Gump Soup: Cleaning Out the Clipboard File for 2011

Our Dear (and expendable) Leader

Things are a bit hectic this time of year.  Following world events today is like watching a drunk chase a balloon near the edge of a cliff. Alas, we must remain focused on the things we can change. Our role at LITG is to constantly work behind the scenes to ensure the enjoyment of the lunching class in Montgomery. We visit many places you will never see reviewed. Sometimes it is because they do not inspire our creative gravy. Usually it's just because we are too lazy or busy to compose. Although I hear there are several reviews in the works (which is sort of like hearing "the check's in the mail"), I thought that on this rainy/dreary afternoon as our office staff thins out, the phones stop ringing and the e-mails stop pinging (because other folk have already shut it down for the holidays), I would spend my last few non-productive hours before Christmas cleaning out my clipboard and photos for 2011. So here goes....

Yes, the tablecloths remind you of Gateway computer boxes...

Back during the competition for the best hamburger in Alabama contest, which was sponsored by the Alabama Cattleman's Association (a huge conflict of interest), we heard the Stockyard Grill was one of the finalists. A fun Irish joint in Mobile (Callaghans), places we've never heard of in Tuscaloosa and Tuscumbia, and our own Hamburger King were in the running. We had never tried the Stockyard Grill so the GGP's went in. Coincidentally, Channel 12 was filming that day (so we had to remain in disguise). The Stockyard Burger was large and Totted (served with Tater Tots). But as Yogi says: "Nobody goes there anymore because it is too crowded." It was hard to get a seat that day at least. But, we definitely would go back. By the way, Callaghans won the contest.  I highly recommend you visit them when in Mobile.

Stockyard Burger and Totters

We also visited Red's Little Schoolhouse in Grady Alabama. The Carp reported great "Ho-Cakes" and he wasn't trying to be funny nor dis the local females. Unfortunately Red's black cat lives under the stairs so if you are prone to superstition, this might not be the place for you. Interesting photos of all of our Presidents adorn the walls like the old elementary school it used to be. (Obviously, the photos of the early guys are paintings.) I would tell you where it was but I would have to shoot you. Suffice it to say it is WAY outside the Gump and only worth a trip if you are lost in southern Montgomery county and ravenously hungry.

Note the Black cat at Red's.  He's a Georgia Bulldog fan...

At the risk of being accused of trying to be punny, after hearing some interesting radio commercials we tried some "BJs Famous Hot Dogs" on airbase boulevard. You know, the radio spot where "my darling wife makes the slaw." I went in alone to find a very clean and well run family operation. The BJ's were very satisfying except for the buns. I like mine steamy and they toast them. In any event the BJ sauce was homemade and tangy. It's not up to Chris's Hot Dogs standards, but it is worth a try if you are out near Maxwell Country Club and need a quick BJ's.

Cafe Louisa has almost a cult following and fared pretty well in last year's LBCS. We finally gave in to the "Occupy Cloverdale Road" crowd and paid a visit during lunch only to find a listless wait staff serving a plain-Jane chicken salad "sammich" which looked like I had made it myself from a loaf of Colonial wheat and a tub of Public's tarragon chicken salad. No fruit. No garnish. No chips. Just two pieces of bread with some chicken salad listlessly spread in the middle and served on a bare plate. And not cheap. Not a bad sandwich just nothing special. Next time in the Big "O" I would opt again for Tomatino's.

So. That about wraps it up for 2011 and LITG. Our clipboard is now empty and waiting for a new set of reviews in 2012. Again, our mission is service. In 2012 perhaps we will solve the Man-Made Global Warming Debate along with the proper temperature to order Duck. Anyway, we at LITG wish all of you a very merry Christmas, happy Hanukkah (however the hell you spell it) and a better 2012 than you deserve!

By the way, voting for the 2011 LBCS championship is still ongoing. Don't forget to vote!

Dining with a Badass Honey Badger Who Doesn't Give a ....

During this holiday season many of us are invited to events where we share our table with others which usually offers us the joy of meeting new people or, at the very least, getting to know casual acquaintances better.  That is not always the case, however.  Not, at least, when you dine with a honey badger.

Sharing two for one steaks at Gumpwood CC with a honey badger is, to say the least, an ear-opening experience because, as you will read, Honey Badgers don't care. They say and take what they want. Nothing is too ridiculous, scandalous or pompous for a badass honey badger to tackle. (For a funny video on the honey badger narrated by Randall click here .  After you watch that, read what happened at Gumpwood recently):

While enjoying some very well prepared dry-aged  steak a la William, our Gumpwood Honey Badger enjoyed his 2009 Kosta Browne  Pinot Noir and filet mignon (for one for some reason) and, after very little prodding, began first to announce how he had figured out women while in college in the 60s. Most honey badgers are well-known horn dogs. But our local Honey Badger had the following secret: (1) Learn to dance well; (2) Wear nice clothes and (3) Listen to them (which is funny because the Honey Badger did not listen to any of the women at the table the entire evening). Of course, after hearing these ideas, the women within earshot were nodding in agreement like King Cobras about to have their heads bitten off. To break his spell I decided to make a joke.

"Well, why don't we talk about something non-controversial...like politics?"

Did the Honey Badger get the hint?  Hell no.  The Honey Badger don't care. He's pretty badass. No, he dug right into that subject like a honey badger tearing into a angry beehive. After first suggesting we needed another Lee Harvey Oswalt to take care of business (which was a joke) our Honey Badger proceeded to announce his distaste for all Republican candidates except nutty Ron Paul who thinks we should allow Iran to have nukes. He pounced on Newt because of his prior infidelities much to the glee of the women.  But despite their stings of indignation concerning the Honey Badger's attack on Mitt or Michelle, the Honey Badger kept on going until he had offended about everyone--twice! Then he said: "Anyone who is still a Democrat or Republican today is a dumb f*ck!" Aloud. Out loud and LOUD! Honey Badger don't care.  Honey Badger don't give a sh*t.  He just says what he wants. He then hit his conspiracy theories on about any subject you can imagine: The Kennedy assassination, AIDs and the CIA, the Siegleman Trial, City Grill moving to Hampstead etc.

Despite the expected futility of my actions, I tried now to take the heat off the Honey Badger which was palpably growing around him.  "Heh, heh, that's rich.  Say, why don't we move on to polite conversation on a subject like....religion.  Heh heh...."

The Honey Badger just blinked his cold black eyes, grinned with his pointy incisors like the Cheshire Cat and then tore into the subject with all the aplomb of Gingrich declaring that Palestinians were a made-up peoples. Obviously, the Honey Badger don't give a sh*t.  Baptists were "prudish priggs," Catholics were "pedophiles" or "pederasts," "greedy" Jews were "the cause of our recession," Episcopalians were "whiskeypalians," and atheists were "godless devils." Did I leave anyone out?  No, I don't believe he did. He may not have mentioned Buddhists or other so-called religions but I am probably mistaken. By the end of this rant, everyone at the table was wishing the Honey Badger would finish his No. 1 in 2011 wine and move on to plunder another beehive. Then, apparently because of his own mention of pedophiles, the Honey Badger hit the sordid Penn State/Sandusky mess with the finesse of a sledge hammer and the detail of a college sex-ed class.

After gorging on the sensibilities of those around him, the sated Honey Badger eventually left for another group of people to regale with his knowledge and wisdom and profane witticisms.

After he left, I raised my glass and proposed a toast: "As Morgan Freeman said in 'Bruce Almighty': It's Hell knowing everything."
 
My unspoken addition was: "And why in the world would an LSU defensive back want a nick-name like 'Honey Badger'?"



 
Honey Badger Takes What He Wants!

Egg and I: The Perfect Antidote for Turkey Coma and Collegiate Handbladder

I may have been born in Ireland, but after decades here I get Thanksgiving and American Football. As for Thanksgiving, which to some is an excuse for overeating, I have grown to like the taste of Turkey and Dressing and the underlying message of being thankful for our many blessings.  I admit I have indulged in both and experienced the placebo effects of small doses of L-tryptophan which provide a very good afternoon snooze Thanksgiving Day.
 
As for American Football, which should really be named "Handbladder" because it does not truly involve a ball-shaped object and normally involves use of the hands instead of feet, I understand the basic concept of four downs to cover 10 yards and the speed, strength and toughness needed to excel.  In some respects it is much like the Irish football (a form of Rugby) which I played on the fields of Trinity College in Dublin without pads or helmets.  You may be surprised to learn that we have an American Football Association in Ireland where the Carrickfergus Knights of the IAFL North battle my Trinity College and The Dublin Rebels of the IAFL Central.  In fact, it was the Dublin Rebels who won the Shamrock Bowl XXIV in August. Those of you history-deprived Southerners wallowing in the shame or indignation of your War Between the States probably do not realize that a team named the Rebels would be very popular in Dublin since some of you probably are not aware of our little dust-up with the British around the time you Yanks were involved in World War I.  No matter.

The point of all of this is that on Sunday after Thanksgiving and your Iron Bowl I had the idea of trying out the Egg and I in Z-Red for a truly American breakfast that I can understand and enjoy.  I am aware that the Egg and I is a chain concept but it, like Dreamland, is locally owned by someone who actually works there during most public hours so it qualified for a LITG visit/review and, by Paddy, I was the right bloke to try it out. I may not understand why Alabama fans pull for a team called the Crimson Tide but have an emaciated elephant mascot or Auburn fans have a live eagle fly around with a tiger mascot with an oversized head, but I understand the basic game.  And frankly, on Sunday I was tired of turkey and all the talking about the game--the breast beating and the teeth gnashing.  It is obvious to me, an outsider, that one year one of these teams will be the best and the next another. All the talk about which is a better university because of the outcome of the game makes no sense, at least to me.

"The Flapper" Pre-Syrup

After suffering turkey and football overload what makes sense to me is some comfort food. Every now and then, nothing says "comfort food" like a giant pancake covering your entire plate slathered with butter and warm maple syrup. Add to that some fresh scrambled eggs, sausage, a hot cup of coffee and some fresh-squeezed orange juice and the mind and body returns to stasis.  A little pricey ($3 juice and an extra $1 for cheese on the eggs) but nevertheless a simple meal for a simple Irishman who is ready to move on to the Christmas season thankful for his blessings regardless of the outcome of a rousing game of handbladder a/k/a armoured wankerball.

So whether you are a Roll Eagle or a War Tide, I think we can all agree that a good hot breakfast at Egg and I provides some solace even if your University is not very good at football.  Give the Egg and I a try and let us know what you think.

May the best pancakes win!

Cheers. CNA.

Bún 101: Vietnamese Vermicelli at Saigon Bistro

Like many of us do over time, I have branched out from the usual meat and three rut and boy am I glad I have.  Fried chicken, okra and cornbread are fine but as a change of pace I have become especially fond of Asian cuisine. Meals at India Palace, and Green Papaya have taught me there is some mighty fine food out East (and I am not talking about East Montgomery a/k/a West Shorter). Based upon the recommendation of No Grits No Glory, I tried Sushi Cafe and agree that it is a great new place in Z-Red which also serves Asian cuisine.

So, when the Younger and Tiny Dancer suggested we try some Vietnamese food at Saigon Deli I bit. Literally.

As it turns out, the family which ran Saigon Deli moved their act to the former Lone Star Steakhouse next to the Fatback Outback Steakhouse this past October. They have renamed it Saigon Bistro. The Vietnamese restaurant, owned by David Mai, is now located at 1060 East Blvd. It is a little of a pain to get to (you have to turn into Sam's and then turn right into the parking lot behind the restaurant) but worth the inconvenience.

I obviously know very little about Vietnamese cuisine and will not pretend to lecture you here. A frequent patron recommend the Chicken or Beef Curry Vermicelli Bowl which caused me to do a double-take and ask: "Vermicelli? That doesn't sound very Vietnamese?"

"Well, Vietnam was once a French Colony, so they have a French influence," I was told. And, for a second it made sense. But then it hit me, vermicelli is an Italian pasta. It isn't French at all. Is it?

Well, actually it is. The thin noodles are really "long ass rice" used in many Asian dishes and are called Bún in Vietnamese. Vermicelli is just the Italian word for thin noodles. Confused? Just order it. With beef instead of chicken it costs just $6.50 and I bet you that you cannot eat the entire meal. The bowl it comes in is the size of a popcorn bowl. Add some peppers and bean sprouts and you will have more than you can handle especially if you have some fresh spring rolls filled with two shrimp apiece.

Tiny Dancer got some tofu vegetarian dish she liked a lot. The Younger ordered what I did and loaded it down with some of the pepper sauces on the table. When we finished he was breathing fire but very happy with the meal.

Service was fast and friendly with a lot of "Thank you sirs." The inside of the former steakhouse is open and can accommodate a lot of patrons.

I recommend you go try Saigon Bistro and have some Bún! You will find it on the menu page for Vermicelli. Go figure.

 

Semper Pie: Mrs B's Home Cooking and the Corps

I have a deep respect for the Marine Corps or, more specifically, Marines. In 1945 my father was 17 when as a private in the 5th Marine Division he came ashore on Iwo Jima and eventually earned a Bronze Star leading what was left of is company from pill box to pill box. He witnessed the flag being raised on Mt. Suribachi...both times...and lived to tell about it. Only he wouldn't.

Flash forward to 2011 and a close friend's son-in-law, a Marine Harrier pilot, has just deployed for his first combat action in Afghanistan. "From the halls of Montezuma, to the shores of Tripoli..." We are all praying for his safe return.

I had no idea, when the LITG gang arrived for the first time at Mrs B's Home Cooking on Cullman Street, that my respect for the Marine Corps and my appreciation of fresh southern vegetables, cornbread and fried chicken could both be enjoyed at the same time.

Like most Marines, the outward appearance of Mrs. B's may not appear inviting. The neighborhood is not great, the old house Mrs. B's occupies had seen better days and there was a sign posted that said simply: "Cook Wanted." Like some Marines, the Facebook page for Mrs. B's evidenced someone whose strongest attributes did not include writing or grammar. For example:

"I THANK EVERYBODY SUPPORT MRS B'S OPEN ONN SUNDY ALSO FROM 11 TO 4 TODAY WE HAVE TURKER, BAKE DRESSING, OX TAILS, SMOTHER PORK CHOP, FRIED CHICKEN, CHITTLING, COLLARD GREEN CABBAGE GREENS, MAC/CHEESE, STEAM OKRA, FRIED CORN, YYYAMS, RICE, SQUASH CASS, CORN BREAB, ROLL AND DESSERT ETC. PLEASE SEND THIS TO YOUR THAT DON'T NO ABOUT MRS B'S DON'T KEEP IT TO YOURSELF THANK YOU."

However, also true to the Marines, once you get past the outward appearances and reveal the core of the people and place involved, you realize they are special. Marines do things and don't necessarily talk about them very well, if at all. As soon as I saw the man greeting us I knew he was a Marine (there are no "former" Marines). It was the way he carried himself. And everyone working in this place appeared either to be part of a very close family or disciplined to make every guest feel that everyone working there were part owners.

To me, Mrs. B's is a special place. The interior of Mrs B's has been restored with love, hard work and an attention to detail. The steam table is short and full of what people used to call "soul food" but today we recognize as southern home-style cooking. For eight bucks (including tea) you receive a plate full of fresh vegetables and your choice of meat and cornbread. As a connoisseur of the latter I can affirm it's quality. The pie for dessert was also excellent. The next time I go back I might even try the oxtails. I would trust them to be the best oxtails in Montgomery.

But the memory I carry from my visit to Mrs. B's was looking up from a very tasty plate of food toward a Marine Corps flag and seeing on the wall the pictures of what appeared to be the four sons and daughters of the owner.

They were all young Marines.

Like my father.



Semper fi.

LITG Halloween Special: The Night of the Living Poblanos!

They appear docile. Some are bilingual and wear sombreros. But none are to be trifled with.


Just when you thought it was safe to come out of the water or, perhaps, the drainage ditch, they attack.

Any LITG regular knows from which they come. It is from this way they come. And there is nothing more horrible than a furious, voracious, or, even worse, a wounded Chile Poblano.

They are offered on many menus. But. But. When angered. When not held at bay. They can attack. They can attack like Michael Meyers on Halloween. They can attack like an Alien in the belly of an actor with a terrible English accent. And it is not pretty. Not pretty at all.

How do you protect yourself from a crazed chile poblano? A knife? No. Not a knife. They laugh at knives...the poblano nation laughs at sharp objects.

A fork? Used with a knife, yes, that is the ticket.

Yes, a fork in the skilled hand of a Lunch in the Gump contributor is the only thing that can counter the terror of hearing the low moan of a crazed zombie poblano. Aim for the brain (what little there is of it). That is where the virus lives or, more accurately, festers. Try to ignore the tasty brown stuffing. Remember to Double Tap.

We've encountered them at La Zona Rosa and other "Mexican" restaurants. We have backed them down. But none of us have really met them in their element. We've never faced them when they have emerged from a tub of salsa during the night.

Be afraid. Be very afraid....

Shadow Pup with vanquished poblano. She's their nightmare on Boxwood.

The Nutty "Occupy 'Down the Street' Movement"

We are not "Down with the Struggle" against the Street

I don't get it. Despite its flaws, we have the greatest lunch system in the world based upon the free operation of self-interested appetites. Sure, not everyone gets a second helping of cornbread and some can afford truffles, but what is it about these ex-hippies and the "Occupy Gail's Down the Street" movement? What do they have against the meat and three system?

Did they hear Gail on the radio saying "Come see us in the curve on Zelda Road?" Was it the references to "...REAL mashed potatoes and every body's favorite dessert: banana puddin'!" Was it the fact that "Down the Street" is misleadingly on a "Road"? Are they pissed that Gail's Down the Street Cafe is not really a cafe. Is the "secret word" to get a free dessert: "Anarchy"?



Everyone should be glad they ended dancing at Down the Street....



Whatever the cause, the fruits and nuts are out to torment the establishment meat and three. Sure, Gail's does not serve great food, but Gail's does serve decent food only moderately overpriced. Gails "Grilled Grouper" certainly does not qualify as hoity-toity foodie cuisine. Yes, they used to have dancing "Down the Street" (and it was a sight to behold--see right) but now they have cut back--no alcohol or dinner--and despite obscene profits have reduced their offerings to a comparatively spartan lunch from 11 to 2 M-F and Sunday. Even the baroness of lunch in the Gump is putting the excesses of the collateralized dessert options behind her and, truth be told, never took a dime of city development funds or other TARP-Like handouts like some of the spots in the favored downtown Alley district.

No wonder the girlie/man on the left has to cover his face and; what's with the guy afraid of nets?



And what do these 'occupy"...'people'....want? The signs they sport are almost unintelligible. They appear to have been written by schizophrenics on half-doses of their medications. "Occupy Everything?" Really? Do they really want that? Why, if that is the case they are welcome to occupy my septic tank or my rolling "Folmar.*"

The lipstick on her stomach says: "Ban Meat from Down the Street!"

Or do they just want to draw attention to themselves for some reason? Here is a fine example of someone who may fit that description. She reminds me of Joni Mitchell on LSD during Woodstock. The drug must help her think she would attract "looks" and that she can be heard when her mouth is closed. Listen to what, exactly? Hey, I'm talking (but not listening or looking) at you?

So, they want to Occupy Gail's Down the Street? Have at it. Good luck getting in during 11 a.m. and 2 p.m. Monday through Friday and forget about it on Sunday. The "movement" will just have to be satisfied with singing Kumbaya in the parking lot at night and hope none of the former bar time "regulars" swerve in by force of habit for a nightcap. Bump. Bump. Whoops! Was that curb there the last time I was here?

Just don't let them make me eat what they eat.

*A "Folmar" is Gump-Speak for the rolling garbage containers provided by the city when Emory Folmar was mayor.

The Kat N Harri's Phenomenon and Connection to Cafe Thirty-A

I set out last Friday on a heading 180 degrees (due South) from the Gump traveling a secret shortcut (which involves passing through the Kinston) until the last road I crossed before splashing headlong into the Gulf of Mexico was the famous 30-A of South Walton County, Florida a/k/a SoWal. I admit, it was not the first time I had ventured to those little slices of beach heaven called Grayton, Blue Mountain, Watercolor, Seaside or Seagrove. Indeed, there is a strong connection between the Gump and the SoWal beaches that lie along 30-A exactly due South from Montgomery, Alabama.

Here's my proof:

Where is Kat N Harri's? If you know the answer to that question you are officially a Gumper. But think about it, is it listed in the phone book? No. Is there a sign anywhere showing its location. No. Is there any business in Montgomery by that name? No. Yet, Montgomerians still send out invitations to parties with the location stated to be Kat N Harri's and everyone knows what they mean. Why? Because 20 years ago (or so) there was a bar called Kat N Harri's in Old Cloverdale where all kinds of Brombergian escapades took place and marriages by the score destroyed. It was a happening place where mischief abounded. Now it is a overflow party room used by Jublilee Seafood's Bud Skinner but it is still called Kat N Harri's by Gumpers.

Who is the owner of Cafe Thirty-A in SoWal? Again, Gumpers can name her and know that she was a co-owner of Kat N Harri's. She is none other than the now famous Harriet Cromelin whose restaurant has been named one of the finest in Florida. It is one of my favorites also.  I never miss an opportunity to enjoy a martini there.  The wine list is also impressive.  The Wood Oven Roasted Grouper is to die for.

 

SoWal is almost overrun by Gumpers in season. Not only do many Gump Ex-Pats reside there for tax purposes (I hear there may be no income taxes in Florida) but many others have either owned homes there or regularly visited since they were tiny tots. The water is clearer and the beaches nicer than just about anywhere in the upper Gulf (sorry Orange Beach but it is true).

The view from a Watercolor suite.

One of the benefits of living in the Gump is its proximity to the Gulf, Atlanta, New Orleans, and Highlands, N.C. But for me, nothing much beats a meal at Cafe Thirty-A or sitting at Bud & Alley's in Seaside Saturday morning reading a good book (they have no televisions you know) and only having to raise a finger for the bar tender to know I desired another Bloody Mary. Yes, I have been there many times.  It feels like home to me.

And that also speaks volumes about the city we affectionately call "The Gump."

Just Say "Row"! LITG Member Hits The Big Time!

[Ed. Note: When one of our own makes it big, we have to brag....]

Squeak jokes around with a human actor on the set before the shoot.

(AP)-Los Angeles. A member of Montgomery's "Lunch in the Gump" gang has been featured on a nationally broadcast commercial for Geico Insurance that has surpassed the gecko and caveman commercials in popularity. The character known as "Squeak" to LITG followers, plays the part of a chubby coxswain on a skull propelled by a crew of guinea pigs to generate power. The extended commercial runs much longer than a normal 30 sec spot.

Squeak and the other members of the "crew" during a break.

Squeak is a member of the locally famous "Gump Guinea Pigs," a fearless and expendable group of taste testers with the speed and stomach linings of Russian Cossacks. They are used to try new and or exotic restaurants in Montgomery or to try menu items not normally associated with an established restaurant. But Squeak recently became bored with the lack of missions and took a vacation from the rat race, he said, which led him to Los Angeles and his discovery at a meat and three diner near Hollywood and Vine.


From Hollywood, Squeak said "I know the commercial sort of plays upon the stereotype of weak and stupid Southerners, but it is all in good fun to make a point about how you can save money with Geico." He assured this reporter that he not only already knew how to say "Row" he often writes his own posts on Lunch in the Gump, purportedly the world's most popular blog concerning a variety of subjects in Montgomery, Alabama. When asked if he understood how GIECO keeps rates down Squeak said, "Sure. They nickel and dime claimants."




Adoring fans, extras and expendables wait behind the barricade.


With the popularity of the commercial going off the charts, Squeak said he is getting a lot of fan mail from young guinea pigs seeking advice on how to make it in television. Squeak also said he was having quite a bit of fun in tinsel town when not doing appearances.


"The food here is okay. Sometimes pretty good," Squeak said. "But tell all my fans in the Gump that I really miss Chris' Hot Dog and Hamburger King right now."

Parts* if By Land, Nuggets by Sea: The Chicken Shack Keeps 'Em Guessing

Some of you may know that DNA testing of entrees in Mobile by a television station resulted in embarrassing some well-know seafood restaurants found to be serving "Grouper" that was not actually Grouper. You may have noticed since the DNA testing of fish became available to even teenagers, that something fishy has been going on with restaurant menus regarding references to specific species of fish. We Gump Guinea Pigs can confirm that references to specific species of fish are now gone from most menus (except our favorite Jubilee where they know the species because they purchase their fish whole and carve them into portions in-house). For example, the "Grouper Bites" at Sinclairs at Kowliga are now called "Kowliga Bites" described as "Fried White Fish." It seems that a Vietnamese fish called "Basa" is often mistaken or misrepresented as Tilapia or Grouper. Baumhower's restaurants tout "Caribbean Fish" on their menus. But, you probably knew all this.

What really makes this interesting is that on the way back from some Rest and Relaxation at the beach in South Walton County I passed what looked like a popular local joint in Luverne (on US 331) called "The Chicken Shack." When I entered and noticed the spartan decor, my Gump Guinea Pig training kicked in and I thought to myself, since everyone probably gets the chicken here perhaps I should go off the reservation and test them by ordering something other than fried chicken.

So, I perused the menu and guess what I saw?

Not Grouper Bites, not Basa Fingers, not Fish Nuggets. I saw listed under the $5 lunch specials for the day something I swear I have never, ever, seen on a menu before:

"Sea Nuggets."

I have the menu to prove it:




 Forget your first impulse that you can't order by the number when the selections are (A), (B) & (C).  Forget your second impulse to admire the logic of listing the "Sea" Nuggets as item "C."

Think of the concept of "Sea Nuggets." "SEA Nuggets."Sea nuhGETS."  Nuggets from the Sea....What kind of fish are they made from?  Then it hits you: The purveyors of this entree are not confident enough in the world of cheap DNA testing to even call these nuggets "fish."  All they are comfortable representing to their patrons is that these "nuggets" came from the sea as, I suppose, opposed to a lake, bay, lagoon, pond or drainage ditch. When you think about it, a lot of nugget shaped items can be found in the sea or washed up on the beach. The description "sea nuggets" leaves a large margin of error. After all, tar balls are nuggets from the sea. So are those pieces of crab you see washed up at high tide along with those squishy things that look like kelp pods.

What's next in a world of cheap DNA testing of entrees and restaurants afraid to identify even whether their meat is fish or fowl? Land Bites? Meat Nuggets? "Country Fried Fingers"? Just what would they consist of? Anything fried you could digest? There is a wide universe of potential components of digestible things that, for example, a guy like Tojo® would put in his mouth. I mean, are we digressing to menu items such as "Chewy Morsels" like they market dog treats that are not really meat at all?

Why not just "Mystery Meat"? Wait, darn. That implies it is really "meat."  Let's try: "Mystery Morsels." Yeah. That works. They could be anything that qualifies as a 'morsel.'

Anyway, the truth is that I passed on the "Sea Nuggets," because, after all, I was on vacation and out of my jurisdiction. The silver lining is that I learned what you probably already knew: The fried chicken (white meat) at a place called "The Chicken Shack" is going to be very good. I also enjoyed the three sides and 'nanner puddin'. They were all up to our generally high standards for a "meat and three" in the Gump. But the price, $5, was amazing considering the portions and a basket of pretty decent hush puppies. In other words, despite the distracting name of the one seafood (and I am only assuming it is seafood) entry on the menu, "The Chicken Shack" is, in my opinion as a fearless and expendable member of the Gump Guinea Pigs,a much better choice for lunch on the way to/from the Beach than the McDonald's "Chicken Nuggets" across the street.

And by the way, where do you find the nuggets on a chicken?

They must be next to the sea nuggets in the frozen foods section.

So, at the Chicken Shack, I recommend sticking with the land bird because that's an entree they are not afraid to designate by species.





(Urbanspoon does not recognize Luverne as a separate city from Troy)

®Tojo is a registered trademark of the American Federation of Fake Wrestling.

[*Ed. Note: This blog post was originally titled "Chick if by Land, Nuggets by Sea."  The name was changed to its current iteration upon the suggestion of a Doodah Man comment below.  Yes. We occasionally pay attention to our readers.]

Balls to the Wall: Gettin' my fru-fru on at Cool Beans

This sandwich is called a "Sophia Coppola"

I am female.

This is something that -- I hope -- is obvious to most people when they meet me. It has come to my attention, however, that the gender of your local, friendly LITG contributor is not always apparent by simply reading this blog. And there is a certain egalitarian beauty to that. You can judge me for my blog entries (few though they may be) rather than for what’s between my legs. Or what’s not between my legs, as the case may be.

For purposes of today’s LITG excursion, however, it is precisely this line of demarcation that seemed to govern many of those who were willing (or, rather, not willing) to join their LITG colleagues and eat lunch at Cool Beans.

That’s right, Cool Beans. It’s back open for lunch again. And it’s good, too.

But apparently “good” isn’t good enough; for when the suggestion of going to Cool Beans today made its way through the information superhighway, this is the type of response we got:

“Sorry no ‘fru-fru’ food and long wait for me!” or "They serve sissy food there. Turkey burgers and such. Heart-healthy shit. Sissies pay up for it. Me? I don't hold with it."

OK, first of all: Really? You’re willing to consort with mercenaries, go to a prison-like state building to get a hot meal, and eat poblanos with eyeballs, but you won’t venture five minutes down the road to a local restaurant to eat a sandwich?

Secondly, I have no idea what “fru-fru” means, or if that is even the proper way to spell it. But I have a feeling that “fru-fru” is somehow associated with being “girly.” And, as a wannabe comedian (who was male, by the way) once said to me, “Hey, I resemble that remark.”

Fru-fru is in no recognized or civilised dictionary I can find. I note it can be found in something dreadful called "The Urban Dictionary" where you can find all sorts of crass made-up words. There the "scholars" who post such drivel assert that "fru-fru" say it means: "Very decorated or girly in nature. Lacy or frilly." One wag says: "It is derived from a stupid misspelling and misinterpretation of a real word: 'froufrou' which means fancy trimmings." You don't say? I would say most Urban Dictionary words are based on some form of stupid misspelling or misinterpreation of real words but that is not the point.


The point is that here is what I can tell you about my visit to Cool Beans today. I was able to walk there, order food, eat, and return to the office in half an hour. They no longer wait tables for lunch, so I walked up to the counter immediately upon entering and placed my order. No queue. The food arrived at my table mere moments later. I had a chicken salad sandwich, which comes with a side of pasta and a salad. In other words, my plate consisted of chicken, bread, grapes, pasta, cheese, and lettuce. Unless men have stopped eating chicken and I didn’t get the memo, I’m pretty sure that what I was eating could have been consumed and equally enjoyed by any of my male counterparts.

And I think I have already proven that the “long wait” comment is completely unfounded.

Now, in the interest of full disclosure, I will digress back to the chicken salad sandwich order and admit that it is known as the “Grace Kelly” on the menu. In fact, all of the menu items are titled using the name of a former movie star, some male (e.g., John Houston) and some female (such as the aforementioned Grace Kelly). Is this “fru-fru”? I have no idea. Who cares, anyway? If it really bothers you that much, just say “I want the chicken salad.” Or the pastrami sandwich. Or whatever. You get the point.

So, there you go. If you are too scared to go to Cool Beans because someone said that it was “fru-fru,” I suggest you grow some balls and try it yourself. You just might like it. And I’m pretty sure the family jewels will not suddenly evaporate even if you have to place your order by stating the name of a former movie star.

But then again, don’t go. If the male population of downtown Montgomery garnered enough gumption to start going to Cool Beans for lunch, it might actually become crowded and busy. So forget everything I just said. Go eat your hot dogs and ribs so you can prematurely die of a heart attack, and leave the sandwiches to us women-folk.

El Rey Abides

These Dudes Abide.

Anyone who has seen the cult-classic: "The Big Lebowski" knows that it is at its core a formula detective whodunit except that the "detective" is a stoner. The "logic" flowing from a conversation between The Dude (Jeff Bridges), Donnie (Steve Buscemi) and Walter (John Goodman) is so spacey that the fact that vandals who by a case of mistaken identity break into the Dude's apartment and pee on the Dude's oriental rug "that tied the whole room together" becomes the responsibility of the other or "Big Lebowski" the vandals meant to terrorize. It is sort of like the logic which we often utilize on LITG to tie current events with restaurants.

So what do El Rey (the King of Burritos) and The Big Lebowski have in common? Here is what El Rey had to say about that:

"On the evening of September 15 the President of Mexico will begin Mexico's Independence Day with the ringing of bells and the Grito Mexicano.  Each year we celebrate by cooking our famous version of carnitas.

We've managed to get the Capri Theatre to participate in our celebration by showing The Big Lebowski. We are almost certain that Miguel Hidalgo y Costilla used the words "dude' and "abide" at least once in the Grito de Dolores."

I say: YAAAAHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE...... the.Dude abides! (And Mexico should be free from Spanish colonial rule...I guess). 

The 15th was a great night to stop by good ole El Rey, devour some carnitas and catch one of my favorite movies.  Carnitas consist of braised (as opposed to debased) pork and are eaten alone or they can be used to fill tacos or burritos. The pork is first simmered for a long time to make it really soft and then braised in the oven to make it crispy. The recipe is very simple and does not involve any chili sauces.  At El Rey they serve them by themselves.

Carnitas on the right.

Unfortunately, while a big fan of El Rey, the carnitas were not very hot (temperature-wise) and sort of bland.  Perhaps they are famous for other types of carnitas but the ones I had were not very noteworthy. Coupled with the fact that you have to buy the chips and salsa at El Rey, if it were not for the PBR tallboys, it might have been a downer meal not suitable for watching a classic Stoner movie immediately thereafter. But as the Dude would say: "Well, man, that's just your opinion, man."

PBR to the rescue!

Fortunately, after two tallboys the meal came together sort of like the rug in the Dude's apartment brought the whole room together. It was an appropriate prelude to one of the funniest movies that ever sprang from the loins of the Coen Brothers.  Seeing Lebowski on the big screen (completely uncensored) is a must for those who get it. Those that do not get the movie just will never understand it.  Sort of like Raising Arizona.  Either you thought it was hilarious when the wife tells the husband: "Ty, go back there and get me a toddler. The've got more than they can handle" or you don't. Which brings me back to El Rey.  Either you like the artsy-fartsy bohemian atmosphere and the food or you just don't. We at LITG like it, especially when seated in your bathrobe outside with a White Russian in fist. From such a perch the Old Cloverdale world jogs by at a snail's pace.  And as the warm glow of a Montgomery afternoon and alcohol washes over you, you can almost hear "The Stranger," in his cowboy twang say: "The Dude Abides? Why, we can all take comfort in that."



"...WTF?"



Man Bites Gump

A Lunch in the Gump Gump to Go in the Gump

It is not news when dog bites man, but how about when man bites a Gump? That is exactly what I did last week when Lunch in the Gump involved eating a Gump: A "Gump" sandwich from Midtown Pizza Kitchen that is. For those of you still skeptical or baffled by our use of the "Lunch in the Gump" moniker for this blog, know this: It has been called "The Gump" by kids in Montgomery for years.  One of the ironies of life in the Gump was nailed by a man from Wales who married a Prattville girl and moved to Montgomery.  He said: "I can tell whether someone is from Montgomery or not by the way they describe it.  Those that love Montgomery moved here from elsewhere.  Those that make excuses for Montgomery are from Montgomery.  I, for one, love it here."

Being from Montgomery I understand this well.  I also understand why we locals "affectionately" use the term "The Gump" to describe our hometown.  So once I learned that Midtown Pizza Kitchen in the Z-RED (Zelda Road Entertainment District) was serving lunch seven days a week I was intrigued to find the have a sandwich called "The Gump" and had to try it.

Glad I did. "The Gump" consists of sun-dried tomato and olive pesto, melted provolone cheese, ham, pepperoni, salami, and mortadella. It's a square sort of thing.  And heavy. Especially for only $7. The trendy kettle chips were a nice compliment to the sandwich which was difficult for one moderately hungry person to eat. But it was different and good. A refreshing break from the typical Chappy's sandwich tray selection of club, chicken salad, egg salad sandwiches and the like.

Actually, I am a little embarrassed to admit that I did not really know Midtown Pizza Kitchen was open for lunch seven days a week. And while I do not normally drink beer with my lunches more than once or twice a week, I noted they still serve PBR, the LITG beer of choice for those with discerning tastes.

Those of us who play down our pride in the recent growth in epicurean selection in the Gump when we bashfully acknowledge our roots to outsiders ought to eventually realize, as I have, that the Gump is really improving in many areas.  Midtown Pizza Kitchen is a part of that improvement. So, let's all be a little more positive and upbeat when we respond to the question: How do you like living in Montgomery?  When those who have lived here only a few years appear to love it more than we do, it seems a little dysfunctional.  It's sort of like a relationship you really enjoy but hide from your family or friends because you are afraid they may not like her as much as you do. I can assure you, most people who have moved to the Gump over the last 10 years like her plenty. So maybe we no longer need to be afraid to say: "I like the Gump!" 

Of course, if your peers look at you like you are crazy and that bothers you then you can always back peddle and explain you were talking about the sandwich at Midtown Pizza Kitchen.

And foreverafter be known as a wimp extraordinaire.

First Abita Beer Dinner at Roux Worth Going Toux.

[Ed. Note: Roux turned into True and now is A&P Social.]

The LITG Board of Directors was meeting in August to discuss the timing of our IPO when the Gumphone Rang with a tip from the French Consul General to the Gump--one Michelle Pompidou--explaining in broken English that there would be an event at Roux in September that he was inviting LITG to attend and review. We put him on the speaker as he struggled to describe something about what sounded like a "bear dinner" at Roux.  Of course, knowing the proclivities of Misseur Pompidou (the proud bastard son of a former president of France) he could easily have meant a "bare dinner" (au natural of course).  We certainly never expected him to mean a "beer dinner."

Anyway, I volunteered to accept the invitation with our Franco-friend which was set for September 7 at 7. I managed to scare up a date with an out-of-warranty (as NGNG would say) socialite and we arrived on time to discover we were about to attend what was billed as an "Abita Beer Dinner" a/k/a a "Food & Beer Shindig." You Southerners, like my Irish brethren, have a remarkable talent for inventing words or a turn of a phrase.  I had heard the word "shindig" before but, frankly, did not have clue as to what it was or how it applied to a beer dinner, whatever that was.  Was there to be a hoe-down?  Square dancing?  Yee-haws and the lot?  Fortunately not.

Indeed, what we experienced was in fact nothing short of a fabulous five-course meal that equaled any "wine dinner" I had attended but which utilized Abita beers from New Orleans as the common denominator.  At $40 per person the cost was also quite reasonable which allowed me to treat and impress the post-debutant socialite.  Not enough unfortunately.  But there always is next weekend. My host, M. Pompidou, arrived marinated in Bordeaux with a foxy date half his age and some cotton magnate and his new bride. Seeing Pompidou and his date reminded me of his friend DSK and that I should try very hard not to mention anything about that. Back to the review...

A group of about 30 diners were greeted by Abita representatives and Chef David Dickensauge all who hail from New Orleans.  I cannot even describe how Pompidou pronounced the chef's name, but it caused his date to giggle each time. In any event, Dickensauge and the representatives chatted up every table during the meal.  We were all impressed to know the Chef has been in the restaurant business since the age of 15 when someone at Commander's Palace apparently saw a spark in the waif from the local Boy's Club. In fact, he has worked at some of the best restaurants in the country, sometimes without pay.  Roux is his first attempt at running his own place. Given that his staff had to manage over 150 plates of food delivered to the entire group five different times speaks volumes for his management.


The first course was a seafood and andouille sausage gumbo made with Abita Restoration Pale Ale.  One of the Chef's secrets is that he always makes his gumbo with beer and chicory coffee. Although in the past the timing and temperature of some dishes were questioned, on this night the gumbo was the perfect temperature and delicious. If you did not know, the Restoration Ale was developed after Hurricane Katrina and a dollar was contributed to the recovery for each six pack sold.
  

 The second course was Abita Amber Beer battered scrimps with a Roux slaw and Bloody Mary cocktail sauce. The beer for each course was served just before the delivery of the food and the pairing of beer and food was phenomenal.

 
Chicken drunken by Jockamo I.P.A. comprised the third course.  It was accompanied with with buttermilk glazed carrots.  The term "I.P.A." refers to "India Pale Ale" which was invented to withstand the long travel from Brittain to the colonial troops in India. The secret is the addition of hops.

The fourth course was Purple Haze Braised Short Ribs with collard greens and pinto beans. We cut the meat with a fork.  It was outstanding.  As was the "purple" beer.

 
The dessert was an ice cream made from the foam of Abita Root Beer and cake topped with Turbo Dog Cookies.  By this time Michelle could only speak French.  I remember he was saying "manifique" a lot.

It was, for all concerned, a memorable evening and dinner all well below the Frazer Lanier line.  I am pleased to report that whenever you next hear of a second Beer Dinner at Roux you need to jump on it "Like a June Bug" as you Southerners are prone to say. While we did not have any "bear" nor did anyone get "bare" and it may not have been a "shindig," it was nevertheless a great experience and fine meal in the heart of the Gump. I hope they have many more.

Cheers!

[PS. Words in bold print can be found in our LITG Glossary]