Avoiding the Iron Bowl Harangue at Arirang...Almost

You just about cannot go anywhere in this here Gump without hearing expert analysis of the upcoming Iron Bowl.  I don't know about you, but I've about heard enough of "The team that establishes the run will win" or "If it's close in the fourth quarter it might go either way" or "Alabama's defense will stop Auburn's offense." So I started thinking--for me a dangerous task--where could I go to lunch and not be bothered by the mindless blathering cliches about the upcoming "Game of the Week, Month, Year or Century?" Heck, while I was writing this I got solicited for squares on an Iron Bowl game score grid!

Then I passed Korean food hub where one finds the best Korean grocery in the area and Arirang Korean BBQ which, like the Gangnam Grill, sits just across the by-pass within a scones throw of the Gump.  It hit me:  Do they also eat guinea pig?  No, seriously, the thought crossed my pea brain that there--in a Korean buffet restaurant--was a place where I might be able to enjoy some good bulgogi and for at least an hour avoid the clutter and chatter about armored SEC wankerball.

So I pulled into the parking lot and noticed that all the windows were covered with pictures of food and Korean (I presumed) writing. Unlike our friend Chairman Meow, who lived in Korea as a child (and wrote a great article in the Made Paper about Korean restaurants in the Gump you can read by clicking here), I had never been to a Korean BBQ buffet before.  I was a little apprehensive but went inside where the first sign I saw said: "Korean BBQ 11.99.  No BBQ 7.99."  While I tried to figure out what you got with "No BBQ" a very nice Asian lady asked me in English how many and lead me to a table with a hole in the middle--no not a hole.  It was actually a round convex metal grill with a temperature control.

"BBQ?" came the question.  Quickly I calculated the cost between no BBQ and BBQ to be about $4 and reasoned that something was better than nothing.  I answered in the affirmative.

"First time?" came the next question.  "Yes," I said honestly and nervously.

"I help. Go get some meat," she said as she turned on the grill in the middle and it began to glow red through the openings to the heat source below.

So I left the table and went to the buffet.  I started at the meat side (which I later saw was wrong).  I piled one plate with brisket, chicken, marinated beef and pork.  I then filled another plate for vegetables.  I returned for bowls of fruit and steamed rice.

Sitting down at my table I began to place the ingredients on the grill and started to cook.  My waitress noticed I have missed the sauces--duck, hot, brah and blah braa blah--and brought me four in plastic tubs and showed me how to dip the thin cooked slices with the onions/vegetables and then dip them together in one of the sauces before devouring them.  They were really delicious.  It was also fun to do your own cooking right there at your table.  I noticed the same silly dance song replayed over and over but it was a relief from the bombardment of Christmas music and football.

As I looked around I noticed I was the only non-Asian in the place.  Everyone was talking in a foreign language.  The table had signs posted in Korean and English that warned that they were not responsible if you stupidly failed to cook your own meat carefully and that you were free to take all you wanted from the buffet but if you left more than an ounce, you would be fined. The amount of the fine was not stated.  With regard to that admonition, the Korean underneath it must have said: "This does not apply to Koreans" because when the mother/son unit beside me left, their table remained piled with uneaten or cooked food.  I had watched them eat plates and plates of food before they left also so it wasn't left because it wasn't tasty. It was very tasty--especially with the sauces.

I went back to the well several times gradually getting more and more adventuresome.  Never could bring myself to try the "large intestines" but really enjoyed the kimchi.  Not sure if I was supposed to heat it up or not but it was good cold.

As I took a break from cooking I again noticed that, sure enough, everyone appeared to be Korean and they were all talking Korean.  I never heard the words Auburn or Alabama or Iron Bowl during the entire meal. I smiled and finished my meal.  Pricey at $14 with a soft drink, but a real change of pace and respite from the soon to be gorged upon Thanksgiving food and football hoopla.  That was until I whipped out my Auburn Spirit Card to pay the tab.  The hostess looked at the card, ran it through the machine and handed it back to me with the receipt and a wry smile.



"Auburn no win. No defense."

Chick Magnet with Real Girlfriend Rates Chicken Salad Chick/Five Guys

The love of my life...

My fictitious internet girlfriend, who has cancer, urged me to try a relatively new restaurant on Zelda Road. When you visit the bathrooms at Chicken Salad Chick you will either enter the "Chicks" or the "Chick Magnets" doors.  Limited to those two choices I fall squarely into the "Chick Magnet" category.   With "Chick Magnet" as my literal qualification, let me tell you about my recent visit to this new lunch place next to Five Guys Burgers and Fries in the Z-Red district. You could not find two lunch spots more diametrically opposed than these neighbors.

My first observation upon entering the Chick was "Trix are for Kids" or more accurately "Chicks is for Chicks."  In other words, I was badly outnumbered.  The few girly men I saw there were with anemic looking earthy girls who I guessed had already sworn off red meat and were considering going completely vegetarian. It reminded me of some jokes I had heard a stand up comedian do about guys who pretend to like vegetarian dishes when they date vegetarians but who--after bedding them--grab a Five Guys Double Cheeseburger with a bag-full of fries on the way home saying: "Man I am starved.  Mmmph. Mmmph. I can't believe she bought that sh*t!" The comedian goes on to say that he is reluctant to tell the joke to a large crowd because almost invariably one guy will drop his head in shame and his skinny date will angrily ask: "You told me someone else threw those greasy bags in your backseat!" before stomping off in a huff with higher life form vegetarian greenhouse gases in her wake. ("Why I'd bet there are fewer greenhouse gases coming from the back of an SUV than from the tailpipe of a hippie!")

Dearest Catfish.

My Internet girlfriend, my soul-mate, says she likes Catfish or that she is a Catfish.  Ha ha. She is so humorous.  She is the funniest girl I have never met.

A lunch for men with internet girlfriend soul mates...

My second observation was that the chicken salad was that finely ground up kind that I do not like that you can dip with an ice-cream scoop and plop on a slice of nondescript sourdough bread before squishing the mound flat by the top slice. I must confess I am a "chunky" chicken salad fan.  And the price was not cheap. With a glass of "Minute Maid" lemonade and a small pasta salad the tab came to $10.10.  The food was certainly good, the restaurant and servers were cute and clean.  But I have had much better "chicken" salad from Noni's when she was open near Shashy's. I have also enjoyed the turkey salad with large chunks that Allpots brought me from Bushwood CC one time when I was confined to quarters in my ankle bracelet.  So, unless you are dating a girl who really likes Chicken Salad Chick and don't mind leaving hungry, I would suggest you go next door for a burger and fries at Five Guys.

A manly burger for guys with real girlfriends!

We sort of reviewed Five Guys out at East Chase some time ago. For that post click here.  Normally we try to stay within the Gump and rate only non-chains. (Former cons don't like the word 'chains'). But in this case we have made two exceptions: Both Five Guys and Chicken Salad Chick are apparently chains.  But at least they are now squarely in the Gump and it's only a short drive from downtown to Ann Street/Zelda Road. And, I note, Chicken Salad Chick was founded in Opelika and apparently owned by proper Southerners.

Sackful of Five Guys fries needs its own chair.

So when the gang tried the new Five Guys on Zelda Road during the week between Christmas and New Years we learned several things:  First, do not order the regular fries for more than one person.  They fill the sack with enough fries to feed four fat people.  Second, get large numbers of ketchup cupettes filled and gather reams of napkins while you are waiting.  Third, avoid the free peanuts during your wait because you won't have any room left to eat your burger and fries if you do.

Preparing the landing zone for the big burgers...INCOMING!

I would point out that we did witness first hand a lower echelon miracle of sorts (would that be called a minicale?) Just before the Notre Dame blowout during our trip to Five Guys we noticed that in the short time it took to take the bag to our table that our bag filled with a burger and fries and already been soaked through with grease stains in the likeness of Alabama Coach Nick Saban.  We have the picture to prove it.  Of course, because of the terms of my parole I could not place an actual bet on the game, if I had a bookie I would have loaded up on Bama after seeing that greasy sack Saban face.  He was even in full blown "Saban Rage" mode.  Also, if I had known that Alabama quarterback A.J. McCarren had a carney-like tattoo on his chest the size of a basketball that would have sealed the deal because everyone knows that Catholics are deathly afraid of the carnies.

You can see the rage of St. Nick burning through the receipt

But back to the food.  The burgers are good but pricey. The coma that ensues upon eating at Five Guys means that it really is a place you should visit no more than once a month unless you are skipping meals before a visit.  Caution: Do not operate heavy machinery after a Five Guy's meal. This is definitely man vs. food.  Not chick v. snack.

Which brings us full circle and wraps this post up neatly.  There are two restaurants next to each other in Z-Red that could not be more different to a Chick magnet with a real girlfriend I have actually met...in person.

Barbecue in the Gump, barely

This little piggy has no pants on.
This little piggy has gas.

Being a Gump native, I am required by heritage and societal pressures to eat barbecue at least once a week. Today at lunch, my blue-eyed bride and I dined, again, at Varsity Barbecue, currently located in the parking lot of Burlington Coat Factory, across from Kripy Kreme, on the road that connects Mount Meigs, Alabama to Ann Street. Some call that road the Atlanta Highway, but the road existed before Atlanta did. At Varsity Barbecue, one can see the dreaded Boulevard, still east of your eating position, but just barely.

Varsity Barbecue may still be an unknown quantity to some. It exists in a building constructed to house Ruby Tuesday. Ruby pulled up her red dress and moved to East Chase, the hottest spot in West Shorter. The building underwent a long renovation, including installing a battle-hardened concrete drive-through lane. Suitable chimneys and cooking pits were created, and the place now meets Lewis Grizzard's minimal criteria for a barbecue joint: smoke coming from the roof. On a windy day like today, you can smell the smoke, inside and out, something treasured by Grizzard.

Another note: To the best of my knowledge, despite the name, this operation has nothing to do with The Varsity on North Avenue in downtown Atlanta. I don't know why the name was chosen here. Are there others elsewhere in the world?

Upon entering Varsity Barbecue, many newcomers are confused. There is no hostess or greeter or anything. There is just a stack of tri-fold menus on the dividing wall in front of you. Then, on your left, towards the back, you notice some green-and-orange neon signs that say "Order Here" with appropriate arrows. If you go sit down and wait for someone to take your order at your table, nothing will happen. Grab a tri-fold, and look it over while you wait in line (if there is one). The line (usually, at lunch) can be confusing in that it's one line for two, sometimes three, order-takers. Just stay in single file, and wait for an empty slot. If anyone behind you tries to start separate lines for each order-taker, they deserve the evil eye.

When you place your order, you will be given a plastic number to put on your table. Depending on what you order to drink, you will be given Coke products from their side of the counter, or, if you prefer water or iced tea, you will be given a styrofoam cup of ice and told "the tea is down there to your left". You pour your own tea from a bank of aluminum urns, each cleverly labeled with the usual choices. The tea is located in the aisle that goes to the swinging kitchen door, so beware of that, and errant busboys with full bus pans, immediately behind you. Bad design for the tea station, says I.

The fare is standard Gump barbecue joint food, including pulled pork, beef, or chicken barbecue, ribs, corn on the cob, coleslaw, french fries, baked beans, meat salads, etc. The sauce is your standard Alabama red ketchup-based sauce, and it's good. They have baked potatoes piled with barbecue and other things, in various combinations. One thing that separates this would-be chain (maybe) is the name of the stew. At Varsity, it's "brunswick stew". In real Gump-type places, that stuff is still referred to as "camp stew" (and only in The Gump. Why?).

The place has a comfortable decor consisting of wooden chairs and tables and padded booths. Some booths seat two, some seat four. In the row of two-seater booths, beware of the hanging lights over the tables. One side has lights hanging low enough to bother your skin. The other side of the aisle is more tolerable. When you finally sit down with your plastic number and styrofoam cup, and then look around, you will notice a sports motif. Plastered all over the walls above the wainscoting you will see pictures of most everyone who ever played or coached football for Auburn University or the University of Alabama. There are also smaller areas honoring Troy State and Alabama State. Many flat-screens hang from the ceiling, eternally tuned to ESPN or ESPN2.

The food at Varsity Barbecue is good. The service (bringing the tray that matches your plastic number) is sometimes slow and confused. If they get behind during lunch, you might notice your hunger building. My bride usually orders a baked potato with pork barbecue, with sauce on the side, no cheese, no chives. Today, she got the potato with the pork, but it was covered in too much sauce, and there was cheese in there somewhere, too. No chives, as ordered. The kitchen crew apparently misses some of the nuances of the order in the heat of the moment. In our case, the manager took our order, and when it came like it did, she just ate it anyway. I always get the bowl of brunswick stew. Our server had to go back for crackers and a spoon for me.

Overall, I would give Varsity Barbecue 2 pig squeals out of 4. It's easy, it's good barbecue, and it's reasonably priced. $17.99 for two drinks, one barbecue potato, one bowl of stew, and one fried apple pie for desert. We were full when we left, and I had seen more overhead than I wanted to see about Bret Favre. I'm not excited about the place, but I'll go back.

They have a website http://www.varsitybbq.com/  that's "under construction", as usual for places open less than a year.

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!