Best Burger - Ever

Annie Gunn's
16806 Chesterfield Airport Rd.
Chesterfield, MO





This is the new standard that all burgers shall be judged:  Annie Gunns near St. Louis.  I had no expectations, I was just tired and hungry and this was near the hotel.  What a great surprise.


Save up your per diem if you are in the St. Louis area.  This is worth every penny.

http://www.anniegunns.com/pdfs/ag_menu.pdf

You might want to make reservations.  I had to fight for a seat at the bar.  And it was worth it.

I am in awe of the burger.  The steaks here are great, and the trimmings are what get ground into burgers and these bad boys are huge, flavorful and every topping you could want.

Great beer selection, excellent scotch, whiskey and rare bourbons.



Rating:  Heck,  Don't just buy a t-shirt, buy stock in this place.

Oh Goody Goody! Chili For Breakfast!

Goody Goody Diner
5900 Natural Bridge Ave.
St. Louis, MO


Ahh, breakfast.

Nothing awakens the senses like that first early morning meal of the day.

The rising sun streaming through the kitchen blinds.

The sound of birds chirping hello to a new day through the open window.

The scent of fresh ground coffee brewing.

The sight of lingerie-clad Scarlett Johansson delivering a cast iron skillet full of biscuits and sausage to my bedside.

A gigantic overflowing omelet of potatoes, onions, green and red peppers smothered in a half gallon of chili and melted cheese.

What?

Did that chili thing just disrupt your idyllic dream breakfast scene?

If so, you are reading the wrong blog.

Wake up!

Nothing says “good morning” in the city of St. Louis like a flowing river of bean and meat infused chili ladled on top of an over-stuffed omelet.

In most parts of this city, such a hearty early morning delicacy is called “a slinger.”

Here at the venerable Goody, Goody Diner, they call it “The Wilbur”.

But no matter what you call it, no trip to St. Louis is complete without devouring at least one chili smothered omelet.

As if this over-sized plate full of protein, carbs and chili wasn’t enough, my Wilbur came with the largest biscuit and bowl of grits you’ll ever see.

Huge, fluffy and soft as a baby’s bottom, this was steamy biscuit perfection.

The giant bowl of grits was first class all the way too. None of that runny crap you get at the chain restaurants. This was thick, rib-sticking hominy that came up in big clumps with every forkful.

Following my “too much is never enough” Suit757 philosophy, I made the quick determination that all this still wasn’t enough food for me.

So I ordered three pork sausage patties on the side. You can never have too much meat, right?

It was a good choice. Well seasoned and soft and crumbly, this was four star home-made sausage – and a perfect compliment to my chili-ladened mound of eggs, cheese, peppers, onions and potatoes.

You can tell right away the Goody, Goody Diner knows what they are doing. First of all, they’ve been around since 1948.

And the place was packed – at the distinctly unpeak hour of 10:45am on a Wednesday.

Friendly service by waitresses who seem to know every customer in the place – except for me that is – make even an out-of-town suit feel welcome. Even if I was the only white guy in the place.

A stool at the lunch counter was the perfect perch to watch all that goodness stream out of the kitchen – and eavesdrop on local gossip. Like whose daughter is working at the local strip joint and what kind of season the Cardinals are going to have this year.

Always in a hurry, I scarfed down a week’s worth of calories in 20 minutes and made my mad dash for the airport.

Such is life on the road. No chirping birds or scantily clad blond bombshells delivering breakfast in bed for me.

But sometimes a giant mound of chili, cheese and eggs at the counter of a Mid-Western culinary landmark will do just fine.

Rating: Bought the Shirt!

Frying Up Thighs, Legs and Ravioli in St. Louis

Porter’s Fried Chicken
3628 S. Big Bend Blvd.
St. Louis, MO
Visited September 20, 2010

Beer selection: None.

Food: “Famous Fried Chicken”

I’m not a chicken guy.

Nope. In the over 10,000 estimated meals I’ve ordered out at restaurants, I can’t recall EVER voluntarily ordering chicken.

To me, there is nothing more unappetizing than a shriveled up, dry-as-the Sahara chicken breast.

Chicken is the nasty boring food you eat at home when you are making a stab at being healthy (once or twice a month in the Suit757 home).

But fried chicken?

That’s a whole ‘nother species of bird all together.

Now I can eat some fried chicken.

Amazing fried chicken can stand out based on any of several criteria: seasoning, crust and…

…grease.

Porter’s fried chicken doesn’t make much of an attempt at excellence on the first two criteria. The chicken is as bland as a Rascal Flats concert, devoid of any seasoning. And the crust is thin and crispy, held tight to the skin.

But on my final greasy measuring stick, Porter’s really stands out.

This is some moist bird, here. And probably explains Porter’s recognition as the best fried chicken in St. Louis.

It didn’t win for atmosphere, that’s for sure.

I bet there are prison dining halls that have more character than this place located in a run down strip shopping center sandwiched between a coin Laundromat and a billiard hall.

The walls are painted blue, not a picture, decoration or depiction of a happy chicken to be found. Old worn wooden paneling and booths fill one side of the place, with the other half dedicated, appropriately enough, to take out.

I was the only “dine-in” patron in the place at peak lunch hour.

Matching the ambiance, or the lack thereof, the chicken -- and toasted ravioli I ordered on the side -- came out of the kitchen almost instantaneously in white non-descript card board boxes.

My two legs and a thigh (I’ve never understood why anyone would prefer dry, boring white meat over moist, succulent dark meat – but then again, like I said, I’m not a chicken guy) was accompanied by fairly forgettable mashed potatoes, coleslaw and roll.

Sad to say, the highlight of the meal was the toasted ravioli, a side dish more indigenous to St. Louis itself than to fried chicken joints.

Toasted ravioli isn’t really toasted – it’s deep fried. Which explains why it is such a dogone tasty St. Louis tradition.

Think meat-stuffed Chef Boyardee thrown in the deep fryer. Then spiced up with Italian seasonings and served alongside warm marinara dipping sauce. Once fried, the “toasted” ravioli are crisp and crunchy on the outside and the meat inside is soft and delicious.

It’s perfect finger food. Dip, crunch, enjoy. Repeat.

In fact, the Toasted Ravioli was so good, it really over-shadowed Porter’s namesake “Famous Fried Chicken”.

But then again, what do I know?

Remember, I’m not a chicken guy.

Rating: Would Wear the Shirt If It Were Free.