It's Who We Are: PBR at the Capitol Oyster Bar

The Capitol Oyster Bar oozes Gumpness like an open sore. It is located at 115 East South Boulevard in the first Pizza Hut building built in the Gump in the 60s when Normandale Shopping City and Cloverland were thriving shopping centers and the now-defunct Montgomery Mall was not even a gleam in a Jim Wilson's eye.

Then and now...the red roof is the dead giveaway.

But, as long-time Gumpers know all too well, the COB area of the Southern Gumpass has deteriorated such that most original buildings are--like the KFC/Snuffy Smith's/Bonanza Steak House--now the home of seedy bars filled with sketchy residents of nearby nameless motels run by Patels. Regardless of the outward appearance of the area and the buildings, the COB has stubbornly refused the clamor to "move East" and has stood its ground like a hair on a biscuit as a haven for beer drinking, oyster shucking, crayfish sucking good ole boys and girls of all persuasions.

Good ole' Bammers and their Aubie ladies....

Long known as a good place for a seafood lunch, it was Tayteese herself who somehow suggested that we try COB for dinner Friday night. What caused that idea to pop into her pretty head is probably a whole 'nuther story, but since I could not remember EVER eating there for dinner I was tentatively game for a "new" experience and a break from the expense of going to Jubilee Seafood.

The first thing we noticed when we arrived around 8ish was the large numbers of cars in the lot and the relatively small size of the Pizza Hut building we were about to enter. Seems, however, they have built a tent on one side of the place where they can handle "events" like the Maxwell Country Club members who were apparently having a shindig that evening.

The second thing I noticed was that the crowd had the same demographics as the city and they were eating and drinking in harmony like we all know is a lot more common in the Gump than Yankees seem to think.

But the most important thing I learned when I sat down was that they proudly serve my favorite and the wrongfully maligned Pabst Blue Ribbon beer.

Why, I will have another....

Once the best-selling brew in the USA, it permanently lost market-share when they screwed with the formula to save money. Now they brew it the old way and still people think it is a "cheap" beer. Well, it is inexpensive but it is not cheap and it goes very well with fried seafood. And fried seafood is what they do best at the Capitol Oyster Bar.

Our guests ordered raw oysters (one half from Apalachicola and one half from Mississippi) and an order of Oyster Rockefeller. Yours truly has had issues with oysters in the past and will not touch the raw ones, but the Oyster Rockefeller was delicious. I stayed with the seafood gumbo which, unfortunately, was not hot and contained more sausage than seafood. However, even luke warm it was flavorful and spicy.

I ordered the special Yellowfin Tuna medium rare. After what seemed like a long wait, Tayteese and I received our orders before our guests. They begged us to eat and I am glad we did because their orders came out a full 15 minutes later and long after ours dishes would have been stone colder than Steve Austin. My tuna was a little overcooked but still very good. I was told to send it back by my salivating and impatient guests but unless it makes me gag, I will eat it.


Now what I thought would make me gag was frog legs. Seated next to us was the chef Coratio formerly of Bama Bistro fame who had ordered fried frog legs. After Coratio offered a leg my guest--who had still not received his entree--shamed me into trying a bite. Well, despite my reservations about eating amphibians, I must say it was good. Not a lot of meat (if frog is a meat) but certainly not bad at all.


Like any working man restaurant, you should not expect linen napkins or your sour cream to come in one of those spinning servers with bacon bits and chopped onions. In fact, the sour cream comes in a squeeze-out like toothpaste pack and the butter comes in plastic tins you have to peel open. Unfortunately, by the time I got the butter thingy's open the bread was not warm enough to melt the butter. Another cold PBR distracted me from that minor problem.

PBR heals all....

The crowd was lively and the place was loud. The waiter was pleasant and apologized for the delays. The booth next to us was jammed full of a six overweight lady's who raised some sand about how many "Appletinis" they ordered and the waitress pushed back a little so it was tense for a second or two. The waitress was, presumably, less intoxicated than the patrons and her version of the number of drinks was documented so I found her version more credible. Nevertheless, the waitress in the Aubie hat huddled with the manager and reluctantly wrote off one drink while informing the table that she was still right. This appeared to offend one of the ladies. I noticed after they departed in a huff that one of them had apparently spitefully snacked on the fin of the sail fish above their booth. It was also probably a little tough.

Note the damaged bottom tail fin above the telltale straw. Incidentally it does look like at least 4 Appletinis to me.

The prices were very reasonable for dinner: Cup of Gumbo: $4.50; Catch of Day Tuna: $18.00. Certainly less than Jubilee but just as certainly not as good. But despite was may appear as a spotty dining performance, I can recommend the place without hesitation as a fun place to eat with your fellow Gumpers. The place has a local feel and attitude unlike any other seafood restaurant in a Pizza Hut building I have ever patronized. Nothing captures this 'tude like the bumper stickers over their kitchen door:

The true essence of the place really is that it is primarily a "bar" where people go to eat seafood with their alcohol. One of the stickers says it all:

The closest thing the COB patrons have to "meetings" is when they gather at their favorite Montgumphery seafood restaurant amongst like-minded friends. I would recommend you give it a try to see if you feel as comfortable there as did we. It is certainly worth a look.

Tokyo, meet Tojo

Warning: this is a sad story

[Ed. Note: It is sadder that we thought. Tokyo is now kaput. The All-City Coney Island Eatery now occupies the space. See recent review]

Tuesday brought freezing weather, along with the first day of the 2010 legislative session. Great. Dragging into the office late, lamenting the invasion of Montgomery by blowhards with bad haircuts and gum-smacking mistresses, I wondered where a taxpayer could get a quick lunch without encountering polyester suits, pompadours or comb-overs.

With nothing to look forward to but months of demagoguery and liquor shortages, I despaired. It’s too cold to play golf, and the most popular pastime this time of year -- holding on to your wallet -- isn’t that much fun. When the Legislature's in session, lobbyists have the good tables and you can’t find an empty barstool anywhere.

I was about to drive through Burger King when the inbox lit up with a message from Tojo Yamamoto. The e-mail from my old friend was a classic example of Tojo’s elegant economy of words: “Tojo hungry.”

A call-out from Tojo always elicits a number of lunch suggestions but Gumper BoDiddly made the call. Remembering Tojo’s embarrassment over the ill-conceived Ndamukong Suh Hunger Strike, Mr. Diddly suggested a never-been-gumped target: "Tokyo" -- apparently the Gump’s only non-chain Japanese restaurant inside the Bypass.

Tojo, who was downtown teaching self-defense and anti-groping techniques to female state employees (no-bid contract), was absolutely giddy at the prospect of dining at an "authentic" Japanese eatery. Tojo responded that while he had never tried Tokyo, he was honored that we chose a Japanese establishment for lunch. He gave BoDiddly the ultimate seal of approval, e-mailing us with a gushing “Tojo like.” It was on.

What we wanted!

BoDiddly, Cornbread Carp, Clemenza, Shadow Pup and I arrived first and were waiting outside Tokyo when our big tomodachi* rolled up in his pimped-out Mitsubishi Galant. Imagine our shock when Tojo bounced out of his ride in the signature silk robe, as always, but WEARING SHOES. We had never seen such… Tojo in footwear! But as reported, it was colder than Nick Saban’s blood that day.

Sadly, this is where it started to unravel for poor Tojo. First of all, Tojo told us to follow his lead, as if to show us, hey, this is how we roll in the Land of the Rising Sun and I don't want you guys to look like a bunch of rubes. “Shoes off,” he said.

We went in shoeless only to find a shabby-looking, fluorescent-lit lunch counter with three or four overweight patrons guarding their food like they were Poindexters and we were trying to copy their pop quizzes. Worst of all was a sign that said NO SHOES, NO SHIRT, NO SERVICE. Words can’t describe the stricken look on Tojo’s face as he stood there holding his shoes (the excellent kimono, while very cool, is not exactly a shirt, either). “Tojo confused,” he said.

Tojo approached the lady behind the counter. They bowed and had a short conversation in Japanese. We waited in our socks, the fat stateys giving us the apprehensive once-over, apparently afraid we were there to seize their egg rolls. Tojo bowed again and turned to face us. “Shoes on,” he said, then paused and dropped his eyes before adding, “Shadow Pup not welcome.”

As LITG followers are aware, there is a particular bond between Tojo and Shadow Pup. You may recall that Shadow Pup’s keen senses of smell and genealogy once saved Tojo and the Gumpers from potential disaster at Choices Chinese on Commerce Street (Shadow Pup smelled a distant cousin in the walk-in cooler and led the group safely out of danger to a fantastic lunch at Cool Beans).

Imagine the awkwardness of the situation -- LITG’s A-Team barefoot in the cold at an ersatz Japanese restaurant, being told that our Lead Dog has to leave, while a 340-pound ex-professional wrestler best known for the dreaded “Stomach Claw” tries coming to grips with the dishonor of it all.

It got worse. At about this time the cook, a good-sized fellow as fidgety as that Asian guy in The Hangover, emerged from the kitchen with a meat cleaver to enforce the bullshit shoes/shirts/dogs provisions of the Tokyo policy manual. Tojo’s eyes narrowed as he shifted the center of his massive gravity to the balls of his feet, bent his knees slightly and sized up the cook. This thing was about to blow.

Luckily Shadow Pup saved the day once again, agreeing to wait in the car if we promised to take him to Hamburger King afterwards (I don’t think the Pup was comfortable at Tokyo in the first place, especially the way the cleaver guy kept eyeballing him).

Well anyway, mayhem averted, we put our shoes back on and everybody ordered the “special of the day,” which was a moderately tasty and inexpensive beef/chicken/shrimp concoction you've had a thousand times. It was heaped atop enough rice to give an Atkins dieter a starch seizure. “Hmph. Taste like Chinese. Pass soy sauce,” said Tojo.

What we got.

(you can almost see the MSG)

After lunch, Tojo bowed to the counter lady, glared at the cleaver-wielding, lucky-to-be-alive cook and left the building. Outside, he paused at Clemenza’s limo, where Shadow Pup was laid up in the back seat watching a DVD of Turner & Hooch. The bulletproof tinted glass slid down and we watched as Tojo gave Shadow Pup a scratch behind the ear, right where he likes it. They exchanged a few words then Tojo shuffled off to the Galant and drove away.


Editor’s notes:

Location: If you still want to know, “Tokyo” is located at 701 Madison Avenue at the intersection of Madison and Union, next to some tire place.

Food: If you want a couple pounds of middle-of-the-road Chinese at a fair price, this is your spot. Tokyo also scores a perfect "10" if you HATE THE EARTH. Every single container and utensil (eat-in or take-out) is made of styrofoam or plastic. Yep, and the shitty mass-produced duck sauce is in those shitty little plastic packets, too.

Note to Legislators: There is parking in back, which is good if you don’t want anybody to know you’re inside signing a pact with the devil or trying to get your girlfriend out of the Frederick's of Hollywood gear you bought her during the last special session.

Also: It must be noted that of the other Japanese places in town, one is a chain hibachi joint and the others are outside the Bypass. Although LITG does make occasional forays to the periphery, Tojo has never imposed his considerable will to steer the group to any of these establishments. He is a gentle giant, Tojo.

* Tomodachi = good friend. I think. Hope it’s not something that pisses Tojo off.

Cujo's Lunch Express is Bloody Good

The Cuco (or Coco; Coca; Cuca; Cucuy) is a mythical ghost-monster; equivalent to the boogeyman, found in many Hispanic and Lusophone countries. He can also be considered a Hispanic version of a bugbear,^[1] as it is a commonly used figure of speech representing an irrational or exaggerated fear. The coco is a male being while coca, or cuca are the female versions of the mythical monster although it is not possible to distinguish one from the other as both are the representation of the same being. That is why I refer to Cuco's in Montgomery as Cujo's in honor of the movie of the same name. [Click on the Cuco's in Montgomery link to hear their snappy theme music!]

Located securely within the confines of "Downtown Mont[Gump]ery" at 31 South Court Street, "Cuco's Express" is, in fact, an example of a bugabear that will not die. While other places wilted and failed when the Court Street fountain area was some diabolical evil urban planner's experiment in downtown mall living, poor Cuco's was a restaurant without parking that survived and now thrives on the north end of the fountain "round-a-bout" [which non-Bermudian Gumpers still do not understand how to navigate] with some pretty darn good Portugese/Mexican lunch selections.

Today, I snuck away from my parole officer to sample the "Sour Cream Chicken Enchilada" off the Express Lunch Combo Menu served with a soft drink (with free refills) and complimentary chips and salsa for the grand total of $5.49 plus tax. The chips were not only paper thin and hot, but they asked me if I had lost weight. Very complimentary I must say. Cuco's promises that if not delivered in 15 min., the whole sheebang is on the house. Fortunately, they brought the feast out in record time and I returned to my work-release station before anyone missed me.

I was very impressed. They also have just opened an evening restaurant in West Shorter at 11123 Chantilly Parkway which would be an option when I am released from parole (assuming no schools are within 300 yards). I even think the place actually qualifies as a local eatery. Bottom line, I think this place is at least three chips of a salsa and worth a lunch visit whenever you are gracing the Gump.

There Are Two Sides to Every Entree

Saw this in Memphis Airport recently. Quite pricey. But the little guy at the bottom intrigued me. Perhaps a canditate for our first logo? Very Mose-Tish. Surprised, small mouth and whiskers.

Now I totally digress: This was my also expression when Bama tried the fake field goal in the first quarter.  Nevertheless: congratulations to the Crimson Tide!

Michael's Table: Blows Your Socks Straight Off

I know that, not being [CENSORED], I cannot appreciate the full ambiance of Michael's Table at 2960-A Zelda Place. Nevertheless, once we [CENSORED] people get acclimated to the jazz/ambiance of the other side and focus on the cuisine, all foodies go to heaven at Michael's Table (even if you don't do Facebook). I mean tonight the house special was knock your socks off outstanding: bow-tie pasta, feta cheese, garlic, shrooms and scrimps. Rarely do I follow the advice I have been given to taste a meal before adding salt or pepper. But tonight I was glad I did. The meal did not need to be touched with anything but a fork. The Pietra Santa cab at $28 a bottle was a bargain at half the price and a good match with the Spaghetti and Meatballs ordered by Toadpot the Foodie and the leafy health food ordered by Tayteese Who Must Be Obeyed. Of course, the health food nuts ordered the Chocolate Martini and Bailey's Martinis for dessert a/k/a "Sins" at Michael's Table, while, yours truly, stuck with the ice cream and pecan pie in a bowl. Mmmm Tasty!!

Now Toadie and Tayteese are not easily impressed.  They rated their meals at 3.5 of 5.  Good but not great.  But I your redoubtable Shadow Pup unhesitatingly recommend this restaurant as a 4-paw showplace.  Pricey, yes (dinner for three with bottle of wine and deserts all around was $141 plus tip).  But dag-gum it, I liked it and it was my credit card charged with the bill.

Given it is located in almost the geographic center of the Gump, and is open for lunch Wednesday through Friday, I have to give this place a shout-out and a potential Lunch in Gump target eatery.