Taste of New Orleans - Wisconsin Dells

PEBBLE SCORE:

It has been said that "good rubber makes for a happy man". It's also been said that "happy cows come from California", but we all know that that's a load of crap! Good rubber is essential and does, indeed, make for a happy man! I have been trying to recall who came up with the phrase, but I really can't remember if it was Leonardo Da Vinci, the Michelin Man or the Trojan Horse. Regardless of its origins, the phrase remains the most inspiring fortune cookie quote since the delightful treats were invented by Shaka Khan. Or maybe it was Genghis Khan . . . . whatever! 

The only place I can think of where good rubber is actually not good, is in your food! But don't tell that to the folks over at Taste of New Orleans in Wisconsin Dells because it'll just bounce right off their beignets! 

We were in town for the Dells Chili Cookoff and found ourselves with a craving for something sweet and tasty after all of the heat and spices of the cookoff. Well, having recently visited New Orleans and falling head over heals with their beignets, we decided to drop in at the one restaurant that claims to be authentic New Orleans cuisine to see if they had some of heavenly pillows of goodness we had grown to love! 

The staff was as friendly as Katrina with the enthusiasm of gator poo. The decor appeared as if the owners had raided all of the Goodwill stores within a hundred miles and then threw them around while blindfolded. And the beignets? Well, lets just say that if you took a Goodyear Wrangler XT and filled it with old biscuit dough, then covered it with about a half inch of powdered sugar, you would actually have something a bit more edible than that which we were presented! Seriously! I couldn't even cut them with my fork and had to resort to a knife! RUBBER! We had one bite and were so exhausted afterwards that we decided to call it good and pay the bill! The server didn't even care that we didn't like the beignets and simply took our money and walked away, presumably to meet with his zombie minions! 

So if you are looking for genuine New Orleans in the heart of Wisconsin, don't look in the Dells! However, if you need a spare tire for your trailer, or if for some obscure reason you find yourself in a zombie apocalypse and in need of something to chew on, try the beignets over at Taste of New Orleans in Wisconsin Dells. Where you will be served by the living dead and the beignets will bounce off their bloody heads!

Foodie Quickie @ Waupaca Woods - Waupaca

Pebble Score:

If you like large quantities of food, like thirty-seven scrambled eggs when you only ordered two, and you also like your food to be of the highest quality with a touch of class and distinction, then perhaps you should look elsewhere. I say this only because, even though the former is true, the latter is posolutely not. You certainly get plenty of food for your money at Waupaca Woods Restaurant, but I would happily trade the ampleness of my plate for a little more quality of flavor. 

The speed of service matched that of my friend, Cecil Turtle. Not the quickest to get to the finish, but, with clean livin', the end is soon in sight. I was puzzled when the hamburger steak and eggs I had ordered was served with a steak knife. Not a good sign. And, after bending the tines off of three forks and wearing down the serrations on my regular knife, the irrational became self-explanatory. The hamburger steak was a little tough. Okay, maybe a lot tough. But, it had okay flavor and was about the size of, what I would imagine would be, one of Kate Gosslin's nipples. Only I could only hope to be the first to supple on the steak. 

Foodie Quickie @ La Pachanga - Plover WI

Pebble Score:

La Pachanga is the newest Mexican restaurant to migrate into the central Wisconsin area. "La Pachanga" is actually a Cuban term about dancing or music or something and it literally means: "The Pachanga". But what does "The Pachanga" have to do with Mexican food? Well, nothing, I guess. The only thing you need to know about The Pachanga is that they have pretty good food and pretty good service.

I tried the Chili Colorado with the hot ranchero sauce option even though I was quite puzzled as to what the entire dish had to do with our 38th state. I mean, strips of real beef, properly cooked rice, un-burnt beans and some warm corn tortillas do not remind me of Cartman's favorite Denver restaurant. It was only after my meal was placed before me that I had my very own Richard Dreyfuss Close Encounters moment . . . the meat looked like the Rocky Mountains! The jagged peaks of the strips of tender beef intertwined by cascading onion slivers that resembled the Gandy Dancer ski trail on Vail Mountain were all quite reminiscent of the Rockies and I was happy to have had at last felt that pioneering feeling of discovering the origins of a dish! Imagine my surprise , however, when the first bite reminded me less of the Rocky Mountains than that of Mount Kilauea. Great kick with pretty good flavor.

My experience was good and I hope that "La Pachanga" will survive the first six months. In my opinion, it is one of the best Mexican restaurants near the corner of Cedar Street and Post Road. 

Buca Di Beppo - Appleton WI

Pebble Score:

So what do Hulk Hogan, Jay Leno, Al Pacino, Robert De Niro, Sylvester Stallone and Lindsay Lohan have in common? Well, aside from naturally hairy chests, their aspirations of Popeness, and a love for the female form, they are all of Italian descent. 

Now, it is widely rumored, and accepted as fact, that all celebrities having any amount of Italian in their heritage, aspire to be Pope. After all, who else can throw tantrums, tell a large portion of the population how to live their lives, and wear silly hats? Unfortunately, due to the tremendous physical strain and the fact that only men can become Pope, the only one sure to endure through the rigors of Conclave and eventually be appointed as the Supreme Pontiff is, undoubtedly, Madonna. 

So why the big fuss over trying to become Pope? Is it the fancy robes, the many rings adorned with precious stones, the really cool Pope-Mobile, the fact that you own all Catholics, or, is it the young alter boys? No! All of these benefits can already be had by many celebrities. The one benefit of Popeship that can only be bestowed with Popedom, is the privilege of having your bust at the center of the Pope's Table at every Buca di Beppo restaurant! What could be better? Although many have had Madonna's bust, the pleasure has yet to be bestowed onto the center of a Buca di Beppo table. 

The only way we peasants can even get close to such an honor as having our busts at the center of a dining table (other than changing your name to Skittles, oiling yourself up and dancing for dollar bills on a table at Olive Garden), is to reserve the Pope Table at your favorite Buca di Beppo location. Well, not having 15 friends with whom to share the table at the new Appleton location, but still wanting to see what the fuss was all about, my dining partner and I had to settle for a small booth in a corner watched over by our server, Pat. 

The atmosphere is happily busy with about 17.2 million photos on the walls and the vibrant sounds of Italian music echoing through the entire space. 

We started our meal with a pricey little appetizer of Bruschetta [broo-sket-uh, -shet-uh; It. broo-sket-tah]. Crisp Italian bread covered with olive oil and Parmesan cheese. Individually sliced grape tomatoes and basil overflowed the top giving it a fresh and authentic flavor. The price point  of almost $11 was a little steep in my opinion (this is Appleton not LA), but the work that goes into it and the final result makes this appetizer for two almost worth the price. 

I chose the Tomato and Basil soup as my accompaniment. Presentation was a bit sloppy and could have used a few bits of fresh basil on top which would have really stood out against the color of the base. Flavor was a bit better than Campbell's, but the tomato seeds were not completely strained out of the soup and they ended up having the effect of large boulders on an otherwise smooth country road - Da da da da da da ........ BAM! Not to my liking. 

My entree was the popular Spaghetti with Meat Ball. Yes, "Meat Ball". Singular. Peerless. Only one. Having no other. Lance Armstrong. But, as Sheryl Crow might attest to, one is enough! The large meat balls served at this place are a meal in themselves! The spaghetti was cooked perfectly al dente. The sauce tasted fresh with lots of garlic slices and Italian goodness but had separated and left a puddle of flavor at the bottom of the bowl. The pasta had a hard time hanging on to the loose sauce and it was a bit difficult to incorporate all of the flavors onto each bite. The meat ball had a great flavor with well rounded herbs and spices and was reminiscent of my Aunt Bunny's meatloaf. I wouldn't mind having a couple of those balls on an Italian hoagie with fresh mozzarella and basil! 

Overall, my meal at Buca di Beppo was quite flavorful with a freshness not usually found in other Italian chain restaurants. I felt the lunch prices were a bit high for the area, maybe deterring some guests, and the prices are perhaps the reason for the less-than-stellar Urbanspoon rating. Perhaps all of those poor ratings are from those who do not appreciate the size of Buca's balls! Although not as large as Madonna's, when you experience one, it leaves you feeling like a virgin! 

Grazie's Italian Grill - Stevens Point

grazie (Italian):  

a grateful feeling or acknowledgment of a benefit, favor, or the like, expressed by words or otherwise. Thank you.

In other words, Grazie means: "thanks". Many Italians use the word "grazie" when they receive great service, food, gifts, compliments, origami and hand jobs. "Grazie" is also the majority stockholder name of a semi-Italian-like restaurant in Stevens Point, WI . . . "Grazie's Italian Grill". Now, it is a known fact that Italian men (many of which are named Tony because of an oversight on Ellis Island where many of them had written "to NY" on their foreheads to ensure they would arrive in New York), are quite fond of pizza pies (among others). So, in the spirit of all those consequential Tonys, we decided to try out Grazie's pizza. 

I am quite the fan of pizza and most Italian food. However, as a good friend of mine named Tony once said, "Ogni regola ha un' eccezione". Translation: "There is an exception to every rule". Grazies is the exception to my like of Italian food. I ordered a pepperoni and sausage pizza and some Cheezy-er Cheese Bread. What I got was an oxymoron. No cheese and very little sausage and pepperoni rounded out the meal. The ingredients themselves were of a lackluster quality and were actually more reminiscent of another friend of mine's pizza empire. Perhaps you've heard of him . . . Tony, the owner of Tony's Pizza found in nearly every corner of the non-Italian world. 

Both the 16" pizza and the Cheezy-less bread weighed in at an astonishing 1.09 ounces, which I have since learned is the result of the small amounts of yeast in the crust that cause it to rise and become lighter than air. The sauce was okay, but the meager scattering of toppings really made the whole pie taste like cardboard, salty tomatoes and Sasquatch meat. The reason for the lack of a photograph in this review is the fact that there was no cheese; therefore, no smile and no click of the shutter. 

So if you find yourself in need of a pie of the Italian variety, but without the Buckwheat hairdo, take a walk down to your local grocery or convenience store and let my friend Tony hook you up. His pizzas are better tasting, cheaper, and won't break your wallet or your arm. And, if by chance, Tony offers you something other than a great tasting pie at a reasonable price, just tell him: "No Grazie's!"

Polonia Cafe - Polonia WI

Date of Visit: 4-01-2012

Time of Visit: 9:10 AM

Pebble Score:

Two Poles immigrated to America. On their first day in New York City, they spotted a hot dog vendor in the street. "Do they eat dogs in America?" one asked the other. "I dunno." "Well, we're going to live here, so we might as well learn to do as they do." So they each bought a hot dog wrapped up and sat down to eat them on a nearby park bench. One Pole looked at his hot dog, then over at the other Pole and asked, "What part did you get?"

So, I am stomping on my brakes and typing this quite a bit slower than I normally would. Why? Well, if you have to ask, than I'm writing this for you. I, thought, I, would, put, in, an, extra, comma, now, and, then, to, slow, the, pace,, but, that, just, makes, me, look, like, I, am, part, of, the, "in", crowd. 

There is a misconception that Poles are from Poland, but, as a matter of fact, they come from either the North or the South. Despite the prejudice that surrounds Poles, they are responsible for a variety of inventions and discoveries that have all but dispelled the notion that they can't change a light bulb without ensuing hilarity or that they are easily coaxed out of a tree. Reality about Poles is quite contrary to popular beliefs: Poles are famous for their vaults and their beans; it was a Pole that won the first auto racing time trials; Presidents have relied on their systems to become elected; and Poles were instrumental  with the delivery of electricity to rural areas of the country.

We, as Americans, are familiar with many great slogans that have become the icons of this great nation. Slogans like: "Only you can prevent forest fires.", "Take a bite out of crime.", "A mind is a terrible thing to waste.", and "Nothing sucks like an Electrolux.", are all shining examples of the intellectual minds at work within our marketing borders. Poles are in no way less than masters of the slogan. In fact, Pole masters have come up with a great new tag line that is one of the best I've ever encountered: "Poles, helping dancers pay their bills one dollar at a time!"

Food is another area where Poles excel, and although Pole masters have not come up with a slogan that epitomizes their strudel, kielbasa or pierogi, their eating establishments found throughout Wisconsin are typically a crap-shoot of mediocrity or fabulousness. Of the establishments I have encountered, the Polonia Cafe bullseyes more towards the fabulousness than the mediocrity. 

This little cafe in the middle of Polish America is a buzz with all of the locals and passers-by alike. I have had the pleasure of dining here on a couple of occasions and have never been disappointed with either the service or the food. Becky, our server on this Sunday morning, was pleasant and could take and dish out a bit of sass which gained her high marks in my book! The decor was laden with Packer paraphernalia (surprise!) but also displayed the pride and history of the town in the many vintage photographs that were scattered throughout. Perhaps the only downside to the atmosphere and feel of yesteryear, was the constant staccato sounds of tubas and accordions that blurted out from the little white discs from hell mounted on the ceiling.

This place is small and can get quite busy during prime meal hours, so if you don't like patrons that are waiting for a seat to salivate all over themselves while watching you eat your homemade meal, you may want to take a seat on the edges of the dining room or come in just before or after prime times.

You can judge the quality of the ingredients used in an establishment by the quality of the condiments on the tables. Polonia Cafe not only has the Smucker's jams and jellies, but they also provide the flavored International Delights creamers right at the table. The food that was delivered reflects the quality ingredients that are used and was perfectly cooked and quite flavorful with a hint of a seasoned cast iron. No salt was needed and I enjoyed every bite! 

I hope everyone that reads this post (both of you, thanks) will give this little gem in the midst of  Portage County and the Polish Heritage Highway a try to help support the local Polish community. Perhaps, together, we can finally put to rest the playground like bullying that has suppressed these great people and the Poles can finally stand erect. With a little work and a stroke of luck, there can be an erect Pole in all of us!

Foodie Quickie @ Solea - Appleton WI

The apparent bastard child of an illegal Mexican and a Polish immigrant, Solea delivers a bland selection of nondescript food lacking in personality, flavor, and distinction that evokes anyone with a pallet, not made of wood and stacked in a rodent infested warehouse, to cry out in pain and wonder if they had somehow traveled back to their infancy glued in to an out-of-date car seat strapped to a Flux Capacitor and were, in fact, eating an old jar of Gerber Squash (have you ever tried that stuff? Ewe!). Whereas, the Mexican side of the equation works hard to fill your need for sustenance with beans, rice and meat but forgot to bring the cumin along for good measure, the Polish side just sits there and wonders what to do and why their friendly one-armed cousin just fell out of a tree! The lack of flavor left my own pallet feeling lonely and completely disregarded by the entire student body . . . just like Jr. high school gym class. 

Casa Mexicana - Rhinelander WI

Date of Visit: 3-26-2012

Time of Visit: 11:40 AM

Pebble Score:

If you've never dropped a hit of acid (LSD), you have no idea what you're missing! Acid trips impart a consciousnesses expansion unequaled by any fermented hops you've ever drank, sniffed, injected or smoked! Colors become infinitely more vivid even though you have your eyes closed; the sunlight sluicing down through the churning wheels of existence imparts euphoria Irish Setters enjoy riding in cages atop their masters' station wagons, and heralds of angelic hymns chanting the mournful sounds of every human voice on earth cause you to rejoice at the beauty that is reality. Oh yea, and the spider plant in the corner of the room crawls up the ceiling, down the wall, sits on your shoulder and says, "Whasssuuuuup?!"

LSD is better known as lysergic acid diethylamide by the Mormon community and therefore is not legal to consume in any state other than Utah or by anyone not related to, or copulating with, Mitt Romney (they could be two different things, just saying). I know some of you are shocked right now and, by all rights, you should be. You might think I am way off base here and there is absolutely no correlation between LSD and the Mormon faith but, as proof of my assumptions, I give you LDS. Both LSD and LDS can be easily explained by DySLexia. DySLexia is described as a "learning disorder marked by impairment of the ability to recognize and comprehend written words". In other words . . .  you're trippin', dude!

My latest trip involved an impromptu stop at the all new Casa Mexicana in Rhinelander, Wisconsin. Rhinelander, where the women aren't the only things known as Hodags! Hey, that's pretty good! Maybe I can market that motto the the chamber of commerce and we can sell bumper stickers and logo condoms. Who's with me?

Anyway, as you walk into Casa Mexicana, you are transported into a menagerie of colors and sounds very reminiscent of an acid trip. There is a neon-like glow in the whole place with more colors inside than a 124 count box of Crayola! You can't help but admire the work and creativeness that went into the design and execution of the decor. The seating was plentiful. Sophia, our server, was friendly and attentive and joked around a bit but never hovered (that's a good thing!).  

I ordered the chicken burrito with rice and beans even though I knew the refrieds would pay a second visit later in the day. The herbaceous salsa had only a very slight heat with a fresh taste and went well with the bottomless chips. Since most Mexican restaurants in the Northern U.S. pre-cook much of their ingredients, I did not have to wait long for my lunch.   The burrito was as expected with sour cream, fresh lettuce, and tomatoes. The chicken filling was quite tender and was actually all chicken without any fillers like large chunks of onions and peppers as I have experienced in other restaurants. Seasoning for the filling was a little more subtle than I like; you could pick out the little bit of pepper and cumin but I thought it lacked a little salt. The rice and the beans were quite typical for the region and, much like sex with your long time spouse, there were no surprises with regards to the flavors or mouth-feel. 

My Chicken Burrito

My lunch partner's enchiladas

Overall, the service was good, the decor was quite loud and touristy, and the food was good but not great. Not a bad little spot for all of the local Hodags to frequent.

So, if you find yourself in need of a psychedelic trip through the poppies but are paranoid about the side effects, cost, or legality of taking acid, then you can either take a trip to Utah, renounce your current faith and join the LDS church, support Mitt, or simply dine at the Casa Mexicana in Rhineander, Wisconsin.

Frontier Restaurant - Amherst WI

Date of Visit: 3-25-2012

Time of Visit: 10:00 AM

Pebble Score:

Legends in Central Wisconsin have long told of the first hardy settlers in the area and how they drove their dairy herds from the Southern plains all the way up to the richest milking lands in the country. From Holsteins and their non-prejudistic black and white spots, to Jerseys with "R" pronunciation impediments, the majestic herds drove on through the rain, sleet, snow and darkness of night until they reached the lush and fertile grounds of the promised land. Although the journey was beset with difficulties, the settlers were instrumental in laying down the first building blocks of what is now the greatest cheese and butter producing region in the country. 

The cows were so happy that they rewarded the people with milk so rich in cream that the only thing to do was to make a pound of butter for each and every inhabitant in the area. This land was the frontier to butter giant Land-O-Lakes and paved the way for that cute little squaw on their butter package that if you fold the picture just right and cut out the top of her blouse, it looks like her breasts are hanging out!

After years of stockpiling butter instead of nuclear warheads, and an unfortunate event where the dairy section of the food pyramid became a side note on the new "food plate", a new avenue for butter consumption had to be found or we would risk sliding into a recession worse than the one that befell gyros. Luckily, restaurateurs across the nation heeded the call of the wild and have collectively managed to keep dairy farmers in Wisconsin operational. Now, any new charge must have a leader, and the restaurant leading the charge for butter consumption in the country is the Frontier Restaurant in Amherst, Wisconsin. 

I had the opportunity to visit this restaurant for breakfast on a beautiful Saturday morning where everyone, it appeared, was there to ensure I had the most wonderful eating experience of my existence. . . they failed. When a place is busy, I always expect a bit slower service and don't fault the staff, but personality is another story. Tina greeted us with the exuberance of an ocean tube worm and I could tell right away we were sliding off the borderline in a hurry! 

The decor was predominantly country and I found myself surrounded by wood. The tongue in groove kind and a host of other. We ordered at 10:11 am. I happily requested the 8-ounce chopped steak, over easy eggs, hash browns and home-made raisin toast, while my breakfast companion opted for the bacon and eggs plate. The drinks arrived six minutes later (that's 10:17 for those that can't add very fast) and then the food came at 10:33 a full 22 minutes after we ordered it. 

My egg whites had the consistency of a dried out Trojan, the steak was overcooked but was still juicy and had great grill marks with a small amount of seasoning. Too little for my taste. My companion's eggs were omelet like and were accompanied by tough bacon. Now I was out of coffee. I pushed my hash browns to the side and instantly regretted the move. The rush of butter to the center of my plate must have created an imbalance in the space time continuum and I instantly understood why everyone in town was here . . . to save the cows! 

My home made raisin toast, which I had been looking forward to trying, suffered a similar fate as the hash browns. I picked it up and managed to squeeze out about a teaspoon full of the oleo from each slice! Needless to say, I did not eat most of my breakfast. Tina asked me if I wanted a box to take home my leftovers, but I politely declined as I feared a return of the Blob and I knew Steve McQueen wouldn't be there to pull me out!

Ghee, even though my experience with the Frontier Restaurant and their eternal  stick-of-slick was not to my liking, there are many other folks who enjoy the establishment, so who am I to spread any ill feelings? Try them for yourself. I now wish I had taken that box from Tina because I am planning a trip to Mexico, and if I get a sunburn, I know I will hear my mother say, "Just put some butter on it!"

Ranchito - Stevens Point, WI

Date of Visit: 3-16-2012

Time of Visit: 10:00 AM

Pebble Score:

The likelihood of running into an authentic Mexican restaurant in central Wisconsin is about as good as getting shot in the ass with a potato gun by a bisexual, three-nippled midget (BTM). But now that I think about it, however, I believe that is actually a popular festival in one of the local towns like Polonia or something. Yeah, now I remember, it's the Itty-bitty-three-titty-yam-spanker Festival! It's held every year during the first full moon after the local potato harvest and it marks the anniversary of the Lilliputians' rise to power in France. Oui, oui! 

Now, it is widely known that the number one enemy of Minikins, as the BTM's are more commonly referred, are Mexican immigrants. Mexicans come from as far away as Mexico. They leave their families and vast fortunes behind risking their lives on treacherous journeys for the mere chance to capture a Minikin and encase it in paper mache. That actually leads into how pinatas came about, but I will leave that for another post. 

With their hopes fading, and their dreams of capturing the more-elusive-than-a-chupa-cabra Minikin dashed, Mexicans have no choice but to fend for themselves and try to eek out their own American dream. With pesos in hand and tamale recipes ingrained in their childhood memories, they open up taquerias on every other corner of Main Street USA. And now, we have another one in Stevens Point, Wisconsin. 

Ranchito, is as close to authentic Mexican food as you can find around central Wisconsin without making it yourself. They offer breakfast with both traditional and Mexican dishes and are open for lunch and dinner as well. I ordered up a Mexican Machaca with shredded beef, cheese, tomatoes, onion, peppers and a host of yummy spices all topped with a couple of over easy eggs. Just like mom use to make! The flavor of the cumin came through with only some slight heat and as you cut into the eggs, the yolks sluiced their way through the dish and added an element of creaminess and richness that I will certainly go back and eat again, and again. 

Now, no Mexican dish would be complete without tortillas, and this one was no exception. I had a choice of regular corn, flour or home made corn and the choice for the home made was obvious. Although they were not hand pressed, rather pressed with a manual tortilla press, they were thick and had a great corn flavor and I mopped up every last morsel of goodness with the final bites.

The service was great and the sounds of "Estas son las mañanitas" kinda take you on a foodie trip south of the border.  The owner, Mr. Perez, is very attentive to everything that goes on in the restaurant. My bill had an error on it but he took care of it promptly and with many apologies. 

Overall, it was a good experience with good food and tasteful decor at a reasonable price. The building is small and could use a bit more seating, but the booths are comfortable and the restaurant is fairly new so the traffic is still slower than it should be until the word gets out. 

So, if you get a craving for some authentic Mexican food and you find yourself in the Stevens Point area, give Ranchito a try. Bring your appetite and your Visa card. Because, as I learned, they don't take kindly to strangers trying to pay with a Minikin squirming around in a burlap sack, and they don't take American Express. 

Famous Dave's - Appleton, WI

Date of Visit: 3-15-2012

Time of Visit: 12:30

Pebble Score:

Chicken, ribs or steak, it don't matter what you cook. If it ain't been barbecued, then it don't cut it in my book. From the back roads of the deep South to the Texas panhandle, I have had the pleasure of sampling some of this country's best BBQ. Arthur Bryant's, Charles Vergos' Rendezvous, Baker's Ribs and countless other juke joints throughout the South have left me with an insatiable craving for that myoglobin/carbon monoxide reaction that can only come from slow smoking unsuspecting  and lethargic animals in huge pits of fire and brimstone! YUM! 

Enter, stage left, Famous Dave's. I first discovered Dave's BBQ at his Blues Club on Hennepin Avenue in Minneapolis soon after moving to Wisconsin from South Texas (what the hell was I thinking?). I enjoyed a great night of beer, blues and cue with some co-workers and I have been a loyal follower ever since!

I recently had the opportunity to sample Dave's Appleton, Wisconsin store. Same decor as most of his other stores (There's a sale at Penny's!) with the all too familiar aroma of burnt offerings coming from the kitchen. Those burnt offerings rejuvenate everything! If you close your eyes, you can see the old empty steel drums found by Billy Bob and Bubba down by that der canal over yonder, cut in half and brimming with hardwood coals and ashes. Betcha can get some good flavor from them drums. Heck, they got them bone pictures on 'em! But I digress. 

I was seated by the hostess (fancy!) and then ordered the Rib Tips (naked, of course) with the Roasted Chicken, BBQ beans and fries. Being the lunch rush, things took about 15 minutes, but I was able to entertain myself by scribbling dirty words, in alphabetical order (I have to do it in alphabetical order, I am a little CDO), on all of the sugar and not-so-sugar packets. The couple seated behind me must have thought me strange when I kept giggling and then kindly asked to exchange my container for theirs. Luckily, the food arrived before I got the letter "F". 

The naked tips were mounded on half my plate. I read a review of this restaurant on Urbanspoon by ManBearPig that you should never order the tips because they are meat scraps and the marrow leaks out of the bones. YUM! Apparently, this neanderthal had no idea that rib tips are short, meaty sections of rib that are attached to the lower end of the spare ribs, between the ribs and the sternum. Unlike back ribs or spare ribs, the structure of the rib is provided by dense costal cartilage, NOT BONE! Bonehead! Rib tips are cut away from the spare ribs when preparing St. Louis Style spare ribs.

Anyway, the tips were a bit greasy with loads of fat but the dry rub is full of flavor and lends itself quite well to be dunked with a multitude of sauces. The beans were great with a nice BBQ flavor and the chicken was a little dry but flavorful. Now, you might ask why I got my Rib Tips NAKED? Simple, really. If you get them naked, you can savor each one with a different sauce! The Texas Pit, Devil's Spit, and the Georgia Mustard are my favorites and I never, ever, use ketchup for my fries. With all of those sauces on the table, why would you use anything else?

Dave's Sauces

The service was okay, but nothing to write home about. So I won't write about it.

Overall, for a Northwoods boy, Dave does a fine job with BBQ and I am able to get my smoke fix whenever I have the occasion to be traveling near one of his joints. The best part of the meal was that wonderful corn muffin they serve on every plate! Like sucking Kansas through a bee's ass (maybe they will use that characterization in their menu)! Not sure how they make those delectable little morsels, but i'm certain Dave will be more than willing to share his recipe with me so I can then post it to this blog and become famous myself! But I'm not holding my breath because, just like the rib tips, there's a fat chance of that! 

Angel's Hwy 63 Diner - Ellsworth, WI

Date of Visit: 03-14-2012

Time of Visit: 1:45 PM

Pebble Score:

I have a job. Unlike many of the folk that frequent Angel's. I'm not saying that they're lazy, I mean, they probably had jobs at one time, but now they just sit around and talk about politics, how the country's gone all to crap, and what color, shape and texture their bowl movement was this morning. And, they wait. They wait for that next social security check to hit their meager bank accounts before it's off to Walmart for an afternoon of fun and frolic. Then they wait again. I sit and wait. Does an angel contemplate my fate? Perhaps. 

Angel's Hwy 63 Diner. I discovered this little side of the road cafe while working in the area and decided to stop and give it a try. The gravel parking lot was a yesteryear's welcome mat and the cars, of which none were of foreign descent, were lined up like a pile of wooden blocks in the losers' bracket at the international Jenga tournament. This was going to be interesting! 

As I walked in, I was visually accosted. My remaining youth suddenly sucked away by the soulful eyes of the patrons who gazed upon me. Perhaps they looked to me to see if I had come bearing news of a pool where they could swim and become energized with youthful vigor. 

The decor matched the enthusiasm in the room as did the free wifi. I seated myself and was promptly greeted with warmth by the matriarch of the group who's name I could only assume was Methuselah. Maty, as I had chosen to refer to her, was friendly and treated me like family. I ordered the hamburger and hand cut fries, and waited. Surprisingly, the wait was only about 10 minutes and my food come out hot and appetizing. 

The burger was not too dry and the words "mom burger" came to mind as the patty was hand formed, the lettuce was crisp and the tomato was fresh and still cold. The bun was toasted but commercially made and the hand cut potatoes, although only single fried, were flavorful and a little limp. Overall a decent burger and fries plate at a very reasonable cost. If you prefer crispy fries, this is certainly not a place for you. However, if you like laid back service, overhearing first hand accounts of the Great Depression, and breakfast served all day, than give Angel's a try. 

As I paid for my meal, in complete shock that they accepted forms of payment other than fattened swines and buttercup coned roosters (which I was well prepared for, BTW), I couldn't help but cast a pitied look back at my fellow patrons as they faded back into their cocoons of hell and waited for their only remaining chance at life . . . Walmart.  

El Mezcal - Marshfield, WI

Date of Visit: 03-12-2012

Time of Visit: 6:00 PM

Pebble Score:

Oh, Mexico. I never really been but I'd sure like to go. Where I'd imagine the sun warms your skin, causes the agave to grow to astounding heights and you find yourself wishing you had a damn hat or some SPF 30! Luckily, for us northern folk, we can get a bit of the divine flavor from our south facing immigrant producing machine right in our own back yards. It seems like Mexican restaurants have sprouted up everywhere like illegals trying to hide under a cabbage truck. So many, in fact, that giant burritos, churros and sizzling fajita plates have become ubiquitous in American cuisine.

I recently had the opportunity to visit El Mezcal in Marshfield, WI. This restaurant comes highly recommended by the locals as is evident by their Urbanspoon rating. The decor is quite a cliche' and you can just imagine yourself whisked away to some fiesta in the heart of San Francisco by a gay caballero! Still, the place is inviting and has a festive feel. The hostesses were of non-suntanned descent and I immediately felt as if I had been sucked into some sort of oxymoronic time warp where I was certain to find both Amilia Earhart and Herve Villechaize enjoying happy hour margaritas on the wings of a Lockheed Electra yelling; "Da plane! Da plane!"

I was accompanied by a few other members of my family and we were quickly seated in one of those long booths that have multiple tables and wouldn't you know it, right next to some of the only other patrons in the place. Strike one. The chips and salsa came flying in hot, flavorful and never-ending. Another human of non-suntanned descent took our order and politely asked if we needed anything right away. Since we happened to be celebrating one of our group's birthday, we gladly threw them under the bus and asked for a Mexican Hat Dance! This was going to be hilarious! 

Our food came out quickly and was served hot with warm plates to ensure the cheeses stayed melted. Good call. An order of meat nachos, cheese nachos, a taco salad with more meat than lettuce, cheese sauce, bean dip, more chips and salsa, and an order of pork chile colorado with six mechanically produced tortillas were laid out before us. Everyone was happy with their choice of food and the portions were generous. The chili colorado (my dish) was a little tough, but was flavorful with a twinge of heat. I added some bottled Tapatio salsa and all was better.

Refills on drinks were a little slow, but they did eventually come. Towards the end of the meal, the plates were cleared and a surprise ice cream sundae with raspberry and fudge sauces was laid before the birthday girl in the group. The mandatory Mexican hat that accompanied the sundae and had been worn by countless other celebrants without the mere thought of disinfection was not well received and I would suffer sever penalties if I were to post the incriminating photo on in this blog. Hilarity did ensue! 

Overall, the service was decent, the food, although not truly authentic, was gringo flavorful and served hot. The overall value was good with a total bill of only $40.64 with a 20% tip! Right at 10 bucks a head. Not too bad for bunch of south-of-the-border brothers. Try them out, you will probably like them.