Sock Puppet Phil B: Hail!

KG: This week, our meanderings brought us here, to The Citizen Café, the Café for the People. It says so right on the banner.

We weren’t quite sure what to expect – honestly, we came here on the strength of the banner alone.

SPPB: And boy are my arms tired!

KG: No, that joke doesn’t work here… it… ugh, anyways, moving on. We got seated at Citizen just before a storm cut in, and were given the choice of inside or outside. The rain turned out not to be too bad, and they had a huge awning over their outside patrons to keep them dry, but Phil and I opted to stay indoors. It wasn’t long before we were given some cuts of bread along with fresh butter and a house-made chickpea spread, not unlike hummus.

SPPB: The hummus smelled like old feet!

KG: No, you smell like old feet. Try to keep up. The hummus/chickpea stuff was actually pretty great, and smelled not at all like smelly feet. It was a good spread that made the good bread all the tastier. The butter was nice as well, but for me a good hummus is always fantastic, and this did not disappoint. The follow-on was a plate of their pate, to be shared between us.

To be fair, as Phil pointed out, this is less a pate as we tend to think of them and more of a terrine, a forcemeat. Which is just a fun work to say – forcemeat.

SPPB: I bet you want to force your…

KG: Whoa! Family show here, SPPB. Anyways, while not spreadable like what we usually consider pate, this concoction was a good chunk of liver and butter, with some capers and a nice homemade dijon mustard on the side. It went really well with the bread, although I’m loathe to use the bread for anything other than the hummus, which really was my favorite of the pre-entrée foods.
When it came to entrees, Phil and I took a few minutes and then decided to go with the most interesting looking of the sandwiches – I went with the Sirloin Burger, which came with a spicy bacon marmalade, and Phil opted for the Citizen Joe – Meat and Spices wrapped in dough.

SPPB: Whoever heard of bacon marmalade?

KG: Not us that’s for sure. And thanks for not making another lame…
SPPB: I mean I always wanna bacon her…

KG: No. Just, no. I don’t even know where you’re going with this, but no. This isn’t working out. The door is over there.

SPPB: But..

KG: Just go. Security will see you out...

Sorry about that folks, but I guess that’s what we get for hiring scabs. Phil, you’re just going to have to do your own writing from here on out.

Real Phil B: Okay, okay! I’ll start writing again! Jeez, all I did wuz take a short vacation from DWPF, and what does my esteemed colleague do? He shows his loyalty by replacing me with a dirty little sock…(ahem). Oh well, let’s get back to business. After all, it’s about the food, not us.

KG: First up, the Citizen Joe.

Holy crap, we did not know what to expect, but we weren’t expecting this! The crust is soft, flaky and tender, delicious enough on its own, but the filling! It reminded me a little of some Afghani spiced meats I’ve had, and was simply succulent.

RPB: There were only three ingredients that I recognized in the sandwich: (1) ground meat, (2) sweet red pepper, and (3) the crust. Sounds simple (and I’m sure there were more ingredients), but the flavors had a delicious complexity that defied description. There was nary a crumb left when I finished.

KG: But wait – there’s more.

So, I figured out what bacon marmalade is… Delicious! A little sweet, mostly spicy and savory, with chunks of bacon slopped into the mix, this one’s for the books. On top of a fantastic ground sirloin patty, it’s the perfect way to make one of the best burgers in the Twin Cities. Add in a slightly too-sweet house-made ketchup, which is just fine mixed with the marmalade, and it’s simply amazing. The branding on their sandwiches is also a nice touch – just a neat trick on top of some fantastic sandwiches.

RPB: Folks, I can’t say enough good things about this place! This is one of the few times I had to restrain myself from going back into the kitchen to shake the chef’s hand. The meal delighted the senses; it was truly fit for a king. But in true egalitarian fashion, this place welcomes one and all: The People.

Here’s the bottom line: You really, really owe it to yourself to give the Citizen Café a try – I don’t think you’ll be disappointed at all. The quality of the food is phenomenal, and the modest prices would fit any proletarian’s budget. Four tines way up.

KG: So in the end, The Citizen Café really is a café for the people, and we absolutely will be back for another go ‘round. The breakfasts and dinners look as good if not better than the lunch! Four tines and highly recommended.

Sock-Puppet Phil B: Hola!

KG: So, until such time as he can find time, or until have a sock puppet speak for him shames him into writing, myself and Sock-Puppet Phil B will be taking over the writing duties on the blog here.  Also, I'll be blocking anonymous comments, as we seems to be getting more bots commenting than real people.

SP PB: Es una problema.

KG: ...

SP PB: Que?

KG: SP stands for "Sock-Puppet", not "Spanish" you dolt!

SP PB: Oooh.

KG: Well, this idea is off to a rocky start.  But in the meantime, today we head to eat at a place for you, the people.  Monday, review!  See everyone on Monday!

SP PB: Do I get food?

KG: No.

We're trying to get back in the groove here, working on three different reviews and a special piece which should be up shortly. That said, we'll be adding something new to our old posts as well.

We're linking our reviews to Urbanspoon (you remember them, they had the neat iPhone app that they advertised the hell out of for a while there...). So soon you'll be seeing little UrbanSpoon icons at the bottom of our posts, and so if you don't believe us, you can check them out and see if others agree.

Talk to everyone soon!

Phil B: Jason definitely gets ‘marked up’ for telling us about Wally’s – any place with a motto like “Oh By Golly, Gotta Have a Wally” so totally embodies the spirit of DWPF. Exciting stuff.

KG: It’s kind of cool that there at the intersection of our first review is a second restaurant of suitable DWPF quality. Especially since the intersection only seems to have two restaurants.

PB : Well, there is that Burger King there…

KG: Like I said, two restaurants.

PB: Hmm, will have to concede on that point. Calling BK a ‘restaurant’ is a bit of a stretch …

KG: Wally’s Roast Beef Sandwiches, established in 1969, is a veritable slice of Americana, served on a bun and topped with gravy. They even have a Blue Plate Special! And it comes on a Blue Plate!

PB: We noticed that they have a Red Plate and a Green Plate Special on the menu as well. Didn’t look to see if they had red and green plates for these items, but I’m guessing that they do.

The décor is totally retro, complete with linoleum floors, oilcloth-covered tables, a jukebox, and gas station signs. It’s like stepping into a time warp back to the ‘60’s.

KG: We surveyed the room for religious icons, and while we didn’t find any per se, we did find something like a religious icon:

PB: I beg to differ … that much-ballyhooed symbol is the object of more worship and fanatical devotion from its followers than most things you’ll find on the planet. If that isn’t a religious icon, nothing is.

KG: We meandered over to the counter, and Phil was unable to resist the lure of blue plastic, so his choice was done. I have always had something of a fondness for the French Dip sandwich, so quickly my course was set too.

PB: Hey, this was an exciting moment in my life. The Blue Plate Special is firmly seated in the lore of Americana -- along with roadside diners, Route 66, the ’56 Ford pickup, Airstream trailers, and waitresses that call you ‘Hon’. And here was an opportunity to try it, on a genuine blue plate.

KG: Now, they have other things on the menu: meatloaf, turkey, BBQ pork, even hamburgers. But any place that proudly proclaims one meat above all other on their board better be able to back it up, and here’s the good news: Wally’s can.

Their roast beef is made fresh and cut on site with a deli slicer, and it is delicious. Medium rare, a nice thickness to the cut, and perfect tenderness all combine into one of the best roast beef sandwiches a consumer could ask for. Add gravy or au jus, and then we’re really talking.

PB: Yep, the Blue Plate Special is a hot roast beef sandwich, served the way God intended it: Smothered in brown gravy, with homemade mashed potatoes and some corn on the side. Perfectly seasoned with a little salt and pepper. For this reviewer, it doesn’t get any better than this.

The French Dip sandwich is also very good, if you are looking for slightly lighter fare. But this time the heart attack on a blue plate really did it for me.

KG: The sandwiches are cheap, filling, delicious and quick. They’re not earth-shattering or anything like that, but it’s solid food solidly made. I was a little disappointed that the French Dip didn’t have Swiss cheese or onions, but the bread used soaks up the au jus very nicely, and on Phil’s it supported the gravy ably.

The mashed potatoes are also quite good, if a little lumpy, which was nice. The corn that came on the Blue Plate was also good, if a bit plain. But like I said, this isn’t haute cuisine.

It’s just straight up Dining With Plastic Forks. Four tines.

PB: Four tines from me, too. When are we going back?

As my wife once said, “Ah, German. The only language in which ‘Have a nice day’ sounds like ‘Let’s invade Poland’.”

Too soon?

Phil B: [laughing] Nope, not too soon -- I almost choked on my food when you said that. Too funny!

KG: Good German fare is hearty, rich, and probably very, very bad for you. Full of meat, meat, and possibly more meat, the Germans like their plates heaped with herbivores, and vegetarians need not apply. A land of warm beer and fast cars, Germany is teeming with unusual and unique dishes, most of which are in the form of sausage.

In short: a carnivore’s delight.

PB: I suppose I could adjust to their lifestyle. Beer. Bratwurst. BMWs. What’s there not to like?

KG: Facist regimes?

PB: Well, there is that...

KG: Off we went again to Eat Street, to the Black Forest Inn.

We arrived to a mostly empty lunchroom and were quickly seated. We searched about us for this week’s religious icon, but the best we could was this guy:

Okay, so he’s no deity, but he’s at least a religious man, or a cut-out thereof, so we’re going to go to the ump and say he’s good, if just this side of the foul line. I’m not quite sure why there’s a cardboard cut-out of a monk in the room, but ours is not to question why, ours is just to eat!

PB: Dunno, I thought the monk was a pretty weak entry in DWPF’s Best Deity contest. Maybe we should suggest that they install something with a little more street cred, i.e. a burning bush or perhaps a pillar of fire.

KG: The waitress took our orders; I got the pork shank, and Phil got the sauerbraten. A bit of German for you here: sauerbraten means, “Let’s invade Poland”.

No, wait, it means ‘Sour Beef’. Damn, my wife’s right – all German does sound the same. Sauerbraten is beef that’s been marinated in vinegar and seasonings, cooked kind of like a pot roast. I’m a huge fan of sauerbraten – I love sour foods, and this is one of the best. It’s tender, and tingles as it rolls across the tongue, filling your mouth and sinuses with a vinegary tang. It’s usually served with spaetzel, which is a particular delight all its own. Spaetzel are egg noodles (really more of a mini-dumpling) that soak up whatever flavor you soak them in (default: butter). The gravy that comes on sauerbraten in particular is a perfect combo for these little treats, and well recommended.

PB: This was my first time trying sauerbraten and spaetzel. Mmmm, dies ist eine gute! Laßt uns invade Polen!

KG: Wait... what... nah...

The pork shank’s pretty good too. It’s served drowned in gravy, and is a pretty tasty treat. On the menu it comes with mashed potatoes, but I asked for spaetzel instead, but due to a little mix-up I got mashed potatoes and spaetzel! Who wants a starchy treat, huh? I do! I do! The mashed potatoes are good, for restaurant mashed potatoes. I’ve never really found a place that makes mashed potatoes anywhere near as good as the stuff we get when we make ‘em at home, so the fact that these are decent isn’t bad at all. Still, I only picked at the potatoes while I downed the spaetzel double-time. What can I say? I know what I like. The pork’s good and tender, full of moist and juicy goodness, and the gravy is hearty, but the shank kind of succumbs to an American issue with gravy, and I’m not sure if it’s a German problem too. When we add gravy to a dish we seem to think the flavor of the dish should be ‘gravy’, rather than the gravy being an accent to the meat. I’ve done it when cooking too, so I’m as guilty as anyone, but I still think they could have eased off a little and been fine.

PB: Yep, this was one of the rare times that I preferred what I ordered over Kale’s choice. I liked the pork shank well enough, but it seemed kinda bland compared with the savory, vinegary goodness of the sauerbraten. And the spaetzel, well, let’s just say that it’s a perfect companion for the sauerbraten. Next time I’m gonna order the same thing and wash it all down with a few mugs of Paulaner Oktoberfest-Märzen. That would definitely qualify as four-tine dining.

KG: At the end of the day, I’m torn on the Black Forest Inn. I love spaetzel, and I think they have the best in the Twin Cities. Their sauerbraten is likewise top of class, but the pork shank’s a little weak for my tastes – don’t get me wrong, it’s good, but I like my pork a little less drowned – unless we’re talking barbecue. So here’s how I’m calling it: sauerbraten and spaetzel, four tines. Pork shank, two and a half. We’ll look for an average and call the whole mess at three and a quarter (I think that’s our first quarter tine rating… frankly, I’m looking forward to the first sixteenth-tiner…). Black Forest Inn is a good and hearty meal, and if you go for dinner you occasionally get lucky and can hear the big German parties singing drinking songs. Recommended.

Thanks,
Kale

Phil B: I blame Kale.

Kale G: Laugh it up, fuzzball. So the last few weeks here at DWPF we’ve concentrated on the truly hole-in-the-wall sort of joints you might expect from a place called ‘Dining with Plastic Forks’. Don’t thank us; it’s our job. That said, occasionally we feel the allure of the metal silverware, and it was in that vein that we found ourselves drawn once more to Eat Street, AKA Nicollet Avenue, in our journey to find the best the Twin Cities have to offer.

Phil B: Yep, the place is aptly named – there are over 25 ethnic restaurants and groceries on this stretch of Nicollet Avenue, which runs about a dozen blocks from downtown to Lake Street. If you are looking for something out of the ordinary, your chances of finding it on Eat Street are excellent : African, American, Carribean, Chinese, Fusion, German, Greek, Indian, Japanese, Malaysian, Mexican, and Vietnamese cuisines are all represented here. So, with so many choices available, where does one decide to go?

KG: I have just one word for you: Malaysian.

I know, I know, it’s not a common cuisine – that’s kind of the point of going there, if you ask us. Our debate of where to go all week was between pork bung and curry. Guess which won?

(For those of you now lamenting the lack of a pork bung entry here at DWPF, for shame. We do this for our amusement, not yours. That’s just a happy by-product.)

PB: In case you are wondering how we even got to this dilemma: we were checking out the website of a Cambodian restaurant in St. Paul and noticed that they had an offering called Deep Fried Pork Bung. Now, phrases like this tend to jump out at you from a page, especially in the context of a dinner menu. This situation practically screamed for further investigation, so we decided to find out more about this delicacy.

A Google search revealed that …. (1) yes, pork bung is what we thought it was, and (2) yes, some people do eat that sort of thing. However, if your curiosity simply won’t let go (or if you still don’t have a clue what we’re talking about), here’s an educational video that shows how they harvest these things.

Yum.

KG: Back on track. Malaysian had carried the day, and off we went to Peninsula!

KG: We decided to dine outside as the weather was so nice and the forecast so gloomy that we wanted to get what sun we could, while we could. The greeter was… I believe the word I’m going to use here is ‘enthusiastic’. Very, very enthusiastic. I had to clarify with Phil afterwards, but I think he was hitting on me.

PB: Oh yeah, he was definitely hitting on you. With enthusiasm. He went on and on about your most prominent feature, which is ... your … damn, I forget what it is. What was he was all giddy about, anyway?

KG: It’s the hair.

PB: That’s it, your hair. Maybe because he didn’t have any.

KG: Anyways, we settled in to peruse the menu, and almost immediately I was struck by one of my favorite things: Roti. Roti, for the uninitiated, is kind of like naan, only fried and on crack.

PB: Fried crack? You’re talking about the pork bung, right?

KG: Oh dear, that wasn’t very enlightening. I see I shall have to explain.

KG: Roti is a flatbread, very common in many Middle-Eastern and Asian cuisines. Roti in particular is a very high-gluten type of flatbread, which for those of you playing at home means ‘chewy’, ‘substantial’, and ‘delicious’. One of the best things about Roti is it is almost served with curry on the side for either dipping or depositing on top. We opted for the latter with the curry provided, a few spoonfuls of a delightful chicken and potato curry. Now, I don’t want you to think that Roti is only a vehicle for curry delivery, no, no, no! It’s quite the smashing taste sensation on its own as well. Still, either way, the bread delivered to our table nearly vanished from touchdown. I think the waitress was counting her fingers as she walked away.

PB: Hey, it was all finger-lickin’ good! (sorry, Colonel Sanders). I did feel bad about her fingers, though – it was an honest mistake.

KG: Speaking of our waitress, I want to share with you our tea.

PB: ??

KG: Hang on, it will make sense in a moment.

KG: Our tea was a serviceable oolong with some citrusy notes, mostly orange. Nothing wrong with it, mind you, but getting it was interesting. The weather was nice, verging on turning cold on us, as I mentioned. When the waitress asked for drinks, Phil opted for tea, and I followed suit. She then asked, as is Minnesotan custom, “Hot or iced?” Phil, reasoning that the hot tea would be good either in the mild weather or in colder weather if the wind picked up, replied, “Hot.” “Iced tea,” the waitress confirmed incorrectly, and then turned to me. “He said ‘Hot’,” I clarified. “One iced and one hot tea,” she read back. After much debate, the order we wanted placed was placed, and hot tea was delivered.

I guess the rule at Peninsula is ‘enunciate’.

PB: I think she was still in shock from the finger incident.

KG: Still, this in no way diminished our enthusiasm for what came next: entrees.

Phil had looked up the menu online beforehand and had fallen in love with the Beef Rendang. Beef Rendang is a Malaysian curry, hot and savory, very rich and very good with the heavier meats like beef.

PB: Rendang originally came from the Minangkabau ethnic group (originally from Indonesia), but is now widely enjoyed across Malaysia. This dish was customarily served on special occasions or to honor guests, so I figured it would be perfect for a DWPF lunch. In a typical Rendang recipe, the beef is slowly simmered in coconut milk with vegetables and spices (i.e. ginger, garlic, lemongrass, hot chilies, onions, and red curry paste) for hours until the liquid evaporates, leaving a very thick, spicy stew which goes great with steamed rice. In the end, the meat is so tender that you can cut it with a fork. Well worth the wait.

KG: While I applauded his planning and foresight, I myself was torn between choices. The Malaysian Pork Chop sounded good, but so did the Curried Lamb Shank. When I asked the waitress which she preferred, she enthusiastically endorsed the Lamb Shank. Fearing that deviation would lead to more verbal sparring like the tea fiasco, I opted to follow her lead.

KG: This was a good choice for me. Phil and I are both huge fans of curry across the continents, and these two dishes were great examples of why. The Curried Lamb Shank is a lighter curry, heavy on the coconut milk, leading to a very sweet and spicy flavor across the tongue. Like I said, I love just about any curry, but the sweeter ones always tug at my heartstrings just a little bit more, and this one was no exception. The shank itself was beautifully tender, falling off the bone, and the moist lamb made a perfect counterpoint to the melodic flavors of the curry it was dressed in.

Phil, stop me if I wax too poetic on this.

PB: Don’t worry, Beavis and Butthead will make another guest appearance if it gets too bad. Please continue.

KG: Wow, those two? There's motivation. The Beef Rendang was also a great piece for Phil, who was in the mood for savory. Randang is darker - literally and figuratively! The flavor is more complex and with heavier notes than the curry the lamb was dressed in, and additionally it’s a deep red, where my curry was neon orange. The beef wasn’t quite as tender as my lamb, but it made a good run for it, and when is beef ever more tender than lamb anyways?

PB: This was yet another occasion that I liked Kale’s choice better than mine. The Beef Rendang met all of my expectations, but it was no match for the sweet and spicy perfection of the Curried Lamb Shank. Will order it next time.

KG: Either way, both entrees were great examples of why you want to try Malaysian. They’ve got some things in common with the more well known Indian and Asian cuisines, but it has flavors and notes all its own.

PB: Malaysia’s geographical location (i.e. the Strait of Malacca) has been a crossroads for Asian trade and culture for centuries, and it shows in the recipes. Indian, Thai, and Chinese influences can be found everywhere in Malaysian food, but who’s complaining? It’s all very, very good.

KG: And wouldn’t you know it? When we went to pay our bill, who should be lurking at the counter but this guy:

PB: Here we go again … they are everywhere, y’know.

KG: Yup, another religious icon. We asked if it would be okay to take a shot, and when the greeter asked why, Phil explained we collected photos of religious icons in restaurants, thinking that would quickly bring about acquiescence on the part of the greeter.

Who promptly told us he was Christian and would we like to take a photo of him?

Oh. Kay.

We explained it was about iconography, not believers, and he wasn’t an icon. He responded that in his mind he was a religious icon.

And I realized, as I should have when he sat us, that it was going to be one of those days.

PB: Yeh, that’s what we get for thinking we’d get a normal response from a dude with a hair fetish, along with narcissistic personality disorder. He seemed quite insane in a fun kind of way.

KG: That said, the banter was quite amusing, if theologically disturbing, and the food was… Phil?

PB: AWESOME!! Full plastic fork awarded here, folks.

KG: As succinct a summation as one could ask for. Four tines.

The weather has turned warm again, and that means we here at Dining With Plastic Forks could certainly use a trip outside to enjoy the sun. And what’s better for outdoor eating than that culinary delight known as barbecue? And speaking of barbecue, what’s better than Scott Ja-Mamas?

Those in the know are already salivating at the mention of that hallowed name, and those hearing it for the first time are scratching their heads at the pronunciation. A quick history lesson – the ‘Scott’ of Scott Ja-Mamas is referring to the owner and man behind the grill, Scott himself. The ‘Ja-Mamas’ comes from his mother’s barbecue recipes which he faithfully recreates day in and day out in the tiny kitchen in the back. While growing up people kept telling him, “Scott, ja mama’s got the best barbecue!” At least, that’s the legend.

Phil B: This little hole in the wall also has a special place in our hearts at DWPF, as it was where we took our first lunch pictures to send to our coworker that moved to Arkansas (she’s a big fan of Scott Ja-Mamas) She loved the pictures, and we loved the food -- a win-win situation for all. We had so much fun with this that it eventually evolved into DWPF, which is not a bad thing at all.

KG: Now, when we say hole in the wall, we mean it damn near literally this time. The place is tiny, with only two tables, but it’s holding to a rule we seem to be finding true again and again. You see, when we find deities or religious figures, the food tends to be good along with them. And let me tell you, Scott’s may be small, but the place is lousy with religious icons.

PB: The cashier seemed a bit puzzled when we started taking pictures, but quickly got into the spirit of the moment when we explained what we were doing. He even pointed out a few that we had missed.

KG: There were more, but those were the best of the photos. Never have I seen so many of these things in one restaurant before, but judging by the food here, I think more places should follow suit. I’m not a religious man, but if having the Moses action figure watching over my grill would give me results like this I’d plaster my kitchen with ‘em.

PB: I think they even had a pig that was sitting in a buddha-like pose, which is entirely appropriate for a barbecue joint. My vote is for the 1950’s vintage pro wrestling poster next to the Jesus action figure. Those grapplers had a stern, old-testament “I’m gonna smite my enemies’ look about them that pleasantly contrasted with the gaze of Infinite Forgiveness coming from their neighbor. The whole wall is kinda surreal, really.

KG: A quick note, for those making the pilgrimage for the first time. Scott Ja-Mamas is cash only – Scott’s pretty good about it, and there’s a gas station across the street, but have a twenty in your pocket. I’m just saying.

PB: I guess my rubber checks didn’t set well with him. Anyhow, a twenty should more than cover the lunch tab for 2 people, unless you’re having ribs.

KG: We ordered us up a couple of pulled pork sandwiches, medium spicy sauce, and here’s where we hit our first hurdle. We tried to order two sides of their baked beans (a particular delight, which I highly recommend), but they only had one order left at the time. Phil and I realized that given the situation, there was only one reasonable solution in these enlightened and modern times.

We grabbed our plastic forks and engaged in a duel to the death.

PB: En Garde, thou most vile bean-snatcher!

KG: I am sad to say we were evenly matched, and in the end we decided to split the beans instead of letting the food get cold. That’s the problem with duels to the death – they take time.

PB: Yes, it was time to eat. I’ll save my battles for cold beer.

KG: Like I said, they only have two tables in the joint, and it was finally warm out, so Phil had planned ahead and brought the portable picnic table. Yes, Phil has a portable picnic table. Don’t believe me? Here it is:

PB: It’s a beauty, isn’t it? I think the style is post-modern Adirondack. Or, perhaps Iron Range rustic.

KG: Now, I hear some of you out there complaining, “But Kale, that’s the Cuban Station Wagon from the Victor’s 1959 Café Review! That’s not a picnic table!”

Au contraire.

PB: Deluxe picnic dining, on a fine spring day. Did I mention that I also have a luxury RV for camping?

KG: That behemoth serves many purposes in its time. Properly settled, Phil and I surveyed our bounty.

PB: Holy Cow – er, Holy Pig, those are huge sandwiches! Incredible value for $4.95, no matter where you’re from.

KG: Good luck eating that with your hands. The meat and sauce are so plentiful that the lower half of that bun is gently dissolving under there. Plus, did you see the beans? They’re chock full of meat and sauce and they’re so thick that my plastic fork stands up straight in them! I’m telling you there is some real good eating on one of them.

PB: I would contend that a plastic fork is the environmentally correct choice in this case, since it would take a truckload of napkins to clean up if you decided to forgo the flatware. This is one messy sandwich.

KG: How do we describe Scott Ja-Mamas?

PB: AWESOME!!

KG: Fair enough – but that’s scratching the surface. The sauce at Scott’s has plenty of burn, but there’s flavor multiplied by a factor of five in there. Dark, sweet, smoky, and it leaves your mouth tingling after. The pork is perfect – juicy and rich, and, you may have noticed, quite plentiful. And the beans! I have a weak spot for good baked beans, and nobody – I mean NO-body – has beans like Scott’s does. They’re deeper, richer, and more flavorful than anyone else’s I’ve ever had. Most place just make the beans sweet, but Scott layers them under a series of complex flavors – that’s sweet and savory, pulling back and forth across your tongue is equal measures until the only response possible is to have another bite.

PB: Um, what Kale said. His description just made me want to go back there right now.

KG: They toss in a bag of chips when you get a sandwich, nice for cooling down the burn when it gets extreme, and we grabbed a pair of cokes to wash it down with. The whole thing set us back eleven and change, not quite as inexpensive as Lu’s, but damn cheap nonetheless.

PB: Trust us on this: the pork sandwich stands up to anything we have tried in the much-ballyhooed barbecue joints of Kansas City or Memphis. And the beans were definitely worth fighting for, even though we decided to share. This is down-home good eatin’, folks! I give this place a full plastic fork.

Kale G: Scott Ja-Mama’s is a treat, a delight, and an institution. There’s some great Q out there, and Scott’s is amongst the best. Four tines buried under pork, beans, and delicious. Now when are we going back for ribs?