I am an ambassador of food
June 18, 2009
Abuelo’s [website] | the “Juarez” combo
“Hola” to my Mexicano peeps out there. What’s up, essays?
Close your gaping yappers. Before the intolerance police send me off to sensitivity camp, I should explain that I’m no “racialist.” I’m half Mexican. (The left half.) I can say these things and get away with it. Being half Mexican and half plain white has other advantages, too. I can enjoy a lot of spicy, traditional Mexican foods AND I can stomach frog legs. My body can’t resist moving to a good latin beat AND I’m a badminton pro. I’m kick-ass at mowing lawns (seriously) AND I don’t get the appeal of Carlos Mencia.
So, we cool now, gringos? Bueno! On to the review…
First off, as a friend pointed out, Abuelo’s is no regular Mexican restaurant. It is a Mexican food embassy. And I felt like an ambassador from the moment I walked in–ridiculously tall ceilings, towering pillars, and artificial sunlight all made me feel like I had (legally) crossed the border. Oh, yeah. Mooey bueno! I’m seeking food asylum, expatriating from Blandsillvania, and immigrating (legally) to the People’s Republic of Mexican Food-topia. Bring this refugee some queso, señor. On da lay! Bueno!
Messy, runny, cheesy, artsy goodness.
Since it was my first time in this country, I had to get a sampler, the “Juarez,” which featured a crispy beef taco, tamale, chicken enchilada, cheese enchilada, beans, and cheesy potatoes.
Being half Mexican, I can half tell you how to gauge how awesome your mexican food really is. Foremost let’s clear up one myth about “my people” and “our food.” Misconceptions are not bueno.
Most folks think that you can judge good Mexican based on the rice and beans. This is outrageous, slanderous, and about only half true. Certainly, if the rice and beans are an atrocity to your taste buds, then the place obviously doesn’t know what it’s doing. The problem with this measurement is that any Mexican restaurant with the foresight to hire at least one Mexican grandma can produce quality rice and beans, but that doesn’t mean the rest of their food is “bueno.” Capiche? If you really want to know if you’re eating great Mexican food, try these three tactics:
1. How artsy-looking is your food?
Truly great Mexican food looks like some great modern artist or invalid child threw some paint on a canvas and called it art. The food should all run together, each item barely distinguishable from next except, perhaps, from afar or by squinting really hard. The best Mexican food will look like like a bad Monet or a good Jackson Pollok–as good as a Jackson Pollok can be, at least. (“Pollock” is not a racial slang.) If your food actually looks like food–we’re talking anything more realistic than Picasso here–then you should send it back immediately, demand a refund, and spit at the hostess on your way out.
2. Does the tamale suggest that there is a God?
The absolute best barometer of a Mexican restaurant is its tamale. Slightly firm steamed masa with succulent shredded pork in mole sauce–there is nothing better in Heaven, Hell, or New Jersey. (Point of Interest: It is a common misconception that Eve was tempted to eat an apple from the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. In fact, Eve was tempted to eat a tamale from the Mesa of the Knowledge of … HOLY CRAP TAMALES ARE BUENO!) The best tamales will be slightly firm, not mushy or runny or wet in any way, but will still crumble beneath your fork. They will melt in your mouth–and in your hand, too, actually–and make you think twice about your atheistic doubts, heathen.
3. Are you enjoying your food?
Silliness aside, the best judge of any restaurant, Mexican or Canadian or Pacific Islander, is if you’re enjoying the food. Don’t let any critic or food blog–even this one–convince you that something sucks if you like it. What do we know? Food critics are glorified rhetoricians. In the food chain of importance, that’s one step above professional clairvoyant and one step below hall monitor. We eat food because we enjoy it. You should do the same.
We happen to write about it because we enjoy telling people what we think. And there are no openings for town crier.
Anyway, enough of that semi-emotional drivel. What were we talking about, uh, fashion show? (Thank you Family Guy.)
If you happen to find yourself at an Abuelo’s embassy, it’s well worth your time to stop in and stamp your food passport, amigo. It’s like having a real Mexican experience, except that you can drink the water.
Bueno!
DTR
What’s the deal with airport food?
June 17, 2009
GSP Concourse Food & Beverage [website] | Chicken caesar wrap
$13.50
That’s how much I payed for a chicken caesar wrap, chips, and a Diet Coke. Unlike whatever sauce they drowned the chicken in, I’m not bitter. It wasn’t Greenville-Spartanburg Airport’s (GSP) fault that God hates Dallas and decided to smote it with hellish storms the day I tried to fly in. However, it is their fault that my sandwich cost nearly as much as my ticket.
Airporty goodness.
When the guy behind the counter, Zach, said, “That’ll be $13.50,” I’m pretty sure I chuckled just a little bit. Regular Jerry Seinfeld this Zach fellow. He added, “We take American Express.” Who was I to argue with Zach? I looked down the concourse to my right. Zero food options. To my left, the women’s bathroom. This little stand had such a strong monopoly on food they’d soon be building red plastic hotels. (Hardy har, how I amuse myself.)
At least it wasn’t some cooler sandwich sitting on ice all day. No, no. Only the best for GSP patrons. Chef Zach made my wrap fresh. That was nice of him. Then we had a rather interesting exchange:
“What do you want to drink?” he asked.
“Diet coke,” I replied.
“What type of rum?”
“Um, the kind without alcohol.”
“We don’t have that kind.”
[blank stare] … “Then I guess I’ll go without.”
“Whatever, man, it’s your layover.”
Regular Charles Nelson Reilly this Zach fellow.
Anyhow, the wrap was terrible. Don’t eat at GSP.
DTR
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 reasons to try Pete’s No.6
June 8, 2009
Pete’s No. 6 [visit] | Honey chicken salad sandwich
Easley, SC
If simply telling you to visit isn’t enough, then I suppose I should give you “reasons” based on “facts” constructed into an “argument.” Whatever. You people are never satisfied. Anyway, here goes. First off, they have…
1. History!
There’s something to be said about old things. Classic cars, vintage clothing, Keith Richards. When something endures long enough to be considered “old,” it’s quality. (Does not apply to politicians. Or milk.) As the oldest restaurant in Easley, Pete’s No. 6 is a little slice of the long-since-past, the Golden Age of Americana when men were men, women were women, and J. Edgar Hoover was simply a “confirmed bachelor.”
Pete’s is over 50 years old! It’s true. People were alive then. I’ve seen it in stories and Eddie Izzard stand-up specials.
And if that’s not reason enough to visit, then you have the…
Chunky, sweet, chunky goodness
2. Chicken salad!
Vegetarians and vegans, I know your flesh-starved brains may be decaying because you lack the nutrients found in oh-so-succulent meat, so before you get your man-thongs and knickers in a twist, beware: Chicken salad does, in fact, contain chicken–a form of meat. The “salad” part is simply a reference to a sort of dish consisting of foods, as meat, seafood, eggs, pasta, or fruit, prepared singly or combined, usually cut up, mixed with a dressing, and served cold.
In this case, the “salad” part refers to chunky, chunky chunks of white meat with a mayo-honey dressing mixed with pecans (pee-kanz) and craisons on sour dough. Hold the tomato. (Always hold the tomato. Unless you’re into that sort of thing.) This extra-sweet, crunchy, chunky mixture of fresh ingredients is guaranteed to make even the most Yankee of souls whistle Dixie while demanding their industrious neighbor pay for and sanction morally bankrupt economic habits.
And if that’s not reason enough to visit, then you have the…
3. Sides!
Thick and creamy mac & cheese, slaw, fried okra, veggies, etc., etc., etc. You get two with your lunch plate. “Only two?” you ask greedily. Two. And that’s all you’ll need. You get a mound. Of each. Deal.
And if that’s not reason enough to visit, then you have the…
4. Price!
Scrumptious chicken salad and two sides for right around $8. Not too shabby, I’d say. Not in this economy. And if you think that’s too expensive, then you can always skip out on the bill and force Pete’s to petition Congress for a bailout.
And if that’s not reason enough to visit, then you have the…
5. Dessert?
Ok, so I didn’t actually have dessert. But I do know that they make their desserts fresh everyday. So I’m willing to bet they’re better than that chemically-baked, steroid-enhanced “apple” “pie” crap you get at McDogfood’s.
And if that’s not reason enough to visit, then you have the…
6. Flashing lights!
At night, Pete’s sign lights up like a 60s Vegas strip joint, seizure-inducing lights and all. (Remember: They’re old, so you can’t sue them. A seizure in their time was simply God smiting little Timmy for taking “an extra minute” to put on his Howdy Doody underoos.) If you’re not lured in by the nostalgia, great food, or fair prices, then at least give them a try when your truck crashes into the parking lot from your undiagnosed epilepsy.
And if that’s not reason enough to visit, then… what the “H,” “E,” double-hockey-sticks do you want from me?
DTR
Some simple, tasty Italian
June 4, 2009
Eddie Spaghetti [visit] | Fettucini alfredo w/ chicken
Clemson, SC
My mother once told me, “Never order Italian at a restaurant. You’ll just be disappointed.” My mother is wise. Prophetic even. Nostradamus looks like a less annoying version of Miss Cleo in comparison. Growing up in house of mixed European origins, we often ate Italian. And as I ventured into the big, scary world, I found myself craving dishes like my mom used to make. (Well, my mom wasn’t actually the best cook growing up. (Sorry, mom. (She’s certainly improved, though! (I’m so dead.))) More like grandma or my aunts used to make.) Lo and behold, Italian food at restaurants sucks–generally speaking. (Way to go, mom!)
Then I discovered Eddie Spaghetti. (C’mon, mom!)
The place looks like a poorly designed community theater set–checkered table cloths, cutsie salt & pepper shakers, and all. But the food is outstanding, especially considering that it’s in Clemson, South Carolina–a town known only for more for Dabo Swinney than good fettucini. (See what I did there?)
Nonetheless, I’ve ordered a variety of dishes in my two years in Clemson, and I have never been disappointed. I especially recommend the fettucini alfredo with chicken. Like most of their offerings, the fettucini is simple. Egg noodles, alfredo sauce, and lightly blackened chicken. You’re not overwhelmed by competing spices or underwhelmed by lack of taste. You’re simply whelmed by the simple, tasty combination of ingredients.
The sauce is pretty much the perfect mixture of creamy and sticky, neither running off your plate nor too thick to stop you from delightfully twirling your fork. The noodles, too, are cooked long enough to make them edible but with enough *umph* so they don’t fall apart with aforementioned fork-play. (That’s called “al dente” or something. Some foreign word.) I admit that the chicken is nothing to email your already-annoyed family about, and the dish would probably be just as good without it. Regardless, I know how some of you people are. You don’t eat a meal unless it has some sort of meat. (Don’t look around. You know who you are.)
If you’re not satisfied with the heaping mound of pasta, your lunch order comes with garlic knots–twisted bits of dough covered in olive oil, garlic, and parmesan (!)–and the dinner order adds soup or salad. Lunch is, by far, a much better deal at around $8. Paying $12+ at dinner is a little more expensive than I’m comfortable with, and I probably wouldn’t pay it if it wasn’t so damn good.
So, if you’re in the area, give it shot. You won’t be disappointed. And if you are, you’re probably a Yankee with damaged taste buds–at least, that’s what they’ll tell you.
DTR
Welcome and stuff
June 2, 2009
You’ve happened upon one of the greatest blogging experiments in the history of the Intertubes. Welcome to the new home of D.A.D.’s food blog and general rantitorium. We congratulate you for staying long enough to read this point.
Want to know more about us? This site? Life, the Universe, and everything? Visit our “About” page. We made it for a reason, after all. Check back soon for more updates and our first food reviews.
Or don’t. Whatever. We’re not going to take it personally.
D.A.D.
