I Like Big Buns and I Cannot Lie

Smitty’s Tenderloin Shop

1401 SW Army Post Rd.

Des Moines, IA 50315

We’ve talked quite a bit about the importance of buns on SuitsinStrangePlaces.com.

After all, who wants to bite into an enormous sandwich -- filled with all kinds of wonderful stuff -- and then face sheer heartbreak as a soggy, wimpy bun self-destructs and sends meat-and-cheese ooze dripping down your wrists onto your freshly dry-cleaned Suit?

That’s why I’ve always thought buns are like the offensive lineman of sandwich ingredients. 

They don’t get a lot of notice, but they’re absolutely critical to the success of the “team.”

And like offensive linemen, buns have to be BIG right?

I mean how are little tiny buns going to hold up with an enormous slab of meat shoved between them anyway?

Little did I know my whole bun outlook would be changed at Smitty’s Tenderloin Shop in Des Moines, Iowa.

The pork tenderloin sandwich is a Midwestern staple you can find from Indiana to Minnesota – just one not quite as famous as Chicago’s deep-dish pizza or Cincinnati chili. 

It’s also one of those must-try foods I’d never had the pleasure of sampling and was really looking forward to as I rolled up to Smitty’s that Friday.

Smitty’s has been serving Des Moines, Iowa since 1952. 

And walking in the door, I immediately noticed that the place absolutely reeked of wholesome.

It was as if I walked into a Norman Rockwell painting in the middle of the prayer.

Beside me was an elderly couple sitting quietly eating their fries who looked like they had been coming there since the place opened. 

They were being served by a perky, cute high school girl wearing jeans, and a Smitty’s t-shirt and hat. 

For some reason, she didn’t have any tattoos, or “extra” piercings and she wasn’t “sagging” or otherwise trying to add her personalized rebellious stamp to the Smitty’s uniform.

The cook manning the grill behind the counter was clean-cut, clean-shaven and looked like he probably hadn’t ever done any drugs.

I know what you're thinking . . .

"But I thought drug use was one of the main requirements for being a cook!!!"

True.  So did I.

For this reason, I wasn’t sure what to expect of the food.

When the waitress made it over to my table, I didn’t take long to decide what to order.

I was there for the "King Tenderloin" -- a pork tenderloin sandwich which I ordered basically straight up minus the ketchup.  At Smitty’s that means it comes with mustard and onions.

They also had a version with chili, but I needed to see what the plain Jane was like first before I drifted into the exotic.

I also ordered a size of onion rings which turned out to be fantastic.

To drink, iced tea. 

Of course, this being Des Moines, Iowa, it came unsweet. 

When my pork tenderloin sandwich arrived, I was taken aback.

I’d seen one in photos before, but seeing it in person just boggled the mind.

The fried and breaded meat was so big and so stiff . . . how could the small buns handle it?

Putting the sandwich up to my mouth and biting into it, Suit 69 had a revelation.

This sandwich was totally about the meat.  It wasn’t about the buns.  It wasn’t about the condiments.

It was solely about the meat.

And what can go wrong with fried and breaded pork?

Nothing.

Improvements Suit 69 would recommend?

Given the choice, I’d probably want mayo and a pickle instead of mustard an onion for this bad boy.

Some drippy coleslaw might be a nice touch.

But all that would just be window dressing.

This is pig.  Fried.

And in my book, that’s always going to equal awesome.

Walking out of Smitty’s, I felt like a changed man. 

Maybe, when it comes to buns, it’s not really about the size.

Maybe, just so long as the bun is warm and soft and has the firmness to keep a gigantic slab of meat stiff, maybe they don’t have to be huge after all . . .

Maybe sometime small is juuuuuussssstttt right.

Rating:  Bought the Shirt!

Struggling With Barbecue Bigotry at Smokey D's

Smokey D's BBQ
5055 NW 2nd Street,
Des Moines, IA 50309
(515) 243-2747

I don’t like to talk about it much, but I’ll admit it.

Deep within in the recesses of my heart, lies something I’ve been holding back from Suits in Strange Places readers.

I am a bigot. A barbecue bigot.

The thought of finding good – really good -- barbecue in a state that wore navy blue in the War to Prevent Southern Independence sounds about as likely to me as finding a spine in Tim Pawlenty.

Maybe it’s just a Southern Thang That You Wouldn’t Understand.

But that’s how I feel.

To my surprise, my travel-tested and informed “ignance” got tested at Mr. D’s Barbecue in Des Moines, Iowa when I stopped in for lunch recently.

The place is nice, newish, big and packed.

And it’s also right next to the Harley dealership which is kinda like running across a weasel in Washington, D.C.

Despite being in Iowa, this barbecue joint was in its natural habitat!

Nice.

Entering Smokey D’s, you can’t help but notice the trophy wall . . . and the trophy floor for all the extra awards they just didn’t have room for.

Before ordering at the front counter, I decided to ask the friendly girl at the register what she recommended.

I ended up going with the ribs and brisket basket, potato casserole and coleslaw at her direction.

To drink, sweet tea.

Sitting down at my table, waiting on my order to come out, I couldn’t help but notice the large bar area.

It was lunch, and I wasn’t drinking, but it did appear that the bar area was a pretty happening place with several large TV’s.

Just a couple minutes later, my food was ready.

Both of the sides were very good, but that’s not what Suit 69 rolls up to barbecue joints to eat.

I was there for the meat.

I tried the brisket first.

While it had a nice smoke ring and decent seasoning, it was incredibly dry.


Rule #1 if you’re making brisket is not to dry it out.

Dousing it with sauce helped a little, but it only confirmed my inner bigotry.


“Ha! Is this the best we can get out of a Yankee barbecue joint?” I thought as I quenched my brisket-created thirst with a swig of iced tea.

But then I tried the ribs.

And the moment these ribs hit my taste buds, it sent my head spinning.

They weren’t good.

They were GREAT.

Smokey D’s uses a dry rub and serves their ribs without sauce. It’s slightly sweet, peppery and it allowed the meat to really shine, so I didn’t bother to sauce them.

And unlike the brisket, these ribs were far from dry. In fact, every bite delivered a pop of juicy, smokey pork flavor.

When I started to get full, I just kept on eating until I finished every bite.

I sat there looking at my empty food basket with some regret, I noticed something.
I’ve only had this experience a few times in my life, but after a really good barbecue meal, I’ll often sit there with a stupid smile on my face in a complete sense of utter euphoria.

And on this day, my barbecuegasm came courtesy of Smokey D’s.

The only issue I had now was the rating.

Would I really give a northern barbecue restaurant Suits in Strange Places top rating and put them on par with the soufland’s best?

I looked at the t-shirts on the wall. They were really cool looking.

But then I remembered the brisket.

Would I let the dry brisket slide simply because the ribs were so great?

I’ve done it before.

After all, Suits are never in one place for very long, so we simply can’t rate every item on the menu.

We’re about finding out what a restaurant does best and sticking to it . . . and if I had just ordered the ribs, I never would have known the brisket was dry . . .

But the girl at the register did recommend it.

And everybody needs a crutch.

Rating: Seriously Thought About Buying the Shirt

Uncle Sam Wants You -- To Eat Here!

Kilroy’s Restaurant and Sports Bar
5250-A Port Royal Rd.
Springfield Virginia 22151

“Kilroy was here.” It’s the stuff of legend.

In World War II, shipyard worker James Kilroy was tasked with writing those words to show that he had inspected the riveting on newly-constructed ships.

To the troops in those ships, however, it was a complete mystery -- all they knew for sure was that Kilroy had been there first.

As a joke, troops began placing “Kilroy Was Here” wherever U.S. forces went, claiming it was already there when they arrived.

It became a challenge to place the note in the most unlikely places.

Legend has it that an outhouse was built for the exclusive use of Truman, Stalin, and Churchill at the 1945 Potsdam conference. The first person to use it was Stalin.

When the commie turd emerged from the outhouse, Stalin asked his aide in Russian, "Who is Kilroy?"

Well, it turns out that Kilroy is a restaurant owner right outside Washington, D.C. in Springfield, Virginia – an Irish pub-style bar and grill I rolled up to one evening in search of sustenance.

It’s a happening place, apparently.

By the time I arrived around 8:00 on a Thursday, the bar area was packed, so I had to sit in the dining room.


I was a tad disappointed. When I’m traveling alone, often the highlight of the day is downing a beer and watching “the game” in a restaurant’s bar.

I was happy to see there was a couple of TV’s in the dining room. But that wasn’t what caught my eye.

Perhaps not surprisingly – this is “Kilroy’s” after all – every inch of the entire restaurant is plastered with government war propaganda asking folks to “buy war bonds” or otherwise join the U.S. military effort in World War I and World War II.

Nothing like thinking of people shot up and mangled by bombs to work up an appetite!

In fact, normally something like this would send Suit 69 off on a rant about how Woodrow Wilson and FDR maneuvered the United States into war killing hundreds of . . .

Eh . . . I just decided to take a pass and focus on something more important . . . like ordering a beer . . .

I asked the waiter what they had on tap, and listed off 10 or 12 very impressive beers along with a couple of American puke beers like Budweiser and Coors Light.

I asked for a Dogfish Head 60 Minute IPA and took a look the menu.

That’s where I learned the story of Kilroy while perusing their list of appetizers, burgers, salads and sandwiches.


But I was there for a steak.

I settled on the largest they offered – the 16 Ounce “Owners Cut” Prime Rib cooked rare with garden vegetables to fill up the small portion of the plate not inhabited by meat.

It came with biscuits – which I hadn’t expected -- and a garden salad.

The biscuits had good flavor, but they were more suited for sausage gravy than butter. They crumbled into 100 pieces when I tried to pick one up.

The salad was a salad. It served to keep me from going hungry while I waited on my steak.


While I was waiting, I couldn’t help but notice the creepy Uncle Sam magazine cover, looking as if He in His Good Providence was bestowing liberty on us poor citizens instead of . . .

But instead of finishing that thought, I just ordered another beer.

And soon the meat came.

My steak was cooked perfectly – bloody and dark pink. Like most prime ribs, the edges were where the flavor action was.

It was very nicely seasoned, but the interior of the meat was a little bland. It needed some salt and perhaps a nice au jus bath to dress up the flesh flavor.


Fortunately, Kilroy’s au jus and horseradish cream sauce worked nicely.

Two more Dogfish Heads later, my steak was gone.

It wasn’t the best I’ve ever had.

But every prime rib is special, and a few beers and a steak later, I was feeling pretty good.

As I sat there, I couldn’t help but notice all the kitschy old posters urging American citizens to face down the monsters of the past.


The posters nowadays tell us to remove our laptops from our bags and remove our shoes.

Something tells me we could solve a lot of problems just by not paying any attention to the dadgum posters.

So I did.  And I ordered another beer.

Rating: Would Wear a Free Shirt

When in Rome, Eat in Strip Malls

King Street Blues

Alexandria, Virginia 

As Suit 757 likes to say, there are a few do's and don't's to keep in mind if you want to find the best barbecue around.

First, don't eat barbecue in a strip mall.  Generally speaking, barbecue joints are better the older and rattier they are.

Secondly, sniff the air.  If you don't smell smoke, the barbecue is probably going to be lame.

I normally follow these tasty morsels of advice to the best of my ability. 

But on this particular day, I found myself in Northern, Virginia -- that sprawling traffic and government-employee filled suburb of Washington, D.C.

In times like these, you eat where you can.  The other option is to sit in your car for two hours while you wait for traffic to clear out.

On this particular day, I chose King Street Blues -- a smokeless barbecue joint located right smack-dab in the middle of a strip mall.

The original King Street Blues is located in Old Town Alexandria, just a few miles away.  But considering Northern Virginia traffic, I just decided not to bother even trying to get there.

When I walked into this strip mall barbecue joint, I found that King Street Blues' happy hour lasts until 7:00 PM.  Nice!

Unfortunately, barbecue joints aren't known for having great beer selections, and this place was no different.  I settled for whatever their "house beer" was called.

It tasted remarkably like Budweiser's American Ale.

While waiting for my beer, I took some time to check out the decor.  It's LOUD.

It almost made me want to keep my sunglasses on.  But to tick up the tacky just a tad, King Street Blues also has giant deformed looking paper mache figures everywhere.

One of them I think was supposed to be playing a trumpet.  But I'm pretty sure that you can't get sound out of a trumpet doing what he was doing . . .

Let's just say that was one happy trumpet.

Looking through the menu, I decided on the Roadhouse Nachos.

These are actually homemade potato chips topped with barbecue, spicy beer cheese, tomato, avocado dip, chopped tomato, onion, sour cream and scallions.

Seemed like a safe yet interesting pick for a strip mall barbecue joint.

I also ordered a couple of pork barbecue sliders.

From the decor, I could tell they were going for a Memphis-style barbecue feel.  My guess is their barbecue flavoring was also going to be Memphis-style sweet.
I was hungry too, so I was really looking forward to my food coming out so I could get down to business.

Thankfully, it didn't take long.

I have to admit, I didn't have high expectations for King Street Blues.

But truthfully -- and it pains me to say this -- the Roadhouse Nachos were one of the best things I ever had.

As a barbecue connoisseur, I can't claim that King Street Blues' barbecue is going to be on any top ten contests.

I didn't detect any smoke flavor at all.  The sauce coated the meat much too thoroughly, so the meat flavor was totally overpowered.

But the Roadhouse Nachos was great in an incredibly disgusting, drinking-beer-while-watching-the-game kinda way.

In fact, the only thing I would have changed is that I would have added jalepenos.  After all, how can you have nachos without jalepenos?

The sliders were just "ok."  They suffered slightly from the lack of beer cheese and homemade potato chips as ingredients.

Of course, this one experience doesn't change Suit 757's barbecue rules one bit.

But Washington, D.C. isn't a place that follows the same rules as the rest of the country.

So when in Rome, eat in strip malls.

Rating:  Seriously Thought About Buying Shirt

Tarheel Tuna 'Que in the Belly of the Beast

Nunnery-Freeman Barbecue

1645 Norlina Rd.
Henderson, NC 27536

(252) 438-4751

Don't believe everything you read on the internet.

Sure, it's an incredible tool -- making an amazing amount of information available to users at the click of a button.

But the internet also allows complete morons another avenue to infect our culture with their opinions -- which is probably why Al Gore invented it in the first place.

Unfortunately, Suit 69 fell into the morons' trap recently on a Saturday night drive through North Carolina.

Several websites said Nunnery-Freeman Barbecue in North Carolina was the place to eat for good barbecue.  I believed them.

I have to admit, when I rolled up to Nunnery-Freeman, I didn't smell any smoke.  But I didn't think anything of it. 

The place was almost empty, and they were about to close in an hour.  So I just figured the smoking was done for the day.

I asked for a menu, but didn't waste any time deciding on my order.

I wanted a sweet tea to drink, a plate of NC-style barbecue, coleslaw, fries and hush puppies -- my standard order when in the Tarheel State.

While waiting, I perused the empty tables.  They had several different sauce choices.

Not a good sign, but it's not all that uncommon to see that nowadays.

When my food came out, I took one look at my plate, and I knew something was wrong.

The meat was too uniformly colored.  It was already heavily sauced.  It had the consistency of oatmeal.

Suit 69 had been had.  What was sitting in front of me was one of the most despicable culinary creations known to man.

Tarheel Tuna 'Cue.

You see, like the internet and microwave, many inventions of the past 50 years are designed to allow people to do things faster and faster.

If a little quality is sacrificed along the way, oh well.

That's the basic idea behind the Kook Rite Kooker.

Designed for use in cafeterias, the Kook Rite Kooker allows people to ditch all that time spent tending low-temperature fires and "smoke" barbecue in what amounts to an electric oven with an insert for hickory wood.

In short, it's barbecue by school lunch lady -- and in Suit 69's opinion, not just lame, but a culinary felony.

After all, what makes barbecue so wonderful is the process -- picking the right wood, the right cuts of meat, just the right amount of seasoning and constantly watching a smoldering fire to make sure it doesn't get too hot and burn the meat or too low and turn out a bitter, over-smoked product.

But the Kook Rite Kooker does away with all that, enabling the bastardization of North Carolina-style barbecue I had sitting on my plate in front of me.

In fact, turns out Nunnery Freeman Manufacturing Corporation in Henderson, North Carolina is the company that makes the Kook Rite Kooker.

I was eating at Nunnery-Freeman Barbecue -- more or less their company restaurant.

Maybe if I had spent a little more time on the internet, I could have found that out beforehand.

But doesn't Kook Rite Kooker barbecue still taste pretty good, you ask?

Aren't you just too much of a barbecue purist to be able to give an objective opinion about the taste?

Maybe it's not authentic, but couldn't someone who's not quite as picky about barbecue kinda like it?

No.  It sucks.  And unless you have the strange habit of eating cat food, you would assuredly agree.

The truth is, it makes North Carolina-style barbecue taste like warm canned tuna with a little sugar mixed in.

Now, as Suit 757 likes to say, eating barbecue is like having sex.  Even when the barbecue isn't top-notch, it's still pretty nice to have, right?

Maybe so.  But eating Tarheel Tuna 'Cue is like having sex with a partially deflated blow up doll with AIDS.

In fact, it might have even been a dude blow up doll. 

Fortunately, the coleslaw, fries and tea satisfied my hunger and helped me make it through the rest of the drive.

But the very sight of Tarheel Tuna 'Cue still haunts me every waking moment.

So, again, don't believe everything you read on the internet -- unless you find it on SuitsinStrangePlaces.com.

RATING:  Clean Kook Rite Kooker With Shirt and Sell on Craigslist

Lexington Barbecue Gets Straight Outta Compton

Lexington Barbecue 
10 US Hwy 29 70 S
Lexington, NC 27295
(336) 249-9814

When God was handing out teeth to all us humans, He neglected to give me a sweet tooth.

Instead, I got two salty teeth.

I'm not saying God made a mistake. 

After all, I was lucky enough to get a full set -- unlike some poor folks in West Virginia.

But it's no exaggeration to say I'd rather people sing happy birthday to me around a bag of potato chips than a cake.

So it shouldn't be a surprise that I like North Carolina-style barbecue.  A lot.

I like the saltiness.  I like the smoked pork.  I love the way the heat from the red pepper flakes work with the vinegar to dance on my tongue.

In fact, North Carolina-style barbecue may just be my favorite food in the world.

Despite all that, I had never been to Lexington Barbecue.

If you travel and know anything about barbecue at all, you have to be living under a rock not to know about this restaurant.

It has been featured on the Food Network, makes all the "Top Ten" barbecue lists, and is virtually always the only representative from North Carolina.

I may have a chip on my shoulder, but I believe this is because some folks are North Carolina-style barbecue bigots.

I think they look down on this particular regional variation.

It's too hot for some.  Too tangy for others.  Others think it's not sweet enough.

So whenever I see one of these lists, I think to myself the authors just included Lexington Barbecue because they think North Carolina-style barbecue HAS to be represented.

They need a "token."  They need an affirmative action pick.

So naturally, walking into Lexington Barbecue, I had some questions about the place.

Did Lexington Barbecue sell out and cater to Da Man to get on these lists?

Was dey house barbecue?

Or did Lexington Barbecue make it out of 'cue Compton and into the Big Time by sheer will, determination, hard work and flavor?

Well, I was about to find out.

It was late Friday afternoon when I arrived at the restaurant -- after the lunch rush, but before the dinner crowd.

At that point, only about a quarter of the tables in the restaurant were filled.

I was happy about that.  Suit 69 likes eating at good places, but he doesn't like dealing with huge crowds.

The very friendly waitress walked over and handed me a menu.

While looking it over, I couldn't help but notice there was no sauce choices on the table.

You were going to get their one sauce and either like it or not.

That's a good sign, I thought.  We gots North Carolina-style barbecue militants up in here!

You could get their barbecue sliced, chopped or chopped thickly.  I opted for the thickly chopped version.

The dinner also came with a choice of hush puppies or rolls, so I opted for hush puppies.

It didn't take long at all for my food to arrive, which was great.  I was starving.

My first bite was of the hush puppies.  They were nice and crispy and had good flavor.

The second bite was of the slaw.  It wasn't the mayonnaise-based white slaw most folks are used to.
 
Instead, they serve North Carolina red slaw, which is vinegar-based and bites you back.

Third, I tried a fry.  It tasted like a fry.

Then I had a sip of sweet tea before I dug into the barbecue.


Since North Carolina-style sauce is very thin, it doesn't coat meat.

Instead, it gets absorbed.

For that reason, the chunks of barbecue on the top of my plate were the least likely to have much sauce flavor, so that's where I started.

For that first bite, I just wanted to taste the meat.

It was great.  It had a solid smoke flavor -- but not too much.  It wasn't dry either.  It was just about perfect.

For the second bite, I mixed the meat up in the sauce.

It was awesome.  It had a touch of heat, a nice vinegar tang and was just salty enough to bring out the smoky pork flavor without killing it.

I couldn't help but beat back a smile.

Yeah.  Lexington Barbecue deserves it's place on those lists.  What's better is that they got there staying true to NC 'cue.

I'll admit they've got street cred with this North Carolina-style barbecue lover. 

They ain't sold out to Da Man, so count Suit 69 in as a fan.

I finished my meal as slowly as I possibly could to savor every last bite and walked up the cash register to pay.

While I was up there, I asked for a shirt.  "That'll be $7.00," the lady behind the cash register said.

$7.00!   Wow. 

For the folks out there that haven't been to Lexington Barbecue yet, next time you're cruising down I-85 in North Carolina, stop at Lexington Barbecue.

You'll be glad you did -- and I bet you'll be walking out with a shirt too.

Rating:  Bought the Shirt!

Tidewater's Top Dog?

Hot Dog King
Newport News, VA


Wouldn't it be great to be able to recapture that feeling you used to get seeing all those presents under the tree?

Imagine being seven again, knowing Christmas day was coming and soon you'd be ripping off wrapping paper and staring at whatever wonderful new toy Santa brought you?

"Like a kid before Christmas," as the saying goes.

It's tough though.  As grown men and women, "we've seen it all."  It can be tough to recapture that titillating feeling for anything.

Well, except for Gus' Hot Dog King.

They've recently opened a shiny new joint in Williamsburg, VA -- but the Newport News location is the original.

Around since 1972, it's become an institution. 

And eating at Hot Dog King is one of those things Suit 69 can get excited for.

Needless to say, they specialize in hot dogs.  And you can get just about whatever you want on 'em.

There's the usual ingredients -- onion, relish, cheese, sauerkraut.  Then some extras like cole slaw and jalepenos.  But their homemade chili is where its at.

I was pretty hungry when I rolled up to Hot Dog King.  But that was by design.  I'd been planning for a few days to make sure I was ready for some good old-fashioned gluttony.

You see, only rookies show up unprepared.

Their menu isn't huge, but it has all you'd ever want.

Hot dogs.  Chili burgers.  North Carolina-style barbecue.

They even have chicken sandwiches in case you are the kind of person that goes to Hot Dog King to order a chicken sandwich.

"Morons," I think they are called.

Nothing on the menu is more than $2.00-$3.00.

So it's cheap place to grab lunch during the week, while also allowing you to mix and match different things and try a bit of everything without breaking the bank if you want a little more.

That's exactly what Suit 69 did.

I ordered a footlong hot dog with chili, mustard and onion, a chili burger and some onion rings.

The waitress was great.  You could tell she was a "pro."

Hearing my order, she told me she'd be bringing out my onion rings and hot dog first, and then my chili burger a few minutes later.

Burgers take longer to cook, after all, and she didn't want my hot dog to get cold.


There's no doubt about it, quality service is one of the main things that makes a top tier dining experience.

The other main thing is the food.

That test began as soon as my hot dog and onion rings showed up.

Of course, the onion rings were solid, but the hot dog is what shined.

First, the bun is steamed, rendering it just warm, soft and moist enough to softly cradle all twelve inches of the King's weiner -- but not soggy enough to explode in your hand.

Like I mentioned, the chili is their specialty.  Its meaty, smoky and is a nice compliment to their hot dogs.
 
The onions?  They stood up for themselves, which was a pleasant surprise. They weren't the super sweet, sugary variety.  Their flavor held up even against the mustard and chili.

Now, the most important part -- the hot dog.  It was incredible.  It literally snapped and burst with that wonderful hot doggy processed meat juice on every bite.

All together, it added up to incredible.

I was feeling pretty stuffed when my chili burger came out.  But I made work of it too.  The truth is, the chili burger was good, but hamburger meat can kind of disappear in the chili.  It needed some more mustard to hang.

So, sitting there in my suit, feeling kind of like a water balloon, I was done.  There was absolutely nothing in the entire world that could get me to eat one more bite.

Except for funnel cake fries.

I saw the sign for them, and I had no choice.



Funnel cakes are one of the world's most amazing foods.

But every time you see them, it's either at a baseball game and they're $14 a plate -- or it's at a state fair and its 104 degrees outside and just thinking about eating them makes you want to hurl.
 
But Hot Dog King's Funnel Cake Fries lived up to the hype.

After all, they were sugar in it's best form.  Fried.

Fearing what was now Ocean Liner 69 would collapse the chair I was sitting on, I slowly rose, waddled up to the cash register and paid.

I ate all that for right around $10.  Not bad at all.

I would have gladly paid a few bucks more for the shirt, but I looked around and they don't sell them apparently.

Maybe next month, when I'm hungry again, Suit 69 will roll back up to Hot Dog King to see if they've changed that policy.  And maybe grab a bite to eat while I'm there.

Rating:  Bought the Shirt!

No Burn at the Beach

Buffalo Beach

Virginia Beach, VA

Wings.  Everyone has them nowadays.

You don't even have to go to a "real" sit-down restaurant.  You can just zip through a KFC drive through or call Pizza Hut and have them deliver.

But just because there are wings everywhere, that doesn't mean it's easy to find good ones.

In fact, it's not easy.  It's dang hard -- even for Suit 69.

Well, one particular afternoon just before Christmas, I once again had the hankerin' for hot wings and cold beer, and I rolled up to Buffalo Beach in Virginia Beach, Virginia to get my fix.

Buffalo Beach is located a few miles from the oceanfront strip in an area known as Hilltop.  Because of it's location, it's not necessarily a full-time touristy area.

It's basically the area where locals with a few bucks and affinity for strip malls do their shopping and eating.

While the whole area was jam-packed with folks doing some last-minute holiday shopping, Buffalo Beach was dead when I rolled up. 

In fact, despite being lunch time, there were only two other tables of patrons.

Normally, this isn't a good sign.  "But at least I'll get good service," I thought as I looked over the menu.

Buffalo Beach's wing menu was impressive.  They have wings just about any way you'd want them -- lemon pepper, Old Bay -- everything.  Nice.

When the waiter rolled up, I asked what they had on tap.  He listed 4-5 American puke beers and a Richmond area favorite -- Legend Brown Ale, and Charlottesville's Starr Hill Jomo Lager.

I've always avoided "Jomo Lager" primarily because I wasn't sure if the "J" was pronounced with an "H" sound.


Turns out it's not.  Whew.

I ordered a Jomo Lager and 10 hot wings.

Unfortunately, this was a rookie mistake.

You see, according to Buffalo Beach's rating system, "hot" is the lowest sauce you can order.

So, in effect, what I actually ordered was wings safe for toddlers.

Despite having no flavor, I guess they weren't bad.

And the Jomo Lager was decent.  It's a light amber style beer with some good fruit notes.  I liked it.

For my second beer, I ordered a Straub Special Dark while I decided on what sandwich to order.

I settled on a Pittsburger -- sausage, onions, peppers, egg, ground beef and cheese.


Unfortunately, despite having literally no customers, it took forever for my food come out.


So I was stuck with my Straub and an examination of the decor.

As for the beer, even despite being dark, the Straub had only minimal flavor.  I was disappointed.

The decor was hardly an improvement.

Turns out, despite having probably 15 TVs, Buffalo Beach has only one that's high def -- and it's located behind the bar where the fewest possible people could see it.

The rest are old-fashioned tubes.

Buffalo Beach markets itself as the place to "catch the game," so I thought this was a little surprising.

Of course, they do have a giant projection TV which helps a little, but you better hope it's turned to your game.

As for the rest, there are gigantic photos of old rich dudes posing on the beach all over the bar.

My guess is, they're the owners.

Nothing says "partay" like photos of old white rich guys on the wall.

At least their oldness was offset by the fact that one TV was turned to Spongebob whose job seemed to be to suck whatever remaining "cool" Buffalo Beach had out of the place.

Fortunately, my sandwich finally came out which gave me something else to look at.

And the Pittsburger is something to behold.

If I had one complaint about it, it's that it's pretty dry and overcooked.

I fixed it by adding some mayo, but it definitely could have used a couple minutes less on the grill.

It was good.  Not great.

There's some things about Buffalo Beach I like.  But all in all, it's your standard strip mall restaurant.

It gets the job done, but you won't remember it the next day -- and not because you had a really good time.


Rating:  Would Wear a FREE Shirt

Giving Dive Bars a Bad Name

Hiatt House
Livingston, Montana

Experience has taught Suit 69 that a good rule of thumb to follow when looking for restaurants is find someplace that's been around awhile.

If the sign outside says "since 1973,"  it's probably good.

If it says "since 1923," it's probably better.

So when I crashed through the doors of the Hiatt House in Livingston, Montana looking to drain a couple of cold ones, I thought I'd be in for a treat.

The place screamed "dive bar."

The building was obviously old and worn down.  The interior lighting was bad.  The floors were ripped linoleum.

The bar top wasn't wood.  It wasn't granite.

In fact, it was barely even Formica.

It looked like spray-painted particle board.

Not necessarily a bad start.  In fact, all these things could be good.

Restaurants and bars that don't spend money on decor usually offer really good food or really good times.

But when I saw the one television in the place -- not even turned to sports -- I thought to myself, "Whoa.  This could go either way."

I sat down, and struck up a conversation with the bartender, asking him how long they'd been there.  He just said, "years and years."

"Nice," I thought.  

I ordered a shot of Jim Beam and asked the bartender what his beer selection was like.

"Budweiser.  Bud Light.  Miller Light.  Coors Light."

Whaaaaaaat?

Some areas in the country, this is normal.  But Montana is in the Northwest United States.

Walk into any gas station in this area and you see one beer cooler with American puke beers and three others devoted solely to microbrews.

Not having even a single craft beer on tap is unacceptable to say the least -- especially because Hiatt House is ONLY a bar and doesn't even serve food.

I ordered a pint of Coors Light to go with my Beam.

When the bartender came back, he said "$9.50."

"Whaaaaaat?" I thought.  That's pretty steep for a beer and a shot at a dive bar.

Just the a couple of nights earlier, I went to a much nicer bar across the street -- The Mint -- that had a much better beer selection and was cheaper too.

And isn't the WHOLE POINT of dive bars getting hammered without breaking the bank?

Nevertheless, I reached into my wallet, pulled out my card and asked to start a tab.

"We don't take plastic.  There's an ATM over there if you don't have cash."

Whaaaaaaat?

Really?

Crappy beer selection, lame decor, one TV, high prices AND they don't take plastic?

I looked around, and the answer is no.  There were no strippers and you could not buy drugs.

I have no idea how they stay in business.

I drained my beer and my shot, paid and left.

Suit 69 is ok with a little lameness. 

After all, every "dive bar" has to have its own special crappiness to give it character and make it lovable -- like having to hit the bathroom door a special way to get it to open or something.

But when there isn't even a bathroom and you have to pee in the jukebox, they're not so lovable any more.


Rating:  Clean Grill With Shirt