Fixin' Supper

  CreekCreekBam  [Not in that order]

Today is my 35th birthday!! I have had so many nice cards, phone calls, IMs and emails. Thank you all. One of the ways I celebrated was reliving a long-time tradition. I realized the other day that I’ve been eating at SATCO for 20 years. In case you’re thinking that place has been here forever, well, at least that long. Because the first time I ate there, I was at Vandy for a prospective student weekend when I was 15.

Anyway, my friend Andrew and I went to Vandy together. He’s also friends with my [she would insist that I say] much younger sister, so the three of us have lunch from time to time. We ended up picking today because it worked for the three of us, but it was especially fun for me to spend my birthday with two of my favorite people.

When I was a senior in college, some of my friends decided we should make the most of the year, and declared that every Friday we’d hold "SATCO hour." So we started around 11 a.m. every Friday, with a bucket of beer, chips and cheese, and occasionally other food. The hour usually lasted all afternoon. SATCO hour was always held on the porch, but we went way into the dead of winter, and picked up again at the very first hint of spring. Many, many classes were skipped due to SATCO hour. Of course, most of us had just arranged our classes around this plan in the first place.

Note: I took a lot of pictures in college and I got out my albums the other night, thinking I’d find a fun one of SATCO hour from 1992-93 to post here, a la Busy Mom’s wedding day photo. Alas, while I had many photos of my friends at SATCO, I’d neglected to pass off the camera. I must protect the guilty, so I won’t be posting photos of other people who were drinking when possibly they should have been in class. I will add that all are now gainfully employed.

I still eat at SATCO a few times every year; I try to go in the summer when school is out. I guess I’ve gotten old and cranky enough I prefer to avoid those college kids [and the long line] when I can. But we had a fabulous time today. And SATCO is unchanging — the menu, the wobbly, sticky tables, the Steve Miller-era soundtrack — all your old favorites.

  Yappin’ Good Time 

This post is hereby dedicated to my friends and erstwhile coworkers Will and Clint, they of Emma fame, who introduced me to the Yappin’ Good Time a long time ago.

Despite my well-known and long-standing love of many kinds of hot dog, and despite their entreaties about this heavenly meal, I resisted the Yappin’. Too much meat? Well that couldn’t have been it. Anyone who declares spring open by the arrival of chili dogs can’t look askance at a little extra meat.

I’d really like to think it’s just my love of the potato pancakes [latkes to you Yankees, Jewish food connoisseurs and others who actually know what you're talking about] that kept me away from this delight for so long.

But you, my Internet friend, should rush right over to the new location (right in this area) of Goldie’s Deli, ever so close to the Fixin’ Supper daytime location, and order up. It’s a Hebrew National dog, with cheddar cheese, wrapped in pastrami and a bun, and fried on the grill til it’s piping hot. Magic, I tell you.

One of my favorite restaurants in the world is in Austin, Texas. And I learned from my boss Rex this morning, and from an LA Times article, that they’re likely going to tear it down to build a 3-hotel megacomplex. I discovered Las Manitas by happenstance a couple of years ago. I was at SXSW-Interactive and the food in the convention center was pitiful. I had about an hour before my first session started, so I asked the lady at the information desk where I could get a decent breakfast. She said, "Well if it were me, I’d just walk the four blocks to Las Manitas." So I did and it was fantastic. I went back later for lunch. The restaurant’s food is incredible…simple, homecooked Mexican cuisine…but the atmosphere of the place really adds to the experience. It’s got a lunch counter, a front room crowded with booths and tables [Nashville, think Vandyland --another great restaurant gone -- with great Mexican food], but the coolest part is the open-air courtyard in the back. You walk through the kitchen to sit there.

Hopefully this isn’t the end for Las Manitas, but it doesn’t look good.

Sonic
Originally uploaded by lcreekmo.

Last night I let the 7yo talk me into going to Sonic. So I ended up with one of my regular orders. Except look what they did. For some reason, when I ordered the Frito chili pie, they decided to super-size me. I didn’t know Sonic had gotten on that train, but there it is. It’s the size of two regular chili pies. Don’t worry; I ate less than half.

Tim Morgan has been gone from the blog world for far too long, my friends. It’s been more than two months since his last post, and we have been waiting patiently. Patiently. And it was well worth the wait.

We must also thank Dr. Funkenswine, proprietor of Mothership BBQ, for inspiring such a masterpiece, for providing the fuel to the fire, as it were.

Those of you who know me best are doing a double-take right now to read any sort of coffee-related news on this blog. My personal experience with coffee lasted less than 2 months at Vanderbilt, after which time I realized that my body had made the executive decision to sleep in after pulling all-nighters working on the school paper, and it would no longer be force-fed any more coffee, thank you very much. My continuing apologies to Professor Eakin and all the other wonderful teachers whose classes I squeaked through. It wasn’t you.

Undoubtedly the java at Portland Brew would have been a bit more helpful at getting me to class than the sludge I was consuming so many years ago. And these days, those bleary-eyed folks stumbling out of the house in East Nashville every early a.m. have yet another caffeinated option. Portland Brew is open on Eastland Avenue! From PB staffer Kevin Newman’s email to the neighborhood this afternoon:

There is nowhere to sit, something is wrong with the phone, and we don’t have our full menu available yet, but the new Portland Brew Coffee on Eastland and Scott is now open for business. We will be adding more furniture and equipment as it is shipped in, and we should have the same sandwiches and muffins and treats as our other stores very soon. The upstairs seating area won’t be open until we do a bit more construction, and that will probably come last. We do have Wi-Fi.

I became a PB customer when their second location opened down the street from my office, on Murphy Road, several years ago. I know many East Nashvillians are excited about the arrival of a late-night, non-bar hangout. With wifi, no less!

Welcome to the ‘hood.

Well lots of folks here today are all abuzz about the article in the Tennessean announcing that the airport authority is considering a proposal to include a number of local, mostly independent, Nashville restaurants in the upcoming renovation of the airport facility.

The Nashville airport has long been a place where you could go to starve for hours, a massive concourse unmarred by culinary interest of any sort. Part of my problem with their past attempts to inject local interest in the form of barbecue or other semi-enticing restaurants has been that they’ve done one-shot deals, with limited hours. Inevitably they’d have a barbecue restaurant open at 10 a.m. on Sunday for instance, not a bagel in sight. Where’s the logic?

I hope this will help. It’s been quite disheartening to fly to other cities in the past five or six years and see really great airports with amazing facilities, great places to eat, free wifi….heck, the list goes on.

  Mothership BBQ 
  Originally uploaded by lcreekmo.

The kids and I ate at Mothership BBQ at long last on Monday, July 3, sort of a pre-July 4 celebration. Actually my dad spent this afternoon explaining to us that July 4 is wrong anyway; that the Continental Congress passed the Declaration on the 2nd and it was signed weeks later. I said, "So what is July 4th? A clerical error?" Well he couldn’t remember or it didn’t say where he read about it, so we were left to wonder.

Back to the point, MSBBQ got a big thumbs-up from everyone. We met Jim — a great guy! — and we REALLY enjoyed his food. I had barbecue with potato salad and chips (can’t have too many carbs in one meal, I always say) and the 7yo tried the pinto beans with her ‘cue. Too peppery for her, but I assure you, they are delicious.

The 11mo ate everything we gave him and would have kept going but we had to get back to Home Depot. We bought the paint we need to paint the whole inside of our house! Now, I don’t know when we are going to actually paint, but we have taken step one.

Well I’ve apparently let my blog really lapse since the 10mo came home in March. Frankly, in my head I still post all the time so I had no idea I was falling down on the job so badly. I apologize, if there is in fact anyone still reading. Besides my mom. (Hi, Mom!)

I ran across a new BBQ joint on the web today. Sounds funny but it’s true. I haven’t even had a chance to check it out yet but this guy is blogging his restaurant, so how can you go wrong?

I will report back as soon as I know more. Meanwhile, check out Mothership BBQ!

I know I said the last time I wrote on this topic that I wouldn’t be doing so again. In fact, I called it "The Last Post on Barbecue." But I’ve been reading David Plotz’s barbecue pilgrimmage diary all week in Slate and so I can’t just leave it out there without saying something.

A. The guy disses on Memphis big-time. I’m not sure why he expected to find real West Tennessee barbecue at two of the most touristy restaurants in the city. Sigh. Go with a native next time, will ya?

B. The best part of the whole series is the exchange between the author and some security agents at the Austin airport at the end of his trip. They’ve caught Plotz with a jar of Kansas City BBQ sauce in his bag and let him have it:

At the Austin airport, I was singled out for a special security screening. The TSA agent fingering through my bag pulled out a jar of barbecue sauce I had bought at Gates in Kansas City. "What’s this?" she asked.

"It’s barbecue sauce," I said.

"I know it’s barbecue sauce. I mean, what kind of sauce is it? I’ve never seen this kind before."

"It’s from Kansas City."

She grimaced at this. Holding the jar like it contained C-4 explosive, she showed it to another screener. "Look, this guy has some kind of barbecue sauce from New York City or something," she told the other screener derisively.

"Kansas City," I weakly interrupted.

She waved me off, then said in an ominous voice. "Now, why would you have that?"

"I was on a barbecue tour," I answered. "I started in Kansas City, and finished here."

"Did you go to Rudy’s?" she asked.

I shook my head.

"You came to Texas for barbecue, and you didn’t go to Rudy’s?" She turned to her partner. "He came to Texas, and he didn’t go to Rudy’s!" The partner shook his head.

"What about the Salt Lick?" she asked. I shook my head no again. She made a face.

The partner continued the interrogation. "How about the County Line?"

I shook my head.

"Well, where did you go?" the screener asked in an exasperated voice.

Heh. We all have our own ideas on this one, don’t we? You’re really only happy with your own barbecue. I still don’t know how to explain South Carolina mustard sauce, but hey, it’s not my barbecue.