumed on his rickety deck.

This is just a blog, so there isn't room for all of the Pat Dozier stories that have made the rounds over the years. Some of these stories are God's honest truth. Others, like any Southern tale worth telling over and over, are mostly legend. Maybe somebody will compile them all into a big fine book one day.

I was never fortunate enough to be more than an acquaintance, but when I went to breakfast at the Farmer's Market I would sit close enough to eavesdrop on Pat and his cronies. If you ever needed to know the difference between mere friends and cronies, that was it. Man, to have been one of Cap'n Pat's cronies. That would have been something.  

Anyway, suffice to say that Cap'n Pat was kind, humorous and memorable... the sort of man you hate to see go, wish you had gotten to know better and won't ever forget. He was the arch-nemesis of the county health inspector and a man who saw the building code as a general guideline. Over the last few years the tenants have come and gone, but the stories will live forever. He provided us a place to watch the sun go down from upriver, surrounded by our friends, not really worried about much of anything.

Condolences to all of Pat's family and friends.

Picture of Cap'n Pat at the top is from the Advertiser.

  

Bama Bistro with Coratio Sauce!!

Bama Bistro to Go!

Back where I come from we sometimes eat fish for breakfast. I know my fish. Also, given my problems with gout, I have had to cut back on my extravagant lunch habits and my consumption of carbohydrates. These two ideas collided today with the idea of trying "Bama Bistro" again but, this time, ordering the grilled Tilapia. I hate to brag, but I believe I out-ordered the entire Gump today. That means you Whig in a Blanket! And, as a convenience, I ordered it to go so I could dine alone on my private lunch patio deep in the cool depths of the Gump.

This is what greeted me when I opened the Styrofoam:

Shown on my personal dining patio (doesn't everyone have one?). Fancy tablecloth not included.

When you order the grilled Tilapia from Bama Bistro and Chef Coratio is behind the grill, you are going to get a freshly grilled piece of fish AND a made from scratch buttery sauce with Tarragon (?) that rivals anything I have had in a while. For my sake, due to the low-carb diet, Chef C omitted the rice and substituted collards (with real ham hocks) and green beans, both of which were NOT from a can. Being a legal alien, I am not really sure what a ham hock is so I took a picture:

A "hock"

If you do not like "hocks" in your collards, go to an all you can eat buffet where the collards are poured out of gallon-size cans. To me, a hock in your collards or beans means "home cooked."

The price for this feast (with diet beverage) was just around $8 with tax. Well below the Tojo line. I would recommend calling ahead, however, because the entree really is cooked to order and it takes a few minutes to prepare. But today I enjoyed a nice chat with the patrons while waiting and learned a lot about why representing women in domestic relations cases is a pain in the.....(but that is a whole different story).

But while waiting I did learn some good news: Bama Bistro now has a liquor license and serves breakfast (for $3.99)! I love a nice tot of Jameson with my fried eggs don't you? To top it off, they are talking about opening on weekends too.

Bama Bistro's phone number is (334) 240-6938. It is located at 15 Commerce St. next to ServisFirst Bank (the old Colonial Bunker).

They are truly locally owned and deserve our seal of approval (which is a surprised-looking carp):

No offense Cornbread.

Rumor Gumbo in the Gumpo

The Latest Poop:

If you haven't noticed, this is an internet blog run by real people with fake names about things that interest us. We have become the world's most popular and widely read blog specializing in eating lunch within the by-pass of Montgomery, Alabama, a/k/a "The Gump." We did not become the "No. 1 Blog" on Urban Spoon by sticking to the facts like gravy on a biscuit. Occasionally, we simply make stuff up to have fun. We pull legs and pulleybones. We digress. We embellish. We photoshop. We play jokes and we repeat rumors. So, with that warning, here is the latest in the Gump Rumor Gumbo:

Nancy Patterson's: Looks like work in Zelda Place is feverishly proceeding in the old Klein's location on their combination pizza place and fine dining restaurant working out of the same kitchen. Supposedly, the pizza place will be opening by May 1 with the fine dining side coming on line later. Over a billion dollars was spent renovating the place with a grant from the Intermediate Business Administration and a bond issue underwritten by Goldman Sachs. This looks for real. How you work two disparate restaurant themes from the same kitchen is going to be fun to watch. About as fun as watching the cooks yell at each other at Sa-Zas. Of course, after we posted The Advertiser printed their article. Late as usual.

Chappy's Deli--Word on the street is that Chappy's will no longer sell sandwich trays for wakes, funerals or mediations as they want to shake the "Bad News Tray" designation it has earned among wags in the Gump. "Everything in Moderation" they say. Even a Chappy's sandwich tray gets old after about a hundred times in a year--all associated with sadness or pains in the arse. So, if after about a month you get a hankering for another Chappy's tray, don't let on it is for your grann's wake or it will be "No Tray for You!"

Derk's Filet and Vine--As the government creeps into every aspect of our lives, it is about time they required some semblance of order in the way restaurants throw around words like "cantina," "deli," "grille," "cafe," "palace," "pub," "bistro," and "sushi bar." You may or not be glad to learn that the Obama Regime's Health Care Reform has established a new federal agency called the "Restaurant Naming Commission" or RNC to regulate such things for the sake of our health. Unfortunately, our favorite cafeteria style meat and three was discovered to be the only cafeteria in town without "Cafe" in the name. Under duress, Derk is changing the name of his place to Derk's Filet Cafe. It was that or being taxed out of existence. Incidentally, rumor has it that, if you are sick of the ubiquitous Chappy's Sandwich Tray (i.e. the Bad News Tray), Derk's offers a nice alternative at a slightly higher price. Here is what happened to one of their trays today in 10 minutes after someone announced via e-mail: "There is a leftover sandwich tray in conference room 1-E."

Before....

After. (Surprised the tongs survived)

I certainly hope no one was standing in the doorway as the hordes approached.

The AlleyBAR--Don't let this get out, but the owner of the AlleyBAR is seriously considering offering lunch in the near future. They already serve some food in the evening to the hordes of college types while they drink frozen shots in their fake fur coats at 2 a.m.. In fact, if he pulls the trigger on this caper, the Lunch in the Gump has been invited to review the new menu so you will be the first to know. It will be interesting to see if they can compete with the other places currently in the Alley (Sa-Zas and Dreamland) or whether it creates a synergy positive to all concerned. Nice restroom art but may be a little much for the Blue-Hairs from the gun show eating lunch.

Ala-Thai--Now has three locations in the Gump! Who would ever have thought that the little understated Thai place in a seedy old strip mall near the Coliseum and next to a pool hall and laundromat would expand to the "Towne Center" development on Ann Street and out in West Shorter on the Atlanta Highway. Very different from Lek's, the cuisine is lighter and very fresh but nevertheless fine for mild American taste buds. The Shadow Pup declared the meat authentic and no threat to pets, foreign or domestic.

Bama Bistro--Ran into Chef Coratio the other day and he told me the notice sign on the restaurant was about him trying to get a liquor license (on agenda at city council meeting April 20th). The plan to put chairs tables outside and have happy hour: Brisket and Bourbon for all!

With this I leave it to you, the reader, to sort the wheat from the chaff, the butter from the Promise, and the homemade from the mix. Rest assured we will not rest until all is revealed.

Hamburger King Closes for Unknown Reason(s)

This better be temporary or I will go postal.

BE BACK

MAY 3RD

What gives? Seeking grease infusion therapy at lunch today naturally led to a desire for the famous Hamburger King "Widowmaker." Alas, upon arriving at the little hole in the wall on Decatur Street there were no signs of life and a terse sign, in block red letters screaming: "BE BACK MAY 3RD" All caps. No exclamation point. No period. Absolutely no punctuation at all. Totally punctuation-less. I mean, as you can see, "BE BACK MAY 3RD" was all there was. Unlike Gen. McArthur's vow to return to the Philippines with an egotisitical "I Shall Return!" the persons who posted this sign probably meant something plural. But, unlike McArthur, these ballsy owners stated a date (assuming they mean 2010). Very confident and certain. But comforting? Hardly. Especially to those poor HK junkies I saw in the noon shadows looking weak and gaunt (as if overweight people can ever look gaunt in one day of fasting). But what has really happened?

Does this mean: "(We Hope to) BE BACK MAY 3RD"? or "(We Will Definitely) BE BACK MAY 3RD?" Does it refer to us? "(You Should) BE BACK MAY 3RD"? Enquiring Minds Want to Know. Is this a vacation or an OSHA imposed respite from grease-saturated air for the staff? Is this a vacation or a chance to fumigate the premises? Is this a vacation or a chance to reload the meat? (Please don't let the feds touch that grill surface!) "Enquiring" minds and growling stomachs need to know!! We hope for the former and fear the latter. I mean who other than a fat cat corporate exec with a golden parachute has a vacation lasting a month? Is there some sickness in the family or some tragedy? Heaven forbid.

All I know is that if the HK closing lasts longer than May 2nd, then the Recession Officially Sucks! Don't know about you but we will be in line on the 3rd and the grease better flow or "(We will) BE PISSED MAY 4TH"--BIG TIME! And I am a postal worker who can afford to add an exclamation point!

Eastside Grille: It could have been worse!

“Well, that didn’t suck TOO bad.”

Woe is the restaurateur who is given this comment upon the conclusion of an LITG visit. For you are merely a bad batch of cornbread mix away from certain death!

On this lovely Friday afternoon one LITG member who shall remain anonymous was feeling a bit ballsy and decided to con the rest of us into Crossing The Wall. Our destination: Eastside Grille (yes, with an “e” on the end) on the Atlanta Highway.

The trip started out well. We synchronized our watches. We formed a plan of action. We stealthily slipped past interior security with military precision. We landed like ninjas in our mode of transport and off we went.

Then, much like the walls of Jericho, everything came a-tumblin’ down. First, there was some confusion on location. Where were we headed? What far off country were we venturing toward? Should we be driving on the left-hand side of the road? Are we there yet? How do we get there? Is this Opelika? Which exit should we take? Then, there was confusion as to time. What time should we meet? Is that what time we are to leave, or is that what time we are supposed to get there? What time zone are we in? Then, we began to get nervous about our surroundings and even our own ability to fit in. Would we be able to assimilate ourselves? What’s the exchange rate? Is that my parole officer? SHIT, take cover!

We arrived, however, relatively intact. Since we had made it so far, we figured we might as well stay and eat. At that point, it seemed the worst was behind us.

Foolish, foolish mortals. How many times must you learn? NEVER LEAVE THE GUMP!

It’s not that the food was bad. It was, actually, as heretofore stated, not too suck-y. But it wasn’t great, either. It was meat & three. It was what we have seen and tasted before. It is what we have tirelessly consumed day in, day out in order to make this blog the pinnacle of great literature that it is. Only this time we had to go beyond the protection of the Gump and beyond the limits allowed by our ankle bracelets. And we had to pay $1.75 (each) for a glass of tea. And it was freezing cold in there. And not only was it little more than OK, it was SLOW! I mean, real slow. I mean, like, get-your-favorite-edition-of-War-and-Peace-and-curl-up-with-your-blankie-because-you-are-going-to-be-here-a-while slow.

If you want to get an idea of how long we were out, here’s a clue: During the course of the trip and meal, topics of conversation included – but were not limited to - the following: the State of Alabama being so incredibly backward, generally (check the pompadour at left), Alabama and Auburn football (no-brainer), Oedipus Rex (don’t ask), Biscuits baseball (past and future), Braves baseball (and wife beaters), oxygen tanks (there was a shitload of them there, by the way), someone (or something?) called “the Chicken” (don’t get me started), Brett Michaels/Poison/hair bands/Steven Tyler/men who wear bandanas on their -- real and/or fake -- hair (‘nuf said), the U.K.’s final resolution to the “great crisp” debate (that’s “chips” for us 'mericans), al fresco dining (actually a good option at Eastside Grille), Congress’ latest attempt to “fix” the U.S. health care system (see prior LITG entry), “grills” vs. “cafes” (what’s the difference, anyway?), and the Masters (a LOT about the Masters, which then led to something about eagles and birdies and albatrosses. To be honest, I don’t know if we were talking about golf or zoo weekend at that point. I lost track. I think I might have had a momentary loss of consciousness due to the lack of food and the frigid temperatures).

You get the idea. Now, that’s a lot of talking. A lot of unnecessary talking. When I could be eating instead.

In summary: The food was OK, but it wasn’t great. It was cold. It was slow. A lot of old people were there.

So, if you want to take about 3 hours for lunch and if you give a damn about having an “e” at the end of your “grille” of choice, then this might the place for you. In other words, you might like it if you are French.

My advice? (1) Don’t go unless you are in the area (hey, it could happen!); (2) Go at dinnertime so you can leisurely eat your meal, sit outside, and enjoy some live music; and (3) Bring your own tea. In a Mason jar. And if they kick you out for it, take your ass back to where you are welcome. To the GUMP!

What the Gump and the Masters Have in Common

Where the members sit.

I enjoy getting calls from "Patrons" at the Master's

For those of you who are not golfers, you should know this is Master's week.  Practice rounds conclude Wednesday and on Thursday the most unpretentiously pretentious golf tournament in the world will begin at the most exclusive golf club in America: Augusta National.  Why, it is a club so exclusive, that if you ask how to get in you cannot get in.  If you ever suggest you would like to know much it costs, you cannot get in.  If you are already a member and ever mention getting out--you are no longer a member.  It is so exclusive that no one in the Gump--not even the Whig--can claim to be a member.  Very few in the Gump even know a member and even fewer have actually played golf there.  And don't get me started on the tournament. One has to "qualify" and then be invited.  This year 97 qualified including one golfer from Auburn (Dufner).  So what has this to do about lunch in the Gump?  Not a lot, but please read on anyway....

One of the quaint benefits of being a "patron" at the Master's is that almost at every convenient spot there are very well built, designed, tasteful and perfectly maintained concession "barns" (never seen on TV) at which you can buy all sorts of unpretentious food and beer at very reasonable prices (of course not factoring in the cost of admission which can be quite sporty).  For example, those who have been rave about the $1.50 pimento cheese sandwhiches in the green wrappers that apparently never are allowed to touch the manicured turf anywhere on the course. (Why, even the squirrels are dyed green during the tournament).

Like the Whig, I am a fan of the finer things in life (despite my decayed finances) and I too lament the lack of a place to enjoy an afternoon of lunch with all the hoi polli and I heartily commend you to the Whig's lament: "Before it was the Gump" above.  And, as I am sure the Whig would say, I will grant there is not a more classy and well-run golf tournament in the world than the Master's and that the Augusta National Golf Club is probably in the finest overall condition of any golf course in the world  and certainly better than anything in the Gump or Alabama (Shoal Creek notwithstanding).  But, in defense of the Gump, my adopted home, I must say that there is one thing we have that holds a candle to the Masters:   Mamas Sack Lunches!

I have never been to the Masters or to Mamas.  As far as the Masters is concerned, there are issues relating to the general conditions of parole.  With regard to Mamas, I have not been there because I have my "assistant" phone in the order and my "runners" collect my lunch and bring it back to my office.  But I have always been pleased with the results compared to the costs.  Here is the sack as it came back from Mamas today:

A Mamas order is about the size of a nap-sack with your name embroidered on the side. 

(How did that 18-year-old get into the picture?)

Upon opening the personalized nap-sack, you find (1) your sandwich (in my case piled thick with chicken salad on wheat); (2) a chocolate chip cookie; (3) a pickle spear; (4) a package of chips; (5) an apple and to top it all off (6) a Hersey's kiss.  See the full contents below:

Quite a spread (Toby Mug and crystal bowl not included)

Now here's the "menu" at Augusta National during the 2010 Master's:

Note that a sandwich, cookie, candy, fruit and sack of chips will set you back a total of $6.50 (not counting the $36 ticket for the practice round).  Now, and here's the point, what do you think the sack full of stuff from Mama's cost me (not counting the tip to the runner who picked it up)?  It was $6.04 with the mayor's share i.e. tax, tag and title out the door.  (It would have been UNDER $5.50 without the tax). And it was good too.  Pineapple in the chicken salad was a nice touch.  Apple could have been sweeter but they do not control that at Mamas or at the Masters.

So while we may not have a club, golf course or golf tournament approaching Augusta National and the Master's, we can compete in reasonably priced sack lunches to go. Give them a call at 265-5554 and pick up your order at 21 S. Perry Street. But please don't comment on what it looks like inside Mamas, let me imagine its like a concession barn at the Masters and leave it at that.

A contrite Tiger with Fred Couples on 7.