Monday, August 30, 2010

Camel Riders Welcome at the Whiteway


Whiteway Delicatessen
1237 King St.
Jacksonville, FL
Visited August 30, 2010

Beer Selection: None

Food: Deli style sandwiches served in pita bread


"Camel Rider.”

Well, I’ve been called a mackerel-snapper, paddy and bog-trotter.

Whether you’re Middle-Eastern or Irish. Catholic, Protestant or Muslim. Someone’s going to have a name for you.

But in our politically correct, post-9/11 America, calling an Arab “a camel rider” might get you a knuckle sandwich – or worse.

But not in Jacksonville, Florida.

You’ll get a different sandwich all together if you call out “Camel Rider” in the dozen or so competing Arab-run lunch spots around town.

The Whiteway Deli is the most famous of these, tucking salami, ham, bologna, cheese, lettuce and tomato into a pita for their version of the “Camel Rider”, something Sam Salem and his family have been doing here for over 80 years.

While it might seem strange to experience such a stab at culinary exotica (awkward though it may be) smack dab in the middle of the city most famous as the birthplace of Southern Rock, it actually all fits together nicely into a story about American success and assimilation when you think about it.

Arab Christians fled Muslim persecution in the Middle East and began settling in Jacksonville over a century ago, a city that takes pretty serious claim to being the most redneck metro area in the South.

So why Jacksonville?

I have no idea.

Maybe these folks figured handling pick-up driving good ol’ boys would be a breeze compared to the Taliban of the Ottoman Empire.

Now, obviously there is nothing exotic or remotely Middle-Eastern about salami, ham or bologna. And that’s the point.

These newly transplanted small business owners figured out quickly that if you want to sell lunch to the locals, sell them what they are already comfortable with.

Then stuff it all into some Mediterranean looking pita bread and call it a “Camel Rider”.

Hey, don’t laugh. Pita bread can be exotic if all you’ve ever eaten is fried catfish and hush puppies!

Then -- wink, wink -- all of a sudden the natives come to think that maybe that dark-complected lunch guy down the street knows what he is doing after all.

It’s been a formula for success, as the Whiteway has been the see-and-be-seen lunch spot for Jacksonville movers and shakers for decades.

Unfortunately, the Whiteway was evicted in a dispute with the landlord a couple years ago, so I missed my chance to dine in the old historic location a few doors down.

The new digs lack that nostalgic feel of weathered counters and worn stools that adds so much to the experience of dining in an eight decade old institution.

The new ambiance can be best described as recently-built-high-school-cafeteria. But the paintings of historic Jacksonville buildings decorating the pristine white walls lend a little local flavor.

At 11am on a Monday, I pretty much had the place to myself. But an hour or two later, I’m sure it was full of office workers and politicians.

Sure enough, there were pictures of Republican establishmentarians like Bill McCollum and John Thrasher decorating the cash register.


The Whiteway is a necessary photo-op stop for all pols trudging across the Sunshine State for votes.

Unfortunately for McCollum, who somehow managed to lose last week in the GOP primary for governor to a crook who oversaw the largest defrauding of taxpayers in American history, it wasn’t enough votes.

Maybe he should have ordered a few more Camel Riders.

But its establishment popularity is what makes the Whiteway such a perfect case study in American assimilation.

The affection between the Salem family and their customers is obvious and mutual, as evidenced by the boxes and boxes of photos of Whiteway customers Mr. Salem keeps by the front door and the fact that the entire place is basically run on the honor system.

No one brings a check to the table.

When I was done eating, I wandered up to the cash register and flipped through a few dog-eared pictures and waited for Mr. Salem, who was busy entertaining the two year old daughter of a regular customer.

I told him what I ordered. “Camel Rider.” He smiled, told me the price and thanked me for coming by in an accent that sounded more North Florida than North Palestine.

Simple, good quality, familiar food, served with a smile, a touch of non-threatening pita bread ethnicity and a just a dash of self-depreciation. It’s a recipe for success all newcomers could copy.

Even mackerel-snappers like me.

Rating: Would Wear Shirt If It Were Free

Friday, August 27, 2010

Bustin' Caps

That's Jacksonville, Fl.


One of the few places in the Sunshine State that hasn’t been taken over by retired Yankees – at least not yet.

You see, Jacksonville still has its share of “good ole boys,” or what I like to call “North Florida Rednecks.”

It’s also known for other things.

Jacksonville is home to Atlanta Braves legend Chipper Jones.

Jacksonville is home to Southern rock legend Lynyrd Skynyrd.

Jacksonville is home to the “World’s Largest Cocktail Party,” where the Georgia Bulldogs and Florida GAYtors meet once a year for bragging rights.

Jacksonville is also home to the PGA Tour’s TPC Sawgrass.

Let’s face it, Jacksonville is a great place. I mean, any place where the folks elect Corrine Brown to Congress can’t be that bad.


On this particular day, Suit420 happened to be in Jacksonville, FL, cruising down A1A in between Jacksonville and St. Augustine.

It’s a beautiful ride. There are large mansions on the left. And on the right there’s cool-looking marshes and woods. It’s actually a ride I’ve made many times in my life, as Suit420’s brother now lives in Jacksonville.

But on this day I noticed something I never had. As I was riding along, I noticed a sign that read “Caps on the Water.”


I’d never seen it before. Perhaps it was because right behind it is one of the coolest houses I’ve ever seen. It looks just like a castle.

Since I was hungry, I decided to give it a try.

What a good decision.

Once I turned right at the sign, I thought for sure that the place didn’t exist. I was riding through a neighborhood on a very small road. But it turned out to be the right road.

The parking lot set up was great. It was all sand, and it appeared to be able to hold a lot of cars. There was a special sectiont that read "Motorcycle Parking."


There was even a spot for "Golf Cart Parking." I found out later on that Caps gets very popular on the weekend and the enormous sand parking lot actuallly fills up.

Walking up I was thinking to myself that this is going to be a very laid back, Jimmy Buffet style place.

And it sure was.

The place was huge.

But best of all, it was located right on the water. There were multiple places to sit outside and overlook the water. There was boat dock where boaters and jet skiers would park and come up for drinks or food.



There was even a small beachy area where you could let your kids go down and play while you and your lady relax.



There was an inside bar in case it got to hot, and a nice sit down place inside to eat.

But Suit420 was interested in the outside. There was an area where you could sit on the deck and eat a romantic dinner, or you could do what I did and head to the Oyster Bar.



The Oyster Bar at Caps was one of the coolest bars I've ever been in. It was about as Jimmy Buffetish as you could get.

There was an area with wooden tables, trees and sand. I couldn't help but think how if I lived around that area, I'd ride my boat up every Saturday during the Fall, and sit outside at Caps and get wasted.



It was so relaxing I wanted to curl up in the shade and take a nap. But Suit420 had some drinking and eating to do first.





And best of all, I could smoke my newly imported Djarum Super Cloves that I now have to order directly from Indonesia because here in the land of the free it's now illegal to sell flavored tobacco.

Basically, there's no part of our lives that government isn't heavily involved with. Even at a place like Caps, that's so secluded and relaxing, you can't escape the government.


Cause we all know without government there would be 10 year old kids at the bar getting wasted with their dads...

Now to the food.

The menu looked amazing. The Oyster Bar has its own special menu. There were Spicy BBQ Oysters. Steamed Oysters. Garlic Oysters. You name it.

The only unfortunate part was at the Oyster Bar, certain beers aren't available on draft, so Suit420 couldn't enjoy a Blue Moon out in the sun. So I went with a Vodka Tonic instead. I will note that if you're a wine drinker, this is a place for you. Caps has a special wine menu full of great selections. Imagine sitting on the dock in late September, smoking a stogie while sipping on a glass of wine overlooking the water as the sun goes down. That's relaxing. That's Caps.

The lunch menu had virtually anything you wanted, from seafood to steak to chicken to just a plain ole hamburger.

Suit420 decided to go with the deep-fried, farm raised snapper and grouper with fries and tartar sauce. And I ended up packing my stomach with every last drop of it.
I'm not sure if I like the snapper or the grouper more, but they were both delicious. The outside was cooked to a perfect crisp, and the flavors flowed out of each bite.


My acquaintance had blackened salmon, served with bacon beans and potatoes with plantains. Suit420 couldn't help but try her bacon beans and salmon. The bacon beans were just that -- bacon beans. And as always, they were good. I guess it's kind of hard to go wrong with bacon beans. The salmon was decent, but I'm not going to judge it because I don't particularly like salmon. I'll eat it occassionally, but I usually go for something else. But that entire plate was also wiped clean.


The food, service, and alcohol selection was great. The waitress was always there to ask if we needed more. My drink was never left empty.

But the scenery was so amazing that even if they would have just had a McDonald's menu and a keg of Natural Light, the place would still be one of the best in the area.

On the way out I made a pitstop by the bathroom, which turned out to be a good decision. Normally bathrooms are dull and boring, and don't ever make it onto Suits in Strange Places. But Caps was different. I spent about ten minutes in the bathroom looking at the wall.


In closing, if you're ever in the Jacksonville area, I suggest you head down A1A towards St. Augustine, and spend a few hours or an entire day at Caps. Just look for the castle. You can't miss it.

Rating: Bought the Shirt

Thursday, August 26, 2010

Going Upstream to Cheat on Your Beer


Upstream Brewing Company
514 S. 11th St.
Omaha, NE
Visited August 11, 2010
Beer Selection: Exciting variety of freshly brewed beers
Food: Standard brewpub fare




It’s just the way men are wired. We like to try different stuff.

If not held in check, that desire for variety can get us into trouble.

But I see nothing wrong with having a polygamous relationship with beer.

Go ahead. Try it. Cheat on your Miller Lite.

The sun will come up tomorrow. I promise.

When ever I walk into any bar or restaurant, the first thing I check out are the taps. Then the bottles on display.

I can spot the ubiquitous Miller Lite, Bud Light, Coors Light taps from across the room. My eyes just pass right over them like they aren’t even there.

No, I’m looking for something new.

Something cool.

Maybe even, SOMETHING I’VE NEVER TRIED BEFORE!

I guess that’s why I’m a sucker for a good brew pub every time. Freshly made beer in all sorts of cool varieties that have never before passed my lips.

Now that’s something to get excited about!

Unfortunately, sometimes this concept, which is built on the idea of exciting variety, can itself get a little stale.

Too many brewpubs stick the basics. IPA, stout, brown ale, red ale and the “American” lager (so your lame I-only-drink-Bud-Light-girlfriend doesn’t veto the place).

At some point, after you’ve tried one “Award Winning Fill-In-The-Blank Red Ale”, you’ve tried them all.

That’s why Omaha’s Upstream Brewing Company really stands out on my list of brewpubs.

They had the old brewpub standbys like “Firehouse Red”, “Flagship IPA”, “Capitol Pale Ale” and the limp veto-proof “O! Gold Light”.

But their beer selection went way beyond the basics, including “Dundee Scotch Ale”, “Old Market White Satin”, “Munich Helles”, “Johny Dortmunder Lager”, “Smoked Porter”, “Saisson Sorel” and “Raspberry Lager” (in case you have a slightly less lame girlfriend).

On top of that, they had some good cask conditioned beers.

It was like beer snob heaven!

Unfortunately, as always, I was on a tight schedule. I had 35 minutes to sample as much beer as possible and eat the only meal I would consume in a 48 hour period before heading to the Omaha Airport to spread my legs, raise my arms over-head and have some federal bureaucrat deem my bodily cavities necessarily adequate for travel within our own borders.

That doesn’t leave much time for exciting beer experimentation. So before I could even delve deeply into the beer menu, I ordered up an IPA, the ultimate test of brewery quality.

It was a beautiful bright golden color. Strong. Hoppy. Perfect.

Next I had to try Upstream’s “Smoked Porter”. I’ve had the Alaskan Brewing and Stone Brewing versions before and was anxious to try it.

Smoked beers, for the uninitiated, contain malt that has been smoked, rather than roasted. Of course, how much smoke is up to each individual brewer.

The Alaskan Smoked Porter is like drinking a carton of Marlboros – but in a good way. Very, very smoky. An exciting diversion from normal dark beer – and perfect for a cold Alaskan night feasting on smoked salmon and reindeer meat.

The version served up by Upstream is much more subtle, with just a few hints of smoke. But considering it was 100 degrees outside, maybe that’s not such a bad thing.

The only problem with Upstream was the service.

My bartender acted like she had just spent the afternoon hanging out with Suit420 before her shift. (But don’t worry about her; I’ll pick up the tab for her federally guaranteed food stamps, WIC, subsidized rent, cell phone and 99 weeks of unemployment after she gets canned.)

If she had demonstrated just a bit more ambition, I might have been able to squeeze in a third beer variety. But as it turns out, I was lucky to get my food 10 minutes before it was time to race to the airport.

I ordered a BBQ bacon burger with corn chowder.

The burger was big, but dry and over-cooked beyond recognition. Of course little miss ambition didn’t ask how I wanted it done and, mesmerized by the beer menu, I forgot to specify medium rare (which is really medium in restaurant translation). So I got stuck with don’t-sue-us-scorched.

The corn chowder was not as extravagant as some varieties I’ve had – it was basically just a can of creamed corn with spices and bacon. But, as it turns out, a can of creamed corn with spices and bacon is pretty tasty.

I wolfed down my food, polished off the smoked porter and was ready for my mad dash to the airport.

I had a 5:20pm flight.

Just one problem though. At 4:20, I was still sitting at the bar trying to get bartender420 to take my money. It was like trying to get one of those fuzzy mascots to throw you a T-shirt at the game.

But bad service on one random Wednesday afternoon isn’t going to keep me from coming back. I’m sure bartender420 will be collecting some of her 99 weeks of unemployment checks by the time that happens anyway.

For truly exciting beer selection in a cool, historic, high-ceilinged hang-out in downtown Omaha, Upstream Brewing is a great place to beat the heat.

Rating: Seriously Thought About Buying Shirt



Upstream Brewing Co on Urbanspoon

Tuesday, August 24, 2010

Dinor-mite

The Lawrence Park Dinor
4019 Main Street
Erie, PA

Hours: 7 AM-3 PM
Alcohol: None
Food: Limited menu and smaller portions than a chain, but cheap and very good

The nice part of globalization is that the best things from different parts of the country can now be found all over the place.

I remember when I walked into a Wal-Mart in Harper's Ferry, WV in 2002 while I was on the Appalachian Trail, and I was shocked to see they were selling giant blocks of Cabot Hunter's Cheddar Cheese.

Similarly, Wal-Mart now sells Blue Bunny ice cream, which until recently, was an Iowa thing. And there's now a Five Guys in Manchester, NH, whereas even ten years ago, it was strictly a DC thing.

But unfortunately, for every great regional product that Wal-Mart takes national or local chain that goes national through franchising, there are probably ten regional products that get crowded out.

When I drove into Erie, PA last night, my mom told me to go to a dinor (that's how they spell it in Erie) while I was there.

This morning, I set out from my hotel to go to the local Peninsula Dinor for breakfast, but unfortunately it had succumbed to the pressures of competing with the nearby Perkins and Eat 'N Park.

So after my morning meetings, I trekked over to the Lawrence Park Dinor on the other side of town, which is even listed on the National Register of Historic Places.

The dinor recently changed hands, but it was purchased by lifelong Erie resident who, as far as I could tell, wanted to keep a local institution going, and who was working the grill when I walked in -- always a good sign. When I walked in

Like the rest of Erie, the place looked like it had weathered the Rust Belt's downturn better than most places, unlike, say, Cleveland.

Like a lot of things in Pennsylvania, it was out of the past. This is no New Jersey super-diner with giant portions and a ten page menu.

Rather, the menu just a small tri-folded laminated sheet with breakfast on the left (served 'til 11) and lunch in the middle and on the right. And the portion sizes are from back when a quarter-pound burger was what you ordered when you were hungry, with prices to match.

I asked what a Greek hot dog is, and was told that it had mustard, onions and "Greek Sauce," which is a slightly spicy meat sauce (or beanless chili), similar to what is served on Zwiegle's white hots in Rochester, NY. And it was only twenty cents more than a regular hot dog, so that's what I ordered, along with a glass of chocolate milk and a bowl of chili.

The chili was more soupy than I usually like, but it came with crackers, and it was very tasty. Not super-spicy, but you definitely know you're having chili.

Then there was the hot dog. They serve Smith's hot dogs, Erie's answer to Zwiegle's or Hofmann's from Rochester and Syracuse, NY. It was a nice, big hot dog that the Greek Sauce made even better. Definitely worth the $2.20 I paid for it and the two pickle chips that came with it.

It was the tail end of the lunch rush, and service was a little on the slow side. After finishing my meal, I waited a solid ten minutes before one of the waitresses came over with my check, only to have me say, "actually, I was thinking of dessert."

The piece of French Silk pie I ordered was on the small side, like everything else, but it was quite good, especially the crust.

After finishing, I sat and did the devotional reading that I'd not gotten in earlier because of my fruitless trip to the Peninsula Dinor and the attendant hunting around. The place cleared out, and the owner struck up a conversation with me. I asked for the check, and was surprised to see that a drink, soup, the Greek hot dog and a piece of pie had only cost $10 (plus tip).

Obviously, in a way, this place isn't too different from places you'll find in most old industrial towns -- reasonably cheap breakfast and lunch joints that serve tasty but unpretentious food to the locals -- but I definitely think the Lawrence Park Dinor gives a nice Erie flavor to the whole thing.

After lunch, I went down on the public dock, where my dad used to go fishing when his father worked in Erie for General Electric, and then I ambled around the neighborhood he used to live in. Erie's still mostly keeping up OK, just like the dinor.

Rating: Seriously Thought About Buying the Shirt

Monday, August 23, 2010

The (Crabcake) Situation on the Jersey Shore

The Surfrider Restaurant
Virginia Beach, Virginia

Ok, I know Virginia Beach isn't really located in New Jersey.

Big deal.

MTV's hit TV show The Jersey Shore is located in Miami this year.  And the reality show stars are New Yorkers -- not New Jerseyans.

So what about REAL New Jerseyans?

They're the extremely drunk people on the Virginia Beach boardwalk every summer from about Memorial Day to Labor Day.

In fact, it's this influx of New Jerseyans that many believe led the local authorities to have bicycle cops hand out $10 tickets for saying bad words.

After all, at $10 per four letter word, that works out to roughly $500 per paragraph from the pockets of the average mid-Atlantic tourist!


Of course, weaving your way through the throng of cops on wheels and drunken New Jerseyans can make finding a place to eat a little difficult in place like the Virginia Beach oceanfront.

Like other tourist traps, often all the food you'll find is lame and the prices are high because everyone knows tourists aren't going to leave the strip.

So I headed just off the strip by a block or two to the Surfrider Restaurant.

Even at mid-day, the Surfrider was almost empty.

There were a couple of folks in the rather stylish separate bar area, but the only other table was a middle-aged couple having a "couple" of drinks with an 80-year old woman who was pounding bottled Budweisers.

My guess is the old woman was definitely on vacation.

Either that or she was still celebrating the end of prohibition.

The decor was pretty much what you would expect.  There were lots of fish replicas on the walls.

Looking at the menu, the prices weren't terrible.  Most of the options were seafood, but they had a decent selection of other items for land-lubbers.

They didn't have the beer selection listed, but I'd be surprised if there were good microbrews.

Going in, I had imagined ordering a nice plate of either fried shrimp or oysters, but I settled on the "world famous" crabcake sandwich with fries and a sweet tea to drink.


"We only have unsweet."

@#$#@$#@!!!!

Traveling as a I do, I'm certainly used to hearing that waitstaff is too lazy to mix sugar and tea together in other parts of the country.

As more and more Americans are moving into the South and contributing to it's lame-ification, I'm even used to hearing that occasionally below the Mason-Dixon line.

But come on.  This is SEAFOOD.

I'm pretty sure the main reason God created seafood was so folks could eat it while drinking sweet tea.


I bit the bullet and ordered unsweet and just sweetened it at my my table.

Or I tried to.

Despite my incessant stirring, I ended up just hopelessly watching the sugar crystals sink slowly to the bottom of my glass and stay there -- refusing to flavor my beverage all the while -- like sugar ALWAYS does when you mix it with tea cold.

Not a good start, Surfrider.

When the waitress brought my food out, I examined the broiled crabcake.

One tell-tale sign of broiled or fried crabcake is that if they have any radioactive orange tint or deep mustard hue, they aren't fresh.  They've been sitting around while.

Not this one.  It was fresh.  I could also tell it didn't have much filler.  Nice.

I took a bite expecting good, and I got it.  The biggest surprise was the quality of the bun.

Suit 757 has talked much about "Structural Burger Integrity," but the truth is, "Structural Crabcake Integrity" -- or SCI -- is every bit as important.

Despite the moist quality of the crabcake, the whole thing held together like a charm.

The only complaint about the crabcake was it was a tad on the bland side.  This is an easy mistake to make for a cook.

Crabmeat absorbs outside flavor incredibly easily, so if you make any sort of slight error with the Old Bay, it could ruin it.

I added a touch of Tabasco and a little salt.

The star of the show however were the fries.  They were awesome and came out brown and crispy -- like a 60-year old New Jerseyan.
 
The only way you get fries to look like this is to cook them for an extended period of time in grease that hasn't been changed in a few days.  

They were perfect and stayed crispy throughout the whole meal.

Surfrider wasn't perfect.

There was the absence of sweet tea, and despite the overwhelming waitress to customer ratio, the service was very slow.

But it wasn't too @#$#@ bad, all in all.  Especially for a place near the Virginia Beach Oceanfront.

Rating:  Would Wear the Shirt if it Were Free

Sunday, August 22, 2010

Racing the Wrecking Ball at Rosenblatt


Rosenblatt Stadium
1202 Bert Murphy Ave.
Omaha, NE
Visited August 10, 2010

Beer selection: Pretty pathetic and over-priced

Food: Ditto







Ah, minor league baseball.

It is one of my Suit757 philosophies that if you want to get the best feel for a true cross-section of a place, go to a minor league baseball game.

You’ll see the families with the cotton-candy smeared kids. The die-hard score-keeping baseball fans. Teenagers on wholesome date nights. And the rowdy town drunks heckling the opposing pitcher incoherently.

If you are lucky enough to be in town on dollar beer night (usually designated “Thirsty Thursday”), you’ll get the added bonus of 20-something coeds prowling the concourses in skimpy little halters looking for love.

Yes, a minor league baseball game is a perfect slice of Americana.

It’s always at the top of my to-do list on those rare occasions my plane touches down before 6pm and there is a home game at the old ballpark.

Tonight was just such a night.

I was especially excited, because Omaha and Rosenblatt Stadium are synonymous. Rosenblatt was built in 1948 and has most famously hosted the College World Series since 1950.

A lot of history has been made between the lines at Rosenblatt. But its days are numbered.

The last College World Series game ever played at Rosenblatt took place on June 29 when South Carolina took the National Championship over UCLA.

Rosenblatt has also been home to minor league baseball for most of its 62 years.

The final Omaha Royals game will take place in three weeks, after which the wrecking ball will mark the historic stadium’s demise once and for all.

In a typical ridiculous display of taxpayer funded waste, the NCAA and the Omaha Royals couldn’t agree on sharing a new stadium.

So what are the politicians in Nebraska doing to solve the problem?

You got it. Build two different brand-new baseball stadiums in Omaha.

One for the College World Series at a cost of $130 million for an event that takes place two weeks out of the entire year. And another one for the Omaha Royals, at a cost of $40 million.

But I didn’t want thoughts about the actions of idiotic politicians to bum me out. I was looking forward to checking out an historic baseball shrine in one of its final games. I felt like a lucky man.

I wish I could say I was impressed.

The stadium just doesn’t have that old-time throw-back minor league feel you get at other historic ball parks, like Jackie Robinson Ballpark (1914) in Daytona Beach, or Ray Winder Field (1931) in Little Rock, or Bowen Field (1939) in Bluefield, VA.

Those places have that cozy nostalgic feel as you contemplate all the decades of baseball fans and famous and not-so-famous players who have trod their rickety wooden stands. Those old ball yards could come straight out of a scene in “Bull Durham”.

But not Rosenblatt.

That’s probably because the stadium has been thoroughly renovated multiple times over the decades to accommodate the surge in popularity of college baseball.

So Rosenblatt just looks and feels like a soulless 25 year old throw-back to the 80s that needs a good scrubin.

There’s a fine line between nostalgic and shabby. And Rosenblatt falls on the wrong side of that line.

That impression is just reinforced when you make your food and beer selections.

Beer options are Bud Light, Miller Light or Coors Light. That’s like choosing between lethal injection, electrocution and hanging. And at $6 for 20 oz., that’s a bit steep for minor league baseball.

I did stumble upon a lonely guy selling Leinenkugel drafts for $6 for 14oz. Highway robbery, but at least there is another option.

Since this is Omaha, the food options include some items from hometown corporate mail-order giant, Omaha Steaks. You could get an Omaha Steaks burger or steak sandwich.

The steak sandwich wasn’t ready yet. And after watching the guy take a chisel to a giant block of frozen burger patties, somehow I lost interest in Omaha Steak products.

I opted instead for the bratwurst with peppers and onions and a hot dog.

The brat ($6) looked and tasted like it had been cooked hours or days ago. The vegetables were the same.

The tiny little hot dog (three dollars!!!) was quite possibly the worst I have ever had in my life. It had obviously been turning on the little hot dog rollers behind the cash register for days.

With food and beer choices this bad, no wonder less than 1,000 people bothered to show up for this titanic struggle between the Omaha Royals and the Tacoma Rainiers. Of course, to be fair, it was Tuesday night and literally 99 degrees at game time. It dropped all the way down to 91 by the last out.

But did the over-priced beer, lousy food and griddle-like temperatures get me down? No way!

I mean, what else would I rather do on a steamy summer night than kick back under the Nebraska stars with a cold beer in hand and watch some baseball?

Eating Taco Bell off the stain-covered bed spread back at the Best Western while watching reruns of “Entourage” just isn’t that appealing to me.

Plus, I was there to take in the last moments of a place that has hosted decades of baseball history.

And watch some baseball.

Oh yeah, the game.

One of the nice things about AAA (the level just below the big leagues), is that most fans who follow the game moderately will usually recognize a couple players in any given AAA game. These are the players who go back and forth between the minors and the bigs on a regular basis.

Tonight, I saw recognizable big leaguers like Mike Carp, Justin Smoak, Matt Herges and Scott Thorman, who hit the game winning home run in the 5th.

Also playing for the Rainiers was Dustin Ackley, one of the top prospects in all of minor league baseball.

So despite the fact that the place seems to deserve the wrecking ball, I enjoyed my evening at Rosenblatt. I saw a good game, recognized some big leaguers, drank some beer and left with the ability to say I’d seen a game at one of the most historic ballparks in America.

I’ll take that over the Best Western bed spread every time.

Rating: Would Wear the Shirt if They Paid Me

Friday, August 20, 2010

Where There's Smoke, There's Suit420


13th Street Barbecue
Columbus, Georgia

On this particular day, you could find me in my home state of Georgia, driving around Columbus.


It was the day after a Republican runoff for Georgia’s 2010 Governor’s race, and, as usual, there wasn’t much of a choice between the candidates. They were both just typical run-of-the-mill, I-love-government-when-I-control-it conservatives. But hey, should we really expect anything else from the Republican Party?

I mean, should we actually expect them to adhere to their supposed belief in free markets, private property and liberty. Not hardly.

A tad disgusted, Suit420 was starving. The hotel breakfast that morning was horrible, so I hadn’t eaten all day.

You would think since I was in my home state that I would know a good place to eat.

But I was in Columbus. And that’s a place I’ve only been once or twice in my life.

Having a couple hours until my meeting, I decided to ride around and see what I could find.

There were small cafes that caught my attention. Small burger joints. A couple of pubs. A strip joint. You name it.

I didn’t know what to choose.

And then I saw it.

Smoke on the horizon. And being Suit420, I instinctively headed in that direction.

Which turned out to be the best decision I had made all week.

I cut through several parking lots heading toward the smoke. I knew it wasn’t a building or a house. My guess was that it was BBQ.

And that’s exactly what it was.

13th Street BBQ. A small place about the size of a McDonalds or a Burger King. But in the back there was a huge smoker and stacks of logs.

Not being the BBQ expert that Suit69 or Suit757 are, I called Suit69 to ask his opinion.

Suit69 said that smelling smoke at a BBQ joint is a definite plus.

So I decided 13th Street BBQ it was.

As I pulled into the parking lot I noticed a sign claiming that they were home to the “Original Pork Chop Sandwich.”


Now, BBQ I don’t know a lot about.

But I do know pork chop sandwiches.

And aside from my dad’s summer time grilled ones, the best I’ve ever had was in Binghamton, NY, at a small hole in the wall and it was called a Spiedie.


Now, on a hot summer day in the South, smells in the air carry really well.

So as soon as I opened my car door, the smell of the wood, meat and smoke hit my nose and made my stomach scream “hello pork chop sandwich.”

It was a little before noon so the place wasn’t crowded yet.

Walking in, I found the color scheme interesting. Everything was red and white checkered. It was a really simple place, which I liked. No fancy drawings on the wall. No fancy decorations. Just a plain and simple Southern bbq joint.


I walked up to the counter curious as to what I should order. The menu had just about everything BBQ you could want.

But since they claimed to have the world’s “Original Pork Chop Sandwich,” I decided I had to go with that.

So I approached the counter, and was pleasantly surprised to find all girls, except for one guy who appeared to be the owner, working in the back.

And they were all cute southern girls.

I also found it neat that they had a newspaper style menu that you could take with you. The menu had advertisements from local businesses in it, which was also a neat concept.


Once I ordered the Pork Chop Sandwich and some good ole sweet tea, I was even more shocked. The sandwich and chips were only around 5 bucks.

And it was in front of my in less than two minutes. "Fast food BBQ," I thought to myself.

I grabbed my plate, a menu and headed to the corner to sit and try the sandwich.

The sandwich was amazing. The meat was thick and very smoky looking. The outside was brown from the smoke.


I didn’t even put ketchup or bbq sauce on it because the smoky taste was so damn good. Of course, Suit420 always likes smoke, but this was a different smoke.

Each bite got better and better. The meat was cooked perfectly and wasn't dry at all.

And it was good quality meat. Some meat gets where it doesn't chew good, but this meat had hardly no fat and chewed perfectly.

It was the perfect pork chop sandwich.

I gobbled my sandwich down pretty fast while I watched the place fill up.


Obviously, this is a local place where everyone – from the town doctor to the farmers to the businessman – comes to eat at lunch.

My last bite was hard to take.

Not because I was full. But because the sandwich was so good I wanted more.

In fact, the smoky taste stayed in my mouth for the next hour or so. It was a great after taste, and made me crave more pork chop sandwiches. And yeah, Suit420's mouth usually taste like smoke, but not this kind of smoke.

Moral of the story -- where there's smoke...you won't always find fire.

But you'll usually find good BBQ, and if you're lucky, Suit420.

Rating:  Instead of buying the t-shirt, I settled for another pork chop sandwich.