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Restaurant Review and Other Useless Opinions:
This page was created to so that I can sing the praises or criticisms
of the places that I choose to shovel food down my hole. I feel that I
have drank a beer or two, eaten at, passed out in, and otherwise defiled
many many fine establishments through out my dining career, so that I
can be a good or bad judge of character, service, selection and atmosphere
as well as the next wanna-be gormet.
Anyone that can claim they have gained 22 pounds in one Christmas Break
from college should have the honors and public duty to warn or encourage
patronage to his or her eating resume establishment.
As the first recipient of this first of a kind honor, (though eating
hunks of cheese and bagets of French bread while waiting in line for the
chairlift does not exactly qualify as a reviewable restaurant.) I feel
it is my civic duty to provide the world with my expert opinion for better
or worse. Now, on to the review. One last thing, the real names of these
places are not used so as to avoid such an event as a hizbollah rocket
attack on my house because the local Gyro Joint (pronounced "Sheetboooox")
miss took a compliment for a perceived slight. The names I have chosen
are or at least sound familiar to the actual fine dining establishment.
Best Restaurant in Hickory
Area!
Last night my wife and I decided to break away from the monotonous
food carousel that consists of Da Vinci’s (this was my favorite
until last night), 1859, Vintage House, Michael’s on 4th,
and other number named eateries. My wife had the pleasure of meeting
the chef of a little known restaurant while hosting a kitchen during
the Hickory Service League’s fund raiser this past year. She
learned that the chef owned restaurant in the Rivercrest golf development
just across the bridge in Alexander County. Being observant as mole
on the 4 times that I played beer and drank golf, I never noticed
– THE BEST RESTAURANT IN OR AROUND HICKORY!!!
I must say when we arrived, I was still not positive there was a
place to eat even when we pulled in the parking lot or even when
we went in the front door. It was Friday night and the parking lot
and the tables were practically empty. Not what I look for in a
dinning establishment! But being hungry brave souls we entered the
dinning room and were promptly seated.
The décor was as vanilla and boring as you can possibly get.
Nothing to make you want to get up and take a closer look at a photograph
or painting. Not one item that sparked a sense of nostalgia. I felt
like I was visiting a country club dining, which of course I was.
Anyway, our waiter made a few recommendations and promptly brought
our bottle wine. He even changed sides after he poured my wine so
he could take my wife’s order first. I know we live in the
south and I am convinced, not only by my wife’s lack of a
southern accent, but that we are infested with Yankees that insists
on following a social etiquette that makes Greg Marmalard seem sincere
while introducing you to Jugless.
We ordered heavy appetizers and I chose the Jager schnitzel and
Kathryn went with classic weiner schnitzel. Our waiter did not even
blink and eye when I requested a side a béarnaise sauce.
(wow, too bad they don’t serve chorizo). Our waiter returned
several times to refill our wine glasses, though the bottle was
on the table – excellent service. He brought us warm crusty
bread and red-wine vinegar with olive oil that was very pleasing
to the tongue. He asked what we thought about it so far with sincerity
in his voice and even listened to our responses. My appetizer was
a huge wurst filled salad, the likes of I had never had before,
but would order again in a heart beat. Kathryn got the spaetzle
with a hunter sauce. We could have left then and been happy.
Our entrée’s arrived with more food than Guy Holbrook
could begin to put down. Mine came with red cabbage that I requested
a double order and to skip on the roasted potatoes. Kathryn went
red cabbage and roasted potatoes. We did not talk for some time
unless you count the moans of joy that emanated from our please
palate. This by far was the best meal we have ever had since moving
to Hickory. It’s only competition that we could come up with
in the last year was The Sugarmill on the island of Tortola in the
British Virgin Islands.
We were to stuffed to order desert, though I almost had to be restrained
from licking my plate, I mean hey the German’s aren’t
exactly known for their manners and we were in Alexander county,
when in Rome…
Our bill was extremely reasonable. Had we ordered like we did at
1859 I would have had to take out a loan. Before tip it came to
$72. I was very happy. My only criticism was the lack of personality
the place had, but hey, I can over look anything for a fantastic
Weiner.
Rating: 9.2 out of 10
Location: Just outside of Hickory
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BB-Q Reviews
I have decided to devote a section of wit to what is arguably North Carolina’s
greatest gift to the world, excluding the 1983 NCAA Championship game,
of course. There are allegedly two styles of this wonderful tongue pleasing,
belly filling manly man food. Of course that is like saying there are
two kinds of men. One hunts, fishes, drinks beer and watches sports, the
other puts gel in their hair and goes to raves. They aren’t even
the same species.
I am referring to Lexington style and Mountain style also known as shit-on-a-plate.
For those of you who can’t tell the difference, Lexington aka “the
only style”, is a vinegar-based, slowly smoked and lovingly prepared
hunk of God’s favorite meat. Mountain style is a disguised piece
of horse flesh that is cooked with tomatoes and sugar. Many folks often
confuse this dish with Tofu flavored with soy manure. Tangy, with hint
of ipecac, usually used by doctors who believe a patient needs a good
purging.
Anyway, I am pretty sure this wonderful concoction was brought to the
region by General Sherman, or maybe Dean Smith. The jury is still out.
But I digress; this section is not an opinion or history piece. This section
is to educate the potential diner on what each place has to offer in the
way of food, service, location and ambiance. Here goes.
Stamey’s
Founded in Greensboro, this ancient establishment offers some of the finest
food for the palate that one could ever find in the state. It is commonly
agreed upon by those with taste and intelligence, that Stamey’s
is the best BB-Q in the city limits. They are extremely quick to bring
you your order, and keep your tea filled to the brim. Many of the waitresses
have been there since the Truman Administration. They use plastic cups,
which is always convenient to carry out with having to ask for a to-go
cup. The hotdogs, with the perfect blend of pink and grey coloring, are
outstanding as is the chili which is a must with every hotdog. I don’t
get slaw on my Dog, but it ain’t a sandwich without it. They have
a Brunswick stew that is thick, tasty and unbeatable by any in the State.
They do a great job of keeping a bottle of Texas Pete available on the
table that makes an excellent blend with the ketchup which is a must when
eating their hush-puppies. You can eat your fill, with tip, and be out
for under 6 bucks. I do wish they had few more photos around the joint,
it would really add to the feel of what a great institution the place
really is. Stamey’s recently joined the new millennium when they
started accepting credit card a couple of years back. They also have one
of the best locations with their original restaurant next to the Coliseum.
Nothing is as perfect as filling up here just before walking over to see
the ACC Tournament. I do wish they were open on Sunday; I would like to
believe that Jesus would have gotten a to-go order from here for the Last
Supper.
Rating: 7.5 stars
Honey Monks aka Lexington BB-Q
If Jesus was going to serve Stamey’s to his eleven best friends,
then God himself has a standing order from this place for his heavenly
feast. Stamey’s takes first place in Gate City, but Honey Monks
brings home the blue ribbon for the State of North Carolina. It is rumored
that the entire reason I-85 was rerouted was because the Governor didn’t
like having to wait behind a line of Halfback from Florida telling everyone
how they used to do it back in Cleveland just to get a seat. This place
is as good as it gets. Everything is same as the day it opened. I am pretty
sure the chairs are the original ones that Mel Gibson’s character
in the movie “The Patriot” carved himself , though much sturdier.
You know it is a great place to eat when you look at the majority of the
clientele and see that most out-weigh the Chicago Bears offensive line.
I went in a few years back, lets just say I was at my prime fighting weight
of just under 260(pounds, not inches) and I was asked if I would like
to see the children’s menu. That is when you know you have arrived!
The hotdogs and chili are better than any you would find at the Dog House
in Wilmington. Stamey’s still takes the prize in the Brunswick stew
category, but their’s is only half a kernel of corn behind. The
Que is the reason to get up in the morning and leave that naked blond
in the bed. They offer it sliced and chopped, sandwich or plate. Either
way will make you a believer. There are three things I would like to be
buried with, my fishing rod, Mr. Smithers, and a BB-Q sandwich from Honey
Monks.
Rating: 8 stars
The Dixie Chicken
Location: College Station, Texas
Atmosphere: Rootin’ Tootin’ Gig’em
Aggie Cowboy Bar
This place is awesome. So awesome in fact that it is even mentioned in
the Robert Ear Keen song “Fighting Texas Aggie”. If you like
to watch a 6 foot rattle snake eat a live chicken while you down Shiner
Bock and Sandwiches (aka Budweisers), then this is your spot. Typically
I would not give credit to the Lone Star state for having any sort of
passable BB-Q that ain’t pork, but this place has got some great
BB-Q ribs. I had the pleasure of accompanying a great friend of mine,
Mark Knight aka Chappy, to this mecca of beef and beer. Being in Texas
I had to try the double gut buster burger and a side order of the ribs.
And you wonder how I make it to the 260 mark. Everything about this place
will make you want to stand up and kick a Commie or a Long Horn, right
in the figs. From the multitude of dead animals and fish on the wall,
to pinball and Pac-Man video games, this place makes you long to return,
even minutes after you have stumbled out the door.
I would like to give many thumbs up for the huge urinal trough and single
dumper (with no door and no toilet paper). To work up the ole appetite
or get your daily exercise, they offer a plethora of work out equipment
such as darts, pool, in-door horse-shoes, and fist fighting. The prices
are low, the burgers heart stopping, and the women weren’t topless,
but close enough.
Service: Hot
Rating: 8.5
Steak Houses
Steak Houses are the staple eating facility of the American Man. In a
country where the number two condiment is actually meat, this should be
the first reviewed category in this section.
The Anus
Location: Hwy 70 in Hickory across from the porn store
(not the good one).
Price: Reasonable to low, but cash – pronounced
Kayshee – only.
Service: Great if you wish to order a beer, the waitress
comes to your table, and amazingly enough she even brings it back to you.
However, when ordering food, you must approach the cash register. Then,
staring through the cigarette smoke at the menu posted on the wall, tell
the same waitress that took your beer order, what you want. I guess “12
oz steak – medium rare” is more complicated than “Budweiser
– cold”.
Atmosphere: The dirty diaper three paces from the front
door was not a true indicator of this rough and tumble “shoot’em
up” saloon. The 37 crow bar marks on the lock didn’t do much
to deter me either. Inside there are two pool tables, several permanently
seated seedy individuals that all like to give the “stink eye”
to new comers in a fine southern hospitable kind of way. The highlight
of this fine eatery was the architects wise and money saving decision
to place the sink for both the men and women in the dining room. Nothing
like seeing ole’ Ricky pop that zit and pick that dip out of his
lip while I chewed on my horse flesh. I did think they went a little too
far in the money saving department by choosing not to put a door on the
men’s room, but I guess I am a little too blue- blooded for such
thriftiness.
Rating: ***
The Charlene:
Location: Hickory
Price: High
Service: Friendly to Spiteful. I have continually had
good waitress, huge, but friendly. The meat cart guy never seems to find
my humor up to par, but does a good job of getting me buy an extra ounce
or two at the pleasing rate of $10 per milligram. The real highlight of
the serving experience is the crotchety old man that stands behind the
salad bar giving anyone that takes to many spinach leaves the dreaded
“stink-eye”.
Atmosphere: The interior of The Charlene is decorated
in an early Kernersville White Trash?, the wall material is fine glaze
of soot and grime on white washed asbestos.
Food: I have yet to walk away going “damn, that
was a good meal” but I continue my patronage because its location
is right next door to Putt-Putt. They specialize or what they are known
for in some circles, is the “Bubba Steak”. This is when crazy
ingredients such as “pepper” and “salt” are rubbed
into it before it is cooked/mircowaved. They have never heard of béarnaise,
but do have a ready supply of ketchup. They do have an excellent Cheese
Bar featuring many outlandish varieties of my favorite bowel stopper such
as cheddar and white cheddar.
Rating: **
Breakfast and Lunch Joints
The Sheet Bar
Location: Hickory
Price: Low, but refuses to enter 20th century and only
accepts cash, beads, wampum, trinkets, baubles, and Confederate dollars.
Service: See below
Quite the icon of fine Hickory cuisine is just around the corner for
you and your closest enemies. If you are looking for grouchy, unsmiling
waitresses, 1950’s décor, and bad parking, then take your
finger out of your nostril and come on down.
Located in Hickory’s quaint ex-factory district, this fat man’s
delight will help your cardiologist into his dream car with in days. Upon
arrival, you may notice some interesting, heavily rusted metal structures
designed to make parking difficult. That is why they are there.
Once you have entered, you will be greeted with southern hospitality
that you crave: Grrrrr! Or Well?????...... (done with agitated foot tapping).
My favorite is the averted eyes, no greeting and surly waitress lady hurling
menus toward a suggested table located somewhere inside the wall of cigarette
smoke that lingers in the air in the no smoking section. Or when the waitress
brings out the food, puts it on the fold out serving stand and then hands
on hips says, "You gonna sit there or serve yourself? I need my tray."
(This actually happened).
I truly believe that we southerners are forgive and forget kind of people.
Nevermind that day 4 of Gettysburg is always on the verge of happing,
or that most of us are ready to send our tax dollars to Richmond. The
Sheet Bar is a happening place. Hoards of slack jawed locals, chewing
2 and 3 toothpicks at a time are always coming and going at an amazing
rate. They can’t wait to get a good heaping helping of the Brown
Food Group. The unofficial motto being: “If ain’t Brown, flush
it down”.
The highlights of my Sheet Bar adventures are the trip to the bathroom
where I can wipe my hands on the same revolving roll of flith-cloth as
Boss Hogg did back in ’64. It just goes around and around, getting
cleaner and cleaner with each pull. I am pretty sure the bus boys have
been using it wipe something other than their hands when everyone leaves.
I also get a thrill of seeing a business of today relying on some lady
with an abacus and refusing to take credit cards. It just brings tears
to my eyes, oh wait, that was just the cigarette smoke.
I will say that food is very good, and it is also the only non-chain
restaurant open on a Sunday in this directionally dysfunctional town.
Though their okra is fresh from the can, the fried oysters and catfish
are damn fine. Every time I leave, I swear that I will never return. Then,
come Sunday, faced with option of battling 300 stoplights to get out to
hwy 70 to wait in line, or putting up with service fit for a dirty Frenchman,
I choose the Sheet Bar. Until Café Gouda opens on Sunday, I’ll
take an order of oysters, fried of course.
Rating: **
Nice and Wannabe Nice Restaurants
unLucky 32s (the “s”
is optional”, kind of like those of ya’ll that say Belks)
Location: Greensboro
Pricing: 18-23 dollars a plate – reasonable to
the quality of the food.
Menu: Solid choices, rotating seasonal menu
Much like the Hindenburg, this silver blimp has seen better days. My
last visit to this dimly lit food trough was hopefully my last. But, like
a bum check, I probably shall return because the Kentucky Bourbon Steak
is excellent.
My final visit was quite entertaining. Now this is not some waitress
that I have ever had before. I am pretty sure that she did not know that
I was friends of Trey “bulldog” Anderson. In fact I had never
seen her before in my life. The following was pretty typical of many recent
visits.
Our waitress took our order in a somewhat timely fashion; by timely I
mean that is we only watched 1 inch of dust form on the table instead
of 2. My parents made the outrageous demand of, get this, “mushrooms
on their pizza”. She returned to inform my parents with the best
excuse I have ever heard. “The kitchen does not want to open a new
can of mushrooms.” was her response.
Now I have been trying to avoid French fries so I asked for green beans
instead of the fries with my turkey and Swiss sandwich. She smirked with
a “No problem” and off she went.
Finally she brought out our food, sans mushrooms for my parents pizza.
She placed my sandwich plate in front of me, loaded with fries. She then
turned to my parents, handing them their pizza and saying in a very cheery
voice, “They accidentally put his green beans on your pizza! Hahahah.
Can you believe that? Do ya’ll need anything else? No? Okay, enjoy!”
And off she went. Leaving me to watch my parents’ woof down my cheese
covered green beans.
When the bill came, my parents got the privilege of not only buying me
and my wife our meal, but for paying for the mushrooms as well.
One aspect that I forgot to mention was the bar. If you love to chew on
cigarette smoke then this unfiltered room is for you. The booth seating
in the back makes for great sleeping quarters ask Trey, he'll tell you.
They will only charge you 27 beers to "sleep" there.
Rating 6.5 stars
Chunkhill's
Location: Morgantonsborroberg aka: Big
Marion
Price: moderate high to more high
Crikey! News Flash! British Food….. Not Very Bloody Good!
That’s right folks, Limey food in Morganton ain’t as tasty
as you may have thought. Recently, I had the wonderful privilege of waiting
many hours in Ye Olde Urinal while my hunk of cow udder was being grilled
to charcoal bricquet perfection. Not that I minded so much, chewing on
beef jerky smothered in burnt mushroom sauce, but it was the 3 hour wait
for my meal to be chucked down in front of me that pushed me over the
edge. I knew I was in for a good rogering when the Limey Chef came out
and started eating his meal while I was working on my 4th Dish Water –
aka Bass Draft.
This pause in the “service” gave me a chance to look around
the gloom, I mean room, and see what is known as “authentic dinning
atmosphere”. I have seen bathrooms in Hardee’s with more personality.
Putting the Union Jack over a dirty stucco wall, while turning the lights
to a 2 amp setting does not, at least in my opinion, make me feel like
I have traveled to sunny ole’ England. Then again considering it
has more rainfall than Seattle in a typhoon, it might be right on target.
Maybe Brits do turn the lights down for a few good reasons: Hot babes
like Margret Thatcher and Jane Erye, bangers and mash, Mr Bean and David
Beckham. I would turn the lights off and cock my pistols if any of these
hooligans were around.
Back to my dinner. Our wonderful waitress, who was straight from Ye Olde
Broughton Mental Asylum, did a great job of explaining why Ye Olde Chef
was dining on his haggis and Yorkshire pudding, instead of cooking. “Welllll,
shit ya’ll. Cooks gotta eat too!” while she asked us for the
third time what we had ordered.
When my “Salisbury” filet arrived it was delightfully served
with a plate, parsley, and what could only be velveta and a pasta substance.
Our “waitress/social experiment” brought me a butcher’s
cleaver to hack through the char so I could get to the “nugget”
that was my steak.
After we settled up, only taking out two mortgages to pay for “authentic”
foreign food, we went downstairs to Morganton’s hottest night spot.
Get this, an “authentic” British Pub. Chock full of patrons
on day leave from Broughton Hospital, this trendy watering hole was “bump’in”.
The waitress made sure we had our required pack of Dunhill’s unfiltered
and then walked off without our order. I will give the place credit for
having 3 good looking waitresses. Though “waitress” may be
a strong term, standing behind the bar and telling us that we should quit
being “cheeky” and “daft” is a stretch.
I give my experience here a three jolly good buggerings. Save yourself
the pain eat at your local school cafeteria, just don’t order the
steak and kidney pie.
Rating: 4 stars
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