Archive for April, 2010
I’m amused the tumblr “fuckyeah____” trend. It’s cute.
Burroughs’ Encyclopaedia of Astounding Facts and Useful Information encourages women to sit by a window and get some sunshine, also don’t study too much. It’s hard on the body.
Flirting in the Year 2000:
…let’s just get to the food (I referred to the decor as “…the TGI Friday’s of BBQ.”).
Nowhere was the catfish, oysters or gumbo they advertise. I asked the cashier what was in the boudin balls besides “pork and rice dressing.” At first, she said it was just pork and rice. “The dressing isn’t like stuffing? It doesn’t have any bread in it?” The confusion was visible on her face. I tried to clarify, with no luck, and ordered the pulled pork taco. “No tortilla,” I requested with a smile. Again, visible confusion. I explained I am allergic to flour and couldn’t eat the tortilla. She also didn’t understand when S asked if any of the beers in the cooler were local. “…PBR is our house beer?” I opted for water.
We seated ourselves outside and took in the ambience. It entailed a good 10+ children running around, and being yelled at by their parents to stop running. I had the pleasure of informing S that yes, cornhole was a real game – family appropiate. While waiting for our food I sampled the three sauces, labeled “spicy,” “sweet” and unlabeled, but clearly mustard. “Well,” I arched my eyebrow (not really. I wish I could do that.) “That’s a whole lotta nothing special.” The sweet and spicy tasted the same, except the spicy had pepper flakes in it. “I’d have a hard time believing these were house made – they have that corn syrup sweetness to them.” As my pork “taco” came sauced, I had no further use for them.
Our food arrived and, after I returned from asking for silverware back at the register, we dug in. Some kind soul in the kitchen thought to put my pork taco on a bed of (bagged) salad. The ramekin was full of sour cream, but the “fresh avocado” was the epitome of a dollop. The pork was completely unremarkable. I just had nothing good, nothing bad, nothing to say about it. I’ve had cold baked beans out of a can that were more interesting than my taco’s side of them. A generically sweet, bland taste. It was almost insulting, the straight-up Sysco flavors we were getting…
S agreed about the abject mediocrity of the pork, further musing it had a “confit” flavor to it. Later in the evening, as we discussed favourite cuts, recipes, etc. I pointed out the meat was probably so greasy because it was reheated leftovers, hence the fatty, greasy “confit”-like flavor. He completely agreed. He said the fried squash was, again, nothing remarkable. On our way out after ordering we’d passed a kitchen worker coming in with a bag of it, frozen – so, also not house/fresh made. It did look more squash than batter, though; points for that.
K had the trio. Salty ribs, chicken and the same pulled pork as S and myself. I liked the collards alright – they, at least, seemed fresh – but K said they hadn’t been salted enough. He had nothing to say about the chicken. Neither ate their cornbread. The boudin balls weren’t spicy at all, more like hash and rice rolled into a ball and deep fried – a little too long. The spicy, stone ground mustard they came with was one of the best flavors of the meal – at least, one of the most flavorful.
We finished just in time to escape the entertainment (a guy with a guitar and amp and classic rock covers) to head back to town and assuage our disappointment with bourbon. End verdict: style over substance, connections over quality and a complete waste of a trip. I could see how families would definitely enjoy a restaurant where the kids can play outside and not fidget at the table, and I think it might be the only BBQ in Blythewood.
If you want BBQ around Columbia, my choice is Lil’ Pig*, S’s is Palmetto Pig and for some reason, K frequents Doc’s – all three of us amicable to Hudson’s.
*Why Lil’ Pig is my top choice:
Good and varied sides: I don’t like over-cooked, over-salted, mushy vegetables such as one usually finds on a buffet (esp. a BBQ buffet). Lil’ Pig has a great variety that never tastes like it was poured out of a 20 gallon can into a heating dish.
The meat: There’s a lot of it. In addition to the BBQ, there’s ribs, fried chicken, pork chops…probably one or two other things I can’t eat, and fried fish. I usually eat the fried fish, as it’s just a nicely-seasoned cornmeal rub (ie, gluten-free). The pork chops are also lightly breaded, as fried chops are wont to be, but the proprietor is pleased to cook you up some gluten-free ones.
Staff is constantly refilling the trays on the buffet, indicating food is cooked near-to “order.” Never had a dry, greasy fish filet cross my plate.
The BBQ: I’m not a sauce person. I think if you’re going to cook meat, cook good meat, cook it properly, and let it speak for itself. Lil’ Pig has vinegar, red and yellow BBQ on the buffet and, if you get there early enough, a whole pig on its buffet, laid out with a pair of tongs. IE, the aforementioned cook meat, cooked properly. You just grab the tongs, pick out what you want, and give it a tug. Gross, no? Also delicious.
We didn’t stick around for dessert at Smoke, so I don’t know what they have, but Lil’ Pig has good banana pudding and some sort of chocolate thing I can’t eat, due to the Oreos innit. The pudding also has Nilla wafers innit, as they know what the heck they’re doing, but there’s usually a little bit I can taste, untouched by cookie. I don’t even really like banana pudding, but I like their’s.
It’s, you know, awesome. People’s facial reactions upon first viewing are part of the fun.
Everytime you look at it, there’s something new.
One of my favourites:
Yup. Now, I just gotta find a frame deserving of so much epic.
Full get-up was here.
Hanging from my belt
My glitterstim pipe:
An opium pipe, a gift from a dear, globe-trotting friend.
My “military” accoutrement, courtesy of last year’s Alchemy:
And, of course, my bottle of Lando vintage emerald wine:
Also, since we’re talking about costume details, I was Birdgirl: Attorney at Law, a few years ago. I looked spectacular…per usual, about…oh, two people had a clue who I was.
I made a briefcase
I represent the National Bird Man Love Association. Here’s my card: