Classic Dishes...

Eat A Bag Tonight

Dick’s is the place where the cool hang out
The swass like to play, and the rich flaunt clout
Posse to the burger stand, so big we walk in twos
We’re gettin’ dirty looks from those other sucka’ crews

                                                — Sir Mix-A-Lot, Posse On Broadway

On this day 55 years ago, Dick Spady opened his first burger stand in the Wallingford district here in Seattle.

When I first moved here, I actually did drive the tour linked in the song title above. Hindsight being 20/20, I’m now glad I did it during the daytime.

We here at Chez Fred salute the only restaurant in Seattle whose name is as fun to say as their food is to eat.

Fo’ Shizzle

I’m quite the connoisseur of Mongolian barbecue, and Engrish almost always makes me giggle. So you can imagine my delight to come across these instructions found at Kiro-Hitsuji, a purveyor of fine Mongolian cuisine in Japan.

The highlight:

“Spread the meat to the grill with fizzle to the sizzle. Wait ‘til the meat get smokin’ flava with da juice drippin’ to charcoal, then eat up with dippin’ to da bangin’ special soy sauce.”

Ah, yeah! Who knew Genghis Khan was all gangsta an’ shit?

Gather ‘Round The…Wait, What?

Overheard while on line this afternoon at Papa Murphy’s, picking up a pizza for dinner:

“If you want cheap [pizza], Pizza Time. If you want good, Pizza Hut.”

A small part of me died inside.

(By the way, that cheesesteak pizza you see on the front page of the Papa Murphy’s site? Pretty good.)

I’m Having A Ball

The 2008 Beijing Olympics get underway a week from today, but the media is already getting their coverage underway. Meet Garry Linnell of the Sydney Daily Telegraph, as he pays a visit to Guolizhuang, a Beijing restaurant that specializes in a rather, erm, unique cut of meat:

(Okay, guys, maybe I shouldn’t have used the word “cut” up there. Ouch.)

I’ll get the gag out of the way so you don’t have to: this brings new meaning to the invitation to eat a bag of Dick’s.

(Okay, ladies, maybe I shouldn’t have used the word “gag,” either…)

Daaaa Bears!

I discovered today that Carl’s Jr. now offers a Chili-Cheese (Double or Six-Dollar optional) Burger. And, hey, so long as we’re doing that, let’s dump some on the fries, too! They also now have a Cap’n Crunch milkshake. I remember way back that Planet Hollywood used to use crushed-up Cap’n as a breading for their chicken fingers (in fact, I see they still do), but this was the first time I had seen it as a dessert mix-in.

It’s like they’re basing their entire marketing strategy around how heart-attack-inducing their meals are.

Fun little puzzle (although I did a lot of the work for you above): Go to the Carl’s Jr. Nutritional Calculator. Using only one entree item (burger, breakfast item, or other sammich…you could use a salad if you want, but you won’t want to – keep reading), a single side, a single dessert, and ONLY LOGICAL EXTRAS (you must be able to make a case as to why it would be desirable with that meal), see if you can cobble together a meal that clocks in at over 3000 calories. It CAN be done!

(I am SO going to Fatburger tomorrow night for dinner.)

At Least I Have Chicken

As I’d mentioned before, last week I was back in California, visiting the ‘rents and taking in the San Jose Sharks‘ first two games of the season. And while I did wax poetic (if briefly) about the best burrito in the world, I’m sure you were hoping I would bring back a truly wacky food story. Well, I’d hate to disappoint, so:

I landed in San Jose on Sunday afternoon, got my rental car, and drove up to Fremont to have dinner with a friend. On the way to this delicious little Chinese cafe in Union City, we passed by this odd little place in a stripmall called Jollibee. I found it curious; it was a chain I’d never heard of before.

After dinner, driving back, we pass by it again, and I ask my dining companion what the heck Jollibee is. And she can’t really tell me, aside from the news that they have “a really weird menu…you can order burgers, but you can also order chicken and spaghetti.” I nod my head, making a mental note to look it up online when I got home, and then promptly forgetting said note. (This is why I carry a PDA. Which I’d also forgotten to make a note in.)

Fast forward to Thursday afternoon, and I’m in San Jose, where I would spend the rest of my trip, getting some cash out of the ATM at my bank. And in driving away, I see another Jollibee. Now I’m doubly curious, and I make a note to Google this when I get to the motel I’d booked with the complimentary wireless Internet.

And the wireless Internet at the motel is down, won’t give me an IP address, and would not work the whole three days I was there. (That’s the fabulous Vagabond Inn, screwing travellers out of advertised ameneties since 1958. Don’t go there.)

So I’m left curious. And now we get to Saturday, and I have a jonesing for Wienerschnitzel, because it’s something I can’t get in Washington. So down we head to Tully Road, and I discover that my Wienerschnitzel has turned into a Hawaiian BBQ. (And I think we all know how painful that can be.) So I get a bright idea: there’s this funky place I keep seeing called Jollibee, all I’ve been told is that the menu is weird, but there must be something edible on it, it’s just down the road, so let’s go there! My companion agrees, and off we go.

You’ll note I haven’t linked to the restaurant’s Web site yet, mainly because I wanted to set up the story and have The Four Of You experience it just as I did, when I first walked in. As it happens, Jollibee is the most popular fast food restaurant in the Philippines, and now you can see what I did…a menu consisting of burgers, fried chicken, a hot dog, spaghetti, a mound of rice, hamburger patties, and gravy not that far afield from what the Hawaiians call locomoco, and something called palabok, which from the picture on the menu (and please remember that this is the picture taken specifically to make me want to eat it) looked not at all unlike what would happen if someone ate ground beef, hard-cooked eggs, and shrimp, and then puked it up onto a pile of rice noodles.

Esoteric enough, right? Well, now we get to the item names: Yumburgers. Jolly Spaghetti. Palabok Fiesta. The Jolly Hotdog. Burger Steak. And, finally, the name that is haunting me to this day…”Chickenjoy”. But I’ll get to that later.

So we order our food, first my dining companion, and then myself. She goes for a Yumburger and fries, and I opt for the Burger Steak, since I had locomoco on the brain since seeing the Hawaiian place. It is delivered to me on the ubiquitous orange fast food tray, and off I go into the dining area.

Upon arrival, my companion alerts me to the yellow Wet Floor sign that we’ve all seen a million times. And I am indeed mindful, and yet the second my feet hit that section of the tile floor, they fly out from under me and I’m on the ground.

Miraculously, I have managed to do all of this without spilling either my Burger Steak or my drink, and I’ve hurt nothing but my pride, but approximately 47 people are there to help me up at this point, despite all attempts on my part to wave them off and reassure them that I was fine…

…and apparently each and every one of those 47 people decide they need to stop by our table while we’re attempting to enjoy our lunch to reconfirm that I am in fact unharmed. In the meantime, I’m looking for a nearby hole to crawl into. I realize now that they’re all petrified that I’m going to sue them…

…and this suspicion is confirmed when the manager shows up with a clipboard, upon which is what must have been a hastily-written and no-way-in-nine-blue-hells-legally-binding release. At first I balk at signing it, irritated at the constant badgering, but then decide that I’d like very much for them to go away and let us finish our lunch, and since I had no intention of pursuing any legal action anyhow, scrawled my name and handed it back.

(Upon retrospect, I realize two things: 1) They had no idea who I was. I could have signed “Fred Smythe”, “Dick Hertz”, or taken some inspiration from our good friend “Mike Litoris“, and they would have been none the wiser. And, 2) I shouldn’t have signed it. They were saying that if I didn’t they would insist on taking me to the hospital, but short of sending out half of the WWE’s tag-team division, they weren’t making me go anywhere that I didn’t want to, and if they did, that would have been the makings of a fine lawsuit unto itself. But I didn’t want to embarrass my companion by making a scene, so no harm, no foul.)

Anyhow, back to our meal, which I think we’re going to be able to finish in peace. But here comes the manager again, and now she wants to give us free food to take with us. Specifically, she wants us to try the “Chickenjoy” and hopefully spread the good word about their restaurant. (I’m guessing she didn’t realize that ship had already sailed when she shoved the pen under my nose in the midst of a forkful of Burger Steak.) And I reassure her that everything is fine and we’d just like to finish our lunch and be on our way, but she’s having none of it.

And that’s how it came to pass that we had two pieces of Original and two pieces of Spicy Chickenjoy in the fridge back at the motel later that day, some of which was consumed the following morning while we were getting our things together to check out.

It wasn’t bad.

Missed It Byyyy……About 1,000 Miles

Strange lunchtime experience today.

I’m driving over to the steam-table Chinese place I frequent to get some food, and I’m totally on autopilot. I park, get out of the car, and walk inside…

…to find myself spang in the middle of what is now a teriyaki joint. I literally had to consciously stop the two-item-combo order from tumbling out of my mouth anyhow.

Apparently they dropped their franchise (the Chinese place was a chain) and decided to go All Japanese, All The Time. Mind, all of the decoration and what not from the previous place was there, but the steam tables and the menu were now changed.

So, teriyaki, what the hell, fine. And I get outside, and turn around, to discover that the logo on the door and the main sign over the place had in fact been replaced by two large signs reading “TERIYAKI”. So I suppose I had fair warning, had I not been lost in my own little dreamworld.

Like I said, strange.

Sundae Bloody Sundae

So, because I’m a foodie, I like looking at restaurant menus online, particularly of regional places I don’t have access to because I live in the Pacific Northwest, like Waffle House or Sonic Drive-In.

Well, this morning I found myself surfing to a Midwestern chain called Cracker Barrel that has been around for some time, but I’ve never seen one, much less dined in one, because they just aren’t out here in the West. And the food is what you expect, and looks pretty good – chicken and dumplings, biscuits and gravy, chicken fried steak, the usual hearty fare.

You will see me make fun of Midwesterners a lot here, because my mom grew up in Iowa, and that qualifies me to do so, I think. And I’m not gonna let you down here. After looking at these scrumptious looking dinners, I got to the desserts.

Specifically, the Frozen Mug Ice Cream Sundae. SOUNDS like a good concept, yes? Sounded damned good to me. I read on:

“Hot Fudge, Caramel, Chocolate, Strawberry, Blackberry, or Sorghum Molasses… topped with whipped cream, roasted almonds, and a cherry.”



I will point out that for all of their cooking skillz (and they do have skillz, so long as you don’t wander into the fog known as “ethnic cuisine”) these are a people who still haven’t figured out how to make a decent loaf of French bread, and are known to use ketchup as a viable substitute for tomato sauce, but by all that is good and holy, MOLASSES DOES NOT GO ON ICE CREAM.

Remind me not to eat at Cracker Barrel.

Los Golden Arches

So here’s a scary thought for ya: The other day, I took a day off from work to handle some personal bidness, and found myself in the vicinity of a McDonals around lunchtime. So, I go through the drive-thru, and I’m lookin’ at the New Tastes menu, which is basically “weird shit you thought you’d never see at a McD’s”, and I see they have beef and chicken soft tacos. (McOle!) For some reason, this appealed to me, so I got a couple chicken tacos.

The sad thing is, they were at least ten times better and more authentic than anything I’d ever gotten at Taco Bell. I realize this isn’t saying much, but c’mon, this is McD’s here.

I suppose we should keep an eye out for the foray into other ethnicities. McPho? McSushi? McCurry?