Tag Archives: restaurant

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where’s the beef?

crack for fatties in denial

Out working at clients all day… There’s been a surge in projects which means next month will be nice, but in the meantime I’m sitting on a pile of bills and my hands. I hate living hand to mouth.

I seem to have picked up the annoying habit of forgetting my power book’s power adapter.

Did our normal happy hour at JJ’s… The odd weather had even odder folks out – some of which we haven’t seen in a while. Afterward while dropping dvd rentals off I spied from across the street a huge sign in the Jack in the Box window:

“CHICKEN MONSTER TACOS – 99 Cents”

Well then… Considering all the hoopla from the left-coast Monkeytiers about Chicken Monster Tacos, (in response to a a previous non-blog praise of JITB tacos), I insisted we drive through and pick up dinner.

The verdict?………… why bother?

I’d draw a parallel to going to Starbuckos and ordering a double-decalf-skim-frapo-fuck-me-outa-four-dollars,… but…. I’m quite certain that Chicken Monster Tacos have damn near similar fat and calories to their bovine counterparts.

The only difference I could really observe was the shell of CMTs are more orange-red and the meat-paste filling is a taupey-gray rather than the brown-gray. Blindfolded, I’d challenge anyone to discern between the two.

So what’s the motivation? – (*monkeybear squelches urge to light-heartedly poke fun at the “Californian mindset”)

I didn’t take notice to see if there was a price difference between the two… so I don’t think it’s a “Status Thing”.

I suppose while woofing this deep-fried thing down some folks will say… “Hey- but it’s Chicken right?”

Pish..

So I’ll pass on the poultry – bring me the beef…. and no… I’m not blogging.

LIVE

taco-esque

crack for fatties

Thanks to some Australian commercial and a few other distractions, I didn’t get nearly as much done as I would have liked.

cubpower came by the office at the end of the day to pick up some of the residual stuff he left behind when he moved his business to his home last August. We figured since he was in the city, we may as well head down to JJ’s to hit happy hour.

We weren’t there terribly long before hunger overtook us and Chad announced his day-long craving for Jack-in-The-Box.

JITB, is not all over the US as I had assumed. Missouri is one of their furthest east regions. I grew up on the stuff. One of my mom’s and my favorite “treats” was to run out and get a bag of their tacos when I was a kid.

These aren’t like Taco Bell tacos.. No sir. They shipped to the restaurant as pre-meat-stuffed shells which are dropped into the fry bin and cooked till they’re crispy and then removed, a slice of american cheese is added, a smattering a iceberg and a squirt of taco sauce.

The greasy creation is slipped into a paper envelope and served to you still molten on the inside… Simply fucking brilliant.

I woofed down four of them and suddenly had to take a nap. I awoke an hour and a half later with heartburn and completely grossed out because my pores wreaked of Taco.

I was compelled to scrub myself with SOS pads and bleach but a hot shower and Irish Spring sufficed.

Upon emerging from the shower I realized I hadn’t put any fast food in my mouth since the guys were gone over Christmas. Perhaps my body is finally loosing its tolerance for fast food.

Assumptions withstanding – you think I’ll run back out and grab another bag of them the next time the craving hits? You’re damn right!

Think I’d blog about it? – Absolutely not.

LIVE, OBSESS

coneys and root beer

the a&w of poland,… ohio

About two thirds of the way back, we take shortcut back which dumps us out very near Kevin’s sister’s house.

Passing through Poland, Ohio we spot a vintage A&W on the road and despite the ten pounds of breakfast that’s still sitting in our stomachs, I insist we must stop.

There was an identical A&W near to where I grew up in the southern suburbs of St. Louis. This one in Poland was in near-mint condition – including the gas hearth in the middle of the dining area.

The proprietors are so hip to preservation – that they even had a framed collection of the original burger wrapper / bags. The memories that hit me when seeing them nearly knocked me off my stool… I suddenly was transported back to age 5 sitting in the back of my mom’s Opal Cadet anxiously awaiting my “baby burger”.

We all had a coney and a large frosty mug of root beer and I promised I wouldn’t blog obsess about the groovy 70’s package design.

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the dump

best breakfast in Connelsville

Last day in PA, time to start our journey back home – stopping for a day layover back in Ohio with Kevin’s sister. We’re all starting to get homesick… We miss the house… the cats…. A bed with mattress and box springs.

Though this is only our second trip up to the mountains to visit Chad’s family, we’ve already created a parting-tradition. We go to The Dump for breakfast. the dump - interior

The Dump is a low-slung series of 15 x 30 shacks which appear to have been built over time and with no particular emphasis on a “master plan”. The interior is an eclectic mix of styles and local artifacts. The most consistent theme is the “No Swearing” signs posted at regular intervals.

no profanity sign

The food is nothing short of brilliant and stupid cheep. Six bucks and some change gets me an Amish Breakfast: Three eggs, homefries, nine sausage links, eight pieces of toast and gravy.

We’re distracted from homesickness upon getting on the road. It’s sad to say goodbye to PA…

Chad pilfered through his childhood bedroom though before leaving and filled a bag with old cassette tapes. Not long after getting onto the PA turnpike – we were rocking out to Men Without Hats and humming along to our favorite tracks on a copy of Depeche Mode’s Speak and Spell which had been played so many times it sounded like David Gahn was singing through a tin can.

ahhh.. Nostalgia…. Not blog worthy.