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.

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.

Eastbrook Cafe Raided by Riley's Stormtroopers

“They seized our pulleybones!”

The following is a true account of events that transpired last week. I was part of a three-man recon mission sent in by Lunch in the Gump to gather intelligence on a little-known Coliseum Boulevard eatery known as Eastbrook Café. A number of sources had told us the place serves up a solid meat & three at a decent price, offers catering, is well-maintained, has meeting facilities and provides a living for its owners and jobs for a small staff. In short, the American Dream.

This place wouldn’t ordinarily merit LITG interest, but a confidential informant had told us that Eastbrook Café is in a building once occupied by Pinson’s, the old-school fried chicken joint best known for its scruffy décor and great pulleybones. The deep-cover source hinted that Eastbrook had the top-secret Pinson’s formula and was, in fact, serving up the best pulleybones in the Gump, right under our noses.

The A-Team was sent in -- Chase N. Allpots, Esq. (MI-6, SAS, S.N.O.B.), Tojo Yamamoto (big fat Ninja), and me, Bidgood Bob (watched every episode of Charlie’s Angels, at least until Shelley Hack came on board). The mission? A quick in and out to get the down and dirty on these pulleybones. Or so we thought.

We followed normal LITG protocol for a stealth approach. Safely inside and presumably undetected, we found the pulleybones to be really good. We gave them a high yardbird rating of “FTOHJ-NTG-3” (fried to order, hot, juicy, not too greasy, 3 pieces). Allpots noted for Cornbread Carp’s benefit that the cornbread was warm, although not piping hot. The vegetables were nothing special but it’s February and we’re giving everybody a pass on their vegetables until at least late March. The chicken was damn good, the staff pleasant and it looked like we were going to get out of there for about 11 bucks a head, including tip.

We decided to gamble a little and use the “pulleybone method” to decide who was going to pick up the check. Mind you, on your Thanksgiving turkey this bone is called the “wishbone” and it is used like birthday candles -- for making wishes that never come true. But as anybody from down South knows, the wishbone’s chicken counterpart is known as a pulleybone and it is used as a fair way to decide outcomes, like odd-manning, rolling dice or cutting high card.

With a pulleybone, two combatants pull and the loser is the one with the short end. So anyway, I had a good pull against Allpots, who then pulled the long end against Tojo, leaving our king-sized Japanese friend holding the check.

All hell breaks loose

About this time the front door and the fire exit burst open and in poured about a hundred state troopers, guns drawn, telling us to back away from the pulleybones. Oh, there was plenty of media there, too. TV cameras and microphones everywhere. We were trapped and apparently caught red-handed, Allpots standing there with the long end and Tojo shamefully holding his pitiful little nub of a short end. Our extensive escape and evasion training was useless. Even I knew there was no way out, and I am one of the best dine-and-dash men ever.

Gov. Riley strolled in with his world-class pompadour haircut and his smirking henchman, John Tyson, just about the time the troopers marched the staff out of the kitchen at gunpoint, followed by some kind of CSI geek with a zip-loc full of chicken parts. Tyson checked the bag.

“Pulleybones, Guvnah,” Tyson said, “Must be more’n a dozen of ‘em. Fresh, too.”

Riley peered into the bag. “Well, well, well,” he said. “Looks like we got us some illegal gamblin’ chicken here.”

The Guv let Tyson do the honors. He walked over to the nice lady who owned the joint. “Ma’am, by the power vested in me by the Guvnah I am hereby seizing these illegal chicken parts and placing you under arrest.” A trooper slapped the cuffs on her.

Riley pointed at the distraught cooks and waitresses and said, “All of you ladies are out of work now. Go on home and starve to death, but don’t you dare become thieves or prostitutes to feed your babies, or I’ll be back for you!”

Allpots, who counts a law degree among his innumerable credentials, piped in, “See here, sir! I do believe you need a search warrant for these shenanigans.”

“Search warrant my butt,” replied Tyson, “Look at you, with the long end of a pulleybone right there in your hand, telling me about search warrants. Arrest this man!” he commanded.

Then Tyson made a grave error, kind of like poking a hornet’s nest with a stick to see what would happen. He pointed at Tojo, who was still holding the incriminating short end of the pulleybone and the lunch check. “Gambling with illegal pulleybones, huh? Arrest the Jap, too.”

Tojo’s eyes narrowed. He looked slowly to his left, then right, then in a single blinding motion, ripped off his “bidnessman” disguise, leaped into the air to kick off his shoes, landing barefoot in his signature red kimono and black judo britches. Before you could say “banzai,” Tojo slapped a double stomach claw on Tyson’s midsection. At once a hundred pistols were pointed at Tojo’s head while Tyson cried like Tim Tebow.

In the same instant, Allpots leapt behind the Gov and pressed the needle-sharp point of his pulleybone (the long end) against the poofy part of Riley’s hairdo. “Nobody move,” said Allpots, “or I muss the Pompadour.”

Tojo tightened his grasp on either side of Tyson’s ribcage. “Troopers drop weapons and leave, or else,” he said as Tyson whimpered.

“Or else what?” asked the head trooper, with a bag of excellent, nearly boneless white meat in one hand and a cocked .357 in the other.

“Or else Tojo make wish.”

The standoff was so Mexican you would have thought we were in El Cantaro fighting over the last green enchilada. Tojo squeezed Tyson. Riley said a prayer for the Pompadour. Allpots brandished the long end. The troopers held their ground.

Riley gave the order. “Shoot,” he said. “Take ‘em out!”

“No,” pleaded Tyson, “The Jap might make a wish!”

Nothing happened. Not a single trooper pulled the trigger.

“What are you waiting for?” screamed Riley.

The head trooper lowered his hand cannon and offered the bag of chicken parts back to the cook. “Guvnah,” he said, “If these boys can’t snap a pulleybone to decide who pays the lunch check, well, they’re just gonna play credit card roulette or go rock, paper, scissors for it. Killin’ these fellas and seizin’ these pulleybones ain’t gonna solve anything.” He turned to face the troopers. “Boys, let’s get out of here and leave these folks alone.”

The troopers began to file out. The owner was uncuffed. Allpots dropped the long end and gave the Guv a light skob on the knob. The Pompadour didn’t budge. It appeared the trouble was over and peace once again abided in the Gump.

Then all eyes turned to Tojo, who still had a firm grip under both sides of Tyson’s ribcage. Tojo looked confused for a moment, then a little grin appeared. Tojo flexed his arms apart just a little and we all heard the resounding crack of a busted rib. Tojo dropped a sobbing Tyson to the floor.

“Tojo wish for world peace,” he said.

In this photo, Guv Riley and Chief Pascagoula seal the deal that will send

Alabamians scurrying to Mississippi for their pulleybones

Originally Posted on http://www.lunchinthegump.com/

Martin's Wins Cornbread Poll. Red's Little Schoolhouse Expected to File Protest.

Montgomery, AL (AP) By the margin of a single vote, Montgomery's Martin's Restaurant has apparently edged Red's Little Schoolhouse in the first annual Lunch in the Gump Cornbread Classic. The LITG Secret Committee has yet to certify the results, however a spokesperson for Red's has already indicated that the results will be contested.

This one is not over by a long shot.

Unofficial vote counts showed Martin's with a one-vote lead. What do you think? Recount?

Carping the Center for Commerce Cafe

[Ed. Update: 12/12/2011: Today a re-visit resulted in a warm cornbread muffin that actually melted the butter gecko.  Big improvement.]

You may have noticed all the big new expensive-looking buildings in the Gump with green roofs. The green roofs are the trademark of an upscale cafeteria-styled restaurant chain by the name of "Bronner's" financed by the retirement accounts of all of our friendly "Stateys" (you know, people who work for the state). Recently, the LITG gang (Tojo, B-Diddy, Show Dog and Cornbread Carp) decided to visit the Bronner's at the Commerce Cafe which is located, naturally, at 401 Adams Avenue in the first floor of The Center For Commerce. The allure was the chance to lunch at the restaurant where the owner, David Bronner, eats his lunch every day he is in Montgomery surrounded by his adoring minions and amongst his cash-cow Stateys. We were indeed fortunate for as we grabbed our trays and utensils, there at his usual "reserved" table, sat Dr. Bronner himself pontificating about this and that while his loyal subjects nodded in agreement and tried to finish their lunches before Bronner walked away from the table.

When you eat among state royalty you expect a higher qualify of fare than the usual crap we normally eat back home at the trailer or at the typical Gump greasy spoon. B-Diddy, a huge fan of the place, was impressed. He ordered a hand-shaped burger from the guy at the grille who used to run "Choo-Choo's". He raved that is was one of the top burgers in the Gump and then, for good measure, dropped the name of former Alabama defensive back Jeff Tackle Block, one of the most fussy eaters in the Gump, as a person who "loves this place."

But, as we all know, there are two sides to every entree and story. My story is not so satisfying. You see I, unfortunately, made the mistake of going to the "meat and three" table and ordering the pork loin with cornbread dressing, turnips and a cornbread muffin. As my pen-name suggests, I have a thing for cornbread. I like it so much I can almost try to make it myself. When the otherwise tasty looking muffin was tonged onto my plate I had no idea of what I was about to encounter. I stopped by the center aisle and picked up two little plastic tubs of "Promise" which is some sort of fake butter so I could slather it in and over the pretty little muffin on my tray when I got to my table. It did not take me 20 seconds to pay and be seated. When I went to halve the muffin for the Promise slathering I was stunned to find that the muffin was not even room temperature. It was like it had been sitting outside on a 55 degree day (yes we have them here too). To prove my case I documented the whole event.

Exhibit One: Taken Seconds after the Slathering of Promise. Notice the gecko shaped daub of "butter" on the top of the muffin.
Now pay attention to the butter gecko in the following pictures (which also document the attack on a burger in the background by B-Diddy).

Exhibit two: Ten Minutes Later

Exhibit 3: Fifteen Minutes Later: Pork Loin and dressing gone.

Exhibit 4: Twenty Minutes Later: Turnips devoured.

Exhibit 5: The Year 2050

Notice anything? Does the "butter gecko" seem to move at all? Does it melt even a little? No it doesn't. It hangs in there like a hair on a biscuit. Actually it appears as frozen and cold as the muffin it sits atop. I am cursed to notice things like that. Now I am no expert on the ingredients of butter substitutes or margarine products (other than in one of my jobs I had to clean the lard trap at an oleo factory) but my experience has been that that crap melts even at room temperature and separates into oily yellow goo. In these pictures not only does the "butter" not melt, it becomes emboldened and takes a bite out of the muffin. I would wager that, if left undisturbed, this muffin and butter gecko would be found by archeologists 1000 years from now in the same pristine and inedible condition. As you can tell, it was not a good day for the cornbread carp. The pork loin wasn't very tasty either. My mother got better food at the hospital recently.

On the other hand, it was cheap. $6.05 for the whole meal (with water) so its got that going for it. However, inexpensive food does not make up for a cold muffin incapable of melting congealed oil to one who prizes a warm cornbread muffin soaked in real butter. So, despite the fact that I was eating in the presence of Dr. Bronner himself and in one of the green roofed palaces which house the "Bronner's" restaurants, I have to give this place a so-so ranking.

Microgump: Eating Cornbread at Martin's Restaurant

The LITE Menu (I'm not kidding)

Being new to the group I wondered why LITG had not yet rated the place consistently rated No. 1 in The Montgomery Advertiser's "Peoples' Choice" award for: (1) Fried Chicken; (2) "Southern Cooking" and (3) Iced tea. After all, the place has benches outside because it usually is pretty crowed with...I must say it...some of the fatest people on earth (especially if you go early to beat the crowd). If you ever recoiled at the damage Waffle House has done to American waistlines, just sit alone at Martins around 11:30 a.m. and watch the parade of obesity squeeze through the front doors for their fried chicken fix. Please do not eat there alone because, if you do, your mind eventually wanders into people watching mode which, at Martins, invariably leads to the sin of smug, condescending judgments about the size of the clientele (at least if you are only mildly overweight after a Thanksgiving of splurging). Many had a former professional wrestler gut like Tojo Yamamoto (I've only seen him once from distance and he was still large from a distance).  My mental victims, on the other hand, are probably thinking: "Why is that goofy guy wearing an ankle bracelet?" To which I say to myself: "NONE OF YOUR BEESWAX FATTY! And stop looking at my buttered muffins!"

One muffin missing. Two in mortal danger.

One thing I can say unequivocably about Martin's: They have some of the best cornbread I have eaten and they bring it to you like other restaurants bring your bread and water glass: quick. And it is right out of the pan, hot and ready to be swathered in fake butter from the ample supply of tins on the table. Three, count-em, three muffins per customer, one for each of the jelly rolls lopping over your belt. As a true cornbread lover, I must say the meal goes downhill after you gobble up your Martin's cornbread and drink the excellent iced tea (unsweetened of course because you are watching your girlish figure as you down the third muffin before the meal arrives).

As sort of a poor joke on the obese, there is a LITE menu which features only one huge fried chicken breast along with two sides and three cornbread muffins with unlimited margerine. Obviously, I chose the LITE meal because it sounded better for me. Here, I have to say, the Davis Cafe & Lounge kicks Martin's butt all over the plate. Unlike the succulence of the Davis Cafe bird, the Martin's fowl was a little dry and had almost no seasoning. I also noted more bones than normal chickens are supposed to have. Perhaps my skills at dismembering the breast with a fork are to blame, but I was constantly chomping on bones--which is rarely fun with regard to eating yardbird. If this were a competition, the score would be Martins 1, Davis 1 after the entre.

Since the prices (about $8.50) are comparable, the tiebreaker would have to be dessert. Here, Martin's has a decided edge. Their fried pies are delicious and homemade and guaranteed to blow any diet, real or imagined.

The winner by a muffin top: Martin's Restaurant, 1796 Carter Hill Road. They are open 11 a.m. to 3 p.m. M-F and for Sunday Brunch. They serve dinner and things other than chicken (like chicken livers). They have a high local rating because....its an icon!! It has been around since 1940 and the service is quick and friendly. I would give it a 3.5 of 5 hot corn muffins soaked in real butter.

"Luke...I sense a disturbance in the Force": The Hotel Talisi Burns

Today they could be excused for overcooking the chicken

After four days of an L-Tryptophan turkey coma, no LITG member was prepared to do anything but eat left-over turkey sandwhiches while they pondered "The Butterfly Effect," you know: that theory that says that if you bop a baby seal in the head with a stick in Canada it causes a Puffin in Ireland to fly into a boiling pot.

THIS CAUSES THIS:

Well, today we felt the unseen waves caused by a disruption in the Fried Chicken Force that surrounds the Gump when we learned of the tragic fire that has damaged an icon of buffet lunchage: The Hotel Talisi. Who among you--if you are a true MontGumphrian--has not heard of nor eaten fried chicken or banana pudding at the Hotel Talisi in Tallassee? Who among you has not marvelled at the tacky victorian furniture in the lobby (that probably served as kindling) or wondered what it would be like to actually stay there overnight? (Do you know anyone anyone who actually stayed there overnight?)

Well say what you wish about Man-Made Global Warming E-mail hoaxes or The Butterfly Effect, we Gumpers all sensed a disturbance in the Force today. And although it did not affect the Gump proper, we all felt a little lower than our overeating during the Holidays and extra poundage could explain. I, for one, believe it was at least partially due to the effect of the loss--hopefully temporary--of our compatriate luncheon spot to the Northeast. We all hope the grande dame of grease will rise from these ashes to once again serve some of the best Southern Cookin' in these parts. At least, hope springs eternal when lunch is involved.

Update: 12/21/09: It's Worse Than We Thought....

Was visiting the River Region north of the Gump Sunday and snapped this picture of the Hotel Talisi, or what's left of it.  A return doesn't look promising, especially in this financial climate.

Microgump: Capitol Inn Buffet Fizzles

The other Gumpers tried to tell me it would be a mistake. Whatever! I do what I want!

Unfortunately, this one time they were right.

There is nothing more annoying than writing a review of a place you used to like but you now have to rag on because things have fallen apart. Exhibit A: The formerly wonderful Capitol Inn buffet is now a terrible place to eat. The first clue was the fact that the doors were locked and the place was deserted. Last Thursday I practically had to force my way into the place with a crowbar, no kidding! Once inside I waited and waited for someone to ask me to sit and after a while I just gave up and sat myself. Then, as if things could get any worse, I walked up to the buffet line and saw that the bins were full of nothing but tepid water. There was no iced tea, no wonderful pork chops and no banana pudding. It was a total bust: service was non-existent and the food was non-existent. I could not even get anyone to take my money so I left without paying. At least parking was plentiful and the price was right. I paid what it was worth: Zip. Until things drastically change, I am simply not going back. I would rate the place as I found it last Thursday: .5 of 5 pork chops. They will never recover from this lambasting from Shadow Pup. Do not be surprised if they close for good. Sad end to a lunching tradition in the Gump. Sniff.

Microgump: Making a List and Checking it Twice at Isaiah's

[Ed. Note: We welcome the "Carp" to our fold with his first submission]

Although technically not a "Lunch in the Gump" target (since it is not open on Mondays), Isaiah's at 135 Mildred Street meets every other criteria as a locally-owned lunch spot that serves "comfort" food mostly to those in Gump Central. However, I will say that if you Google the place you will see numerous favorable reviews from travelers from all over the country such as this annoymous lady from the Land of Fruits and Nuts shown here with Isaiah himself.

She raved about the lemon crusted carp err catfish. She even took a picture of it:
Looks yummy.

(the fried corn is at the top and the poor little corn muffin to the left)



On Friday a quorum of LITG reviewers gathered for a microgump at Isaiah's at the suggestion of Mimi Furst. Present were: Tojo, Reginald, Docartie, Mimi, Shadow Pup, Pikedaddy and yours truly. After raising our 1/2 and 1/2 tea/lemonades to the memory of poor burked Binion, we reviewed our menu/check-lists and made our lists and checked them twice. Pens were thoughtfully provided. Cool thing about filling in your own order with the prices listed for each entry is that you cannot whine about it when you take your own list to the register to pay. (Of course, that would not stop the Shadow Pup from denying her own paw prints).

My only gripe was, of course, about the cornbread. The check-list menu clearly stated that my lemon baked chicken would come with one side and my requisite corn muffin. When the order arrived, dressing and gravy had been substituted. Granted, it was very good dressing and gravy but the omission of the muffin forced me to beg a muffin off the dentist who had just had his own teeth cleaned. By the time the begging had been sucessfully accomplished, the muffin was cold and lifeless and no butter was nearby. Thankfully, the chicken and gravy was fresh and good. Not so much the "fried corn."

I will add other comments from our staff of reviewers as they trickle in below. Suffice it to say that with a total charge of $9.13 with tax (or 5 shares of Synovus stock), its proximity to Gump Central, its friendly staff, and ONE HUNDRED HEALTH RATING, Isaiah's is a place worthy of being a regular on your lunch rotation.

Happy Thanksgiving to all our LITG followers!

Mimi: My comments are these:The lima beans are my favorite—they have a subtle lima and pork gravy that holds them all together and sticks them to the ribs, and in my case, probably the hips too. Collards are just right. I have had the sweet potato pie, and it is a slice of love. In the summer, the cream cheese pound cake with fresh strawberries is not to be missed. Enjoyed the talk of the shady developers busted projects, the booming downtown of trial lawyers and pub crawls. Swapping tips on the best way to avoid the new camera red light tickets and DUI’s (other than not running the light or driving sober of course). The Old Ship AME Church light-up sign across the street says “Faith is fragile—Handle with Prayer.” Love a place you can get lemonade and sweet tea mixed (an Arnold Palmer). Don’t forget the secret rooms and 100% health rating. [I didn't]

Dumped in the Gump: Binion Burked by The Beast

He's under there somewhere...

Former Casino Magnate Suffocated by Hamburger Steak Smothered in Onions

(From wire reports)

MONTGOMERY--Leonard Theodore "Ted" Binion was found dead today in his home after apparently being "burked" by a oversized hamburger steak from local restaurant Sundown East appropriately named "The Beast." According to unnamed sources, Binion, former proprietor of the Horseshoe Casino, was in the witness protection program after testifying against members of an alleged crime family before Congress in 1988. Court records reflect that Binion plead guilty to falsifying federal food inspection reports to cop a plea deal with the FDA prior to being granted witness protection. He lived in secrecy in several cities after finally being moved to Montgomery where, according to sources, he foolishly broke protocol and began blogging under his real last name about local lunch spots. Investigators are interviewing the owners of Wintzell's and Corsinos concerning allegations that they may have tipped off those in Las Vegas with an axe to grind against Binion's turkeyneck after not so complimentary reviews appeared on the blog. The owners of Sundown East, from which "The Beast" emanated, have confirmed that one of their waitresses did not report to work the day of the discovery of the body and that one fully-cooked hamburger steak was unaccounted for. The waitress had recently undergone breast augmentation surgery so her absence was not unexpected, the owners said.

The medical examiner for Montgomery County released a statement confirming that Binion was found on his back in his kitchen smothered by a 2+ pound hamburger steak itself smothered in onions and gravy. A Harley-Davidson t-shirt, un-naturually streatched across the chest, was found at the scene soaked in gravy. According to the county coroner, "burking" is an obscure method of gangland murder designed to leave little evidence of a crime. It essentially involves drugging an individual and then placing a heavy object on their chest causing suffocation. "The Beast," aided by gravity, supplied the downward pressure that resulted in in aspyixiation, the examiner said. Here, however, the hamburger steak apparently did not flea.
Rumor has it that Binion was burked to make room for new contributors to a local underground blog that has gone viral: lunchinthegump.blogspot.com. An official for Blogspot confirmed that the "Lunch in the Gump" blog had become popular and that Blogspot rules appeared to limit the number of contributors to 10. According to this spokesperson, the Lunch in the Gump blog was at its capacity at the time of the demise of "Binion." The capactiy has since been increased to 100 due to the popularity of this blog, the spokesperson said. Local law enforcement officials refuse to confrim or deny whether any of the blog's contributors were suspects. One, Tojo Yamamoto, is a former professional wrestler who performed many faked acts of violence and had a "patented wrestling move" that simulated "burking." Yamamoto also jibed with Binion on posts found on the blog. However, unnamed friends say Tojo is thought to be a gentle giant and student of Zen incapable of performing real acts of violence. Another, Shadow Pup, is alleged to be an unabashed right-wagger said to be involved with underground "rescue" missions against governmental animal shelters. Shadow Pup refused to speak with representatives of the media.

Another theory is that federal agents discovered Binion's blogging activities and wisked him out of the city before he could be located by those that would do him harm. Just how the FBI would have been able to fake Binion's death is not known. But, according to local funeral homes, the body was not processed locally although the hamburger steak was creamated.

Binion is the second Lunch in the Gump contributor to die in as many months. Doyle B. Cooper, the famous 1970s hijacker of a 727 jet who bailed out at 10,000 feet from the rear door and was thought to be dead, apparently had been living in Montgomery for years and died here in October after an encounter with a rogue hotdog. He had been known as "Doyle B" on the popular lunch review blog.

Posters on the blog expressed sadness for Binion's passing and suggested that memorials be made to Binion's presumed charity of choice: The Make a Wishbone Foundation.

Lunch in the Gump: The Farmer’s Market Cafe—Taxidermy and Jalapeno Corn Bread!!

You're not eating the venison are you?

With the choice for the spot of the week bearing down on all of us, Shadow Pup suggested a Montgomery standard. If you are still shaking off a hangover from a weekend of big football and you need a solid, no-frills workman’s lunch, you got to go with the Farmer’s Market Cafe. Shadow Pup and I arrived separately and in true community style, we were both offered seats by folks we knew and some we didn’t. Shadow Pup remarked “It’s sort of like the bar in Cheers, somebody knows your name so you never eat alone (even when you really want to).” Local celebrity sightings included Rep. Alvin Holmes “legisloitering” by the counter as per usual hoping some lobbyist would pick up his tab.

As our fellow Gumpers trickled in, each made the rounds in the dining room back slapping and hand grabbing until we all came to rest at a centrally located table, amidst lawyers, brick layers, law enforcement and secretaries. This proud cross section of the Gump’s best folks came together for a respectable assortment of baked chicken, veggies, slaw, cornbread and tea. Just the thing you need to ground you after a high flying weekend of fancy tailgate food and beer. The one that has no nickname especially liked the Jalapeno Corn Bread, which he says has the consistency of Twinkies. (Discerning palate indeed.) We all agree the fried okra is superb especially when combined with the smoky baked chicken.

As a bonus, you dine while being eyeballed by some pretty good taxidermy and photos of decades old football players like Buddy McClinton leaping, Charlie Trotman with a buster brown haircut, Zeke Smith with his Outland Trophy, and, of course, the Bear when he could personally kick ass.

As a side note, LITG determined that although LSU intercepted the ball, it would not have mattered, and that 50 year old refs don’t have 4.4 speed. SEC refs made for good lunch conversation among the Aubie/Bammers except for Tojo who doesn’t understand “armored wankerball”.



Tojo had just returned from a battle royal with the dentist’s drill and it was highly entertaining to watch him on Novocain try to chew his chicken and not his tongue. “Tojo have tongue for lunch. Unfortunately tongue belong to Tojo. Also have inside of cheek for dessert. Docartie very good to Tojo, only drill one bad spot. Feel like Tojo stick tongue in light socket.”

Frugal Gumpers also got drilled when ordering the traditional ice milk that used to be included in the price of a lunch, but now costs $.50. Leaving alone the ice milk brings the total to a workmanlike $9.00, and for the portions, it’s a sweet deal.

All in all we give it four out of five stuffed turkeys and a deer rack.

Farmers Market Cafe
315 N. McDonough Street
334.262.1970 or 262-9163
Fax 334.262.1970

Plenty of Free Parking or Take the Lunch Trolley Express
"FRIED GREEN TOMATOES EVERY DAY"

Lunch in the Gump: The Stockyard Cafe is a Smoking Establishment Dammit!

Webster’s defines ambiance as: the mood, character, quality, tone, atmosphere, etc., particularly of an environment or milieu: The restaurant had a delightful ambiance.

A hoity-toity, mamby-pamby restaurant reviewer might note sarcastically that nothing says ambiance like the lack of ventilation, boosted cafeteria trays from other eateries and misspelled handwritten signage. Such faux pauxs would result in an automatic one or two fork deduction. Not so fast my friend, for these very environs at Furnace Street’s finest -- The Stockyard Café -- only enhance the dining experience. However, the accent on the “e” in the word "cafe" is a little misplaced when used with the word "Stockyard". They don't put the little accent on the e on their homemade signage at the Stockyard Cafe.

But just imagine the games you could play on a return trip: Will I get a the Smoke House BBQ tray? I hope not a plain “lunchroom green one”, or dare I think … the coveted antique “Francis Cafeteria” tray? Oh my. But what are the LITGers really looking for? If it’s uniqueness, it’s here. If it’s a flair for the genteel, not so much. But I challenge you to find another establishment where everyone, regardless of gender, race, creed or nationality is greeted with “What would you like baby?” even when their first name is over their shirt pocket.

That's the Montgomery Serum Company across the street. Don't ask us what "serum" means.

Now getting there is also somewhat of a gamble. I can’t begin to explain how to do it so plug "1464 Furnace Street" into your GPS. Keep your doors locked, eyes forward and do not stop to ask for directions. Those of you dealing in “Bull Serum” know the Stockyard Café is right across the street from that establishment. The Café is open from 6 a.m. to 11 a.m. for breakfast (we hear the breakfast is really good) and from 11 a.m. to 2 p.m. for lunch M-F. Sorry, no dinner and no bar.

Yes, it is a smoking hot establishment. It is so hot it had to be on "Furnace Street" (thanks annoymous).

Back on point, the Stockyard experience begins with a simple statement posted on the door: “This is a smoking establishment” and while one would hope that describes the waitress staff, such is not the case. It is however, an accurate description of what emanates from the kitchen window and some patrons enjoying a non-filtered fine tobacco product. There ought to also be another sign on the door: “This is an NRA Establishment. Everyone is packing heat.” The place oozes grease and confidence like their patrons. They even give away raw onions and peppers to those who don't care how they smell from either end. Once inside, you must deal with the previously noted tray selection and a friendly toothless counter-gal asking “What’ll you have baby?” It is the luck of the draw and tray wagering will all but certainly take place on future visits.

Minding the store

This LITG venture was so well attended we needed two bodyguards watching the parking lot. And judging from the similarities of the selected dishes served on meat and vegetable segregated china, if the fried chicken was not up to established southern standards this was going to be a sad gastronomic experience for all. However, the Stockyard’s fried chicken is over the top. It truly conjures the thought of a LITG sponsored fry-off between this little-know institution and the fried chicken giant that is Martin’s Restaurant (see previous reviews). The vegetables? Fresh. Each selected the real mashed potatoes, some with gravy conveniently dipped from the adjacent chopped steak bin, some not, but all delicious. The field peas were divine and the squash casserole seemed to have come from grandma’s own hands. While the Stockyard does not offer an exhaustive bill of fare, what they do serve is fresh and fine. And you obviously do not have to know how to spell “bread” to rustle up some fine hot cornbread. Last but certainly not least, at the Stockyard you are given the option right up front for your beverage to be served in your very own go-cup. Plate clean and belly sated, for $8 all-in (i.e. including tax): 4 warm corn muffins.

Lunch in the Gump: The Immaculate Succulence: Davis Cafe Chicken and Cornbread

Deep in the bowels of north Montgumphery near Brendle Fire on "N" Decatur stands a entymological, epicurial and historical landmark: The Davis Cafe & Lounge. Entymological? Yes. It is the location of the first known usage of the word "succulent" to describe a non-plant i.e. fried chicken. It occurred in 1938 when founder Oscar Davis tried to suck the marrow out of the the hot, juicy chicken breasteses served with turnips, collards and hot cornbread. Prior to then, the word "succulent" was only used to describe certain watery plants. Oscar's mis-use of the word was adopted quickly and today, "juicy good" is the first idea that comes to mind when the word "succulent" is used. Check your dictionary and prior unsanctioned scouting review.

Epicurial? No doubt. Nothing from the kitchen of the Davis Cafe is from frozen source materials. Everything, and I do mean everything except the tubs of fake margerine, is hot, fresh and homemade. Which means you may have to wait a little bit to get your lunch while they actually fry it. The fried chicken may be the best in the Gump--Martin's notwithstanding. Now you have to overlook the less than optimal outside appearance of the place and, perhaps even the seedy interior environs. But if you get past the cover, the "book" can be judged by the content and taste of the authentic soul food the place is famous for. An added benefit is that the cost is very reasonable. You can eat a fine lunch at the Davis Cafe for under $8 (including tip). When you enter just find an open table, the handwritten menu and soon a friendly waitress will be by to take your order.

Historical? I would say so. Legend has it that Cleopatra was crowned as the first African Queen of Egypt by historians at the Davis Cafe. Also, we know that Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. ate there often and probably Rosa Parks had lunch there the day she refused to give up her seat and move to the back of the bus. The place ought to be on the Civil Rights tour. Any day you eat there you may see local judges like Johnny Hardwick or Charlie Price enjoying the homey feel of a place where everyone is welcome. So far, we know of no relation to Congressman Artur Davis but the jury is still out on that.

Bottom line: This place is a classic that is worth the effort to find and the courage to walk through the door of a place that doesn't need flashy signs or decour to attract a loyal following of repeat customers.

I would rate it very high for fried chicken and cornbread. Forget the margerine.

Binion.

Bandanas -- Western? Country? Only the cacti know for sure!

[Ed. Note Jan. 13, 2013: It should be noticed that in addition to the wonderful sprayed on artwork someone took a spray can and wrote "Closed" by the door.  Alas, we won't have Bandanas to kick around anymore.]

A scaled-down version of the Thursday LITG crew saddled up their horses and took a ride over to Bandanas on E. Jefferson Street, which is near....well, not near anything in particular, really. First and foremost, let's get the standard LITG criteria out of the way: Inside the bypass? Yes, sir. Meat and three? You betcha, although other items of fare are available, if you are so inclined. Non-chain? Without a doubt. The outside appearance of a place that you probably would not choose to enter unless having first been advised by a trusted (albeit anonymous) source -- aka, this blog -- that it is safe from the dangers of salmonella, swine flu, e coli, and other diseases brought in from those who have dared venture beyond the bypass? Well, you be the judge:




















That's not fancy wallpaper imported from Arizona folks, somebody put brush to palette and painted those cacti just for the viewing pleasure of us Gumpians! Walking past the larger-than-life cacti and into the restaurant gives one the feeling that he has stepped back into the days of the wild, wild west....or, at least, I am assuming that is what the interior decorator intended when choosing the bric-a-brac that adornes the walls -- which actually just looks like random stuff any Gumpian could pick up at Flea Market Montgomery (it is, after all, just like a mini-mall). Oh, and -- spoiler alert -- the "napkins" at the tables are, in fact, old, faded bandanas that have been probably washed more times than our former governor has wished that he had a soap-on-a-rope dealer on speed dial.


Get it? Bandanas!? If you are looking for clever people in this world, look no farther than your own backyard, my fellow Gumpians!


So, I guess at some point you are expecting to read about the food and service, and now is as good a time as any. I considered the service to be above average. We were immediately greeted when we walked in the door, taken straight to our table, with menus and silverware (and bandanas, of course) provided, and were able to put in our tea orders (both of the sweet and non-sweet variety) before even sitting down. It did take several minutes for our waiter to get to us, but this was more than made up to us by the fact that the food arrived faster than you can change a horseshoe. The server was friendly and sufficiently attentive (but not in a creepy-please-stop-invading-my-personal-space way). My tea glass was never less than half-full (half-empty?). A definite LITG plus.



Like most meat-and-three joints, B's has a rotating menu, with about three "meats" available and a large variety of "veggies" (yes, in Gumptown, mac and cheese is considered a vegetable) that differ each day. Today's "meats" were beef tips over rice, turkey breast, and fried talapia. The veggies were too many to list here, but they did include interesting descriptions such as "hillbilly slaw" and "broccoli salad." I stuck with the beef tips over rice, lima beans, and "sweet potato soufle." The food was average; nothing to sit around the campfire and write home about but decent enough that I wasn't retreating to a corner thinking I would die a slow, gastronomical death upon my return to the office. Five hours after the meal and I am sensing no ill-effects, so put that in your peace-pipe and smoke it, red-man!

The one complaint made collectively by the group was the cornbread. Cornbread should be served warm. I don't make the rules; that's just the way it is. When I put knife to cornbread, that artifical butter needs to melt! Alas, such was not the case at B's. Eventually, we had to ask that warm cornbread be served, and the server willingly obliged. The substitute, however, was not much better than the original.

On the upside, we were in and out faster than Usain Bolt can eat his yams. We ponied up our ducats ($10.80 per person, including tip) and went about our rootin' tootin' way.

And here's an insider tip, for those of you who have made it through this exceptionally lengthy LITG diatribe: Pick up a "frequent diner" card. You'll get a stamp for every meal (limit one per day per customer). Once you collect 12 stamps,you get a free meal. I got one of these cards four years ago and am now up to 7 stamps. I figure in 2013 I'll be able to save myself 10 bucks (assuming that our entire economic system as we know it has not collapsed)!

But for the cornbread, Bandana's would have received higher marks. I give it 3.5 cacti (that's two cacti, and then a third with sunglasses and a bandana draped around it).

Belated Peyton's Place Post

I forgot to post on Peyton's Place (next to Probate Court on Atlanta Highway) after a midday excursion last week. I guess I forgot because the food was forgettable. Starting with location...cautiously avoid the disgruntled Gumpians trying to get their driver's licenses renewed at the probate court on your way in. I reluctantly ordered the chicken supreme because it seemed to be the lesser of 4 evils. Like many other "meat and 3s" Peyton's rotates the "meats" throughout the week. However, many of the other like-minded establishments serve their "go to" (i.e. martin's fried chicken) as an option on everyday of the week...Peyton's place...not so much. The vegetables were average and cornbread was dry. The best part of the trip was that we were in and out in 30 minutes, giving us plenty of time to tour some rental property in Boylston. Prices were comparable to Derk's. At the same price point, Derk's over Peyton's is a no brainer. With Derks you are comfortably inside the bypass, while Peyton's Place is uncomfortably close to the Line of Demarcation (the bypass). 2 1/2 chicken supremes.

Scouting: Davis Cafe

Gumpers:

We gotta go rate this place! Kicks Martin's a** on chicken. 515 No. Decatur. Been around forever. True "soul food"--at least it says so behind the cash register. Me and parole officer ate for under $9 per w/tea!

I don't know what "Dept. o1" is but everything I got came from there!

Capitol Grill - Counterpoint

[CLOSED]

Yeah, the food was average and so was everybody else in the restaurant. I didn't see a fatcat or a peacock in the whole joint. Most people there knew other folks there. The WSFA noon report was on, but nobody was paying any attention. Background music was a local radio station. Duct tape was holding a lot of the place together. Folks from all walks of life were there at the Capitol Grill, getting along. The waitresses did a great job. The price was right. For 45 minutes I patronized a family-owned business, did a little political schmoozing, heard some gross conversation, brainstormed an intriguing business idea and yes, I had some bland food. All-in-all a damn fine lunch I'd say.

The "Beast" at Sundown East

Not actual size

Once you get past being greeted by a hostess picking her teeth, the double-wide decor and the double-wides stuffed in the "Harley-Davidson" wife-beater t-shirt donned by your waitress, the LITG Gang consensus is that the Sundown East in the Forest Hills Shopping Center provides one of the best lunches for the money in the Gump especially if you order "The Beast".

The Tower of Terror

"The Beast" is the 1/2 pound hamburger steak smothered in gravy and onions that--with "The Works" (Swiss cheese and something else fattening)--can satisfy the most ravenous post-Aquapalooza hunger pangs. Substituting a salad (lettuce, onions and tomatoes only) for the fries you almost touch all the four food groups: (1) ground meat; (2) green stuff; (3) bread; and (4) gravy.

It should be noted that Henry Gates, Jr. (the Harvard Professor recently falsely accused of disorderly conduct because he yelled that he would "Do Yo Momma" to a Cambridge Cop) might not feel as welcome here as the Irish Catholic members of LITG, but if you like the infield at Talladega, you should fit right in.

I would rate the food at 3 toothpicks.

Value-wise, this is a real find: Only about 20 shares of GM (Motors Liquidation Company) (which is less than $10 bucks) will get you The Beast with The Works and a glass of tea.

Parking is easy and service is fast. Door to door from downtown in one hour or less.