Chain Reactions – Page 2 – The Saboscrivner

Chain Reactions: Fuddruckers

UPDATE: All three Fuddruckers locations in the Orlando, Florida area announced they were closing on February 7, 2022. See
https://www.facebook.com/FuddruckersEastColonial

Fuddruckers (https://www.fuddruckers.com/) was my favorite restaurant throughout my teens and most of my 20s. When you walked toward the counter to order, you used to see the whole sides of beef hanging in a “butcher shop” window, knowing your burger would be ground fresh. Vegetarians and even some carnivores might have been repulsed, but the rest of us knew we had something really special coming, a burger that stood alone and above all others. The burgers were big, thick, and juicy, cooked to your specifications every time. I followed my dad’s lead for so many years and got mine medium, before I entered a late-bloomer teenage rebellion phase and tried medium rare, only to discover how much better they were. It would be longer still before I dared to become my own man and order steaks rare, and then there was no turning back.

Back in the ’90s, they served the best onion rings — golden brown, beer-battered, just like I like ’em. Those were the onion rings that made me a fan of onion rings 4 LIFE. But for the influence of Fuddruckers and its perfect onion rings, the baker’s dozens of stalwart Saboscrivnerinos might never have experienced

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The buns were brioche-like, baked fresh, fluffy, and fragrant. The Fuddruckers that once stood at Orlando’s Festival Bay Mall (RIP), later known as Artegon Marketplace (RIP), even sold an entire loaf of bread that was soft, airy, and buttery, just like those perfect buns. It made the best French toast. If Fuddruckers served French toast, you know it would have been some kick-ass French toast. Even their desserts were solid, including huge “crispy squares” (Rice Krispies Treats in all but name) that were better than your mom’s.

Maybe my favorite part of Fuddruckers as a teenanger excitedly discovering my likes and dislikes was the toppings and condiments bar, where you could customize your burger however you wanted. The lettuce (in lovely leaves or shredded), tomatoes (always perfectly sliced), and onions (sliced into rings or chopped) were always arranged beautifully, fresh, crispy, and chilled. The condiment station wasn’t limited to basic-ass ketchup and yellow mustard, but barbecue sauce, honey mustard, and molten nacho cheese sauce that you could pump onto anything. I usually went for a combination of all those flavors.

Our old Fuddruckers in the Miami suburbs in the ’90s had a giant vat of warm sauerkraut for their equally giant hot dogs, and to this day, it’s still some of the best sauerkraut I’ve ever had. (The ones in Orlando have never had that, at least not since I moved here in 2004.) When I took U.S. History in 8th grade, I invented the “Zimmerman Note burger” there, topped with a mountain of sauerkraut, fresh pico de gallo (another standard), and sliced pickled jalapeños. My spicy food-hating history teacher father was both impressed with the deep cut and appalled by the combination. Later, in my Orlando era, I know I would disgust some friends when I used to put away those one-pound burgers, piled high with fresh vegetables and condiments. (I can still do it, but I’ve since learned that just because you can do something doesn’t mean you should.)

Like my other chain loves Waffle House, Krystal, and Arby’s, I still have a lot of fondness for Fuddruckers. Ask my wife — in our early years together, when we’d drive around Orlando and see a new building under construction, I used to always say “I hope it’s a Fuddruckers,” to the point where it became one of those running gags that nobody even likes. But my teenage dream was fulfilled a few years ago when a new Fuddruckers really did open ten minutes away from my job. I was one of the first 20 people in line on the day it opened, winning me a coupon for a free burger a week for a year. (And no, I went there twice a month at most, even with that proverbial golden ticket.)

But with some bad news out of Texas, where the corporate headquarters is located, I decided to bring home some takeout from my local Fuddruckers a few nights ago, concerned it could be my last chance. But fear not, the patient lady who works there assured me they aren’t going anywhere, and the website has a similarly hopeful message on it.

I ordered a large burger for myself ($8.99), cooked medium rare of course, and added American cheese (an extra 75 cents). Unfortunately (but unsurprisingly), the topping bar had been discontinued during the era of COVID, but they will add lettuce, tomatoes, onions, or pickles to your burger. Funny, since my appreciation for pickles is a recent development, I’ve never bothered to try whichever pickles they use at Fuddruckers, so I opted for the usual lettuce, tomatoes, and onions. It was a beautiful burger, thick and juicy.

I’m glad they have avoided the “smash burger” trend of the last few years, where burgers are flattened on the grill. It’s so much more satisfying to bite into a juicy, thick burger on a fresh, thick bun, loaded with amazing fresh toppings.

Luckily, the condiment pumps were still operational, so I was able to add barbecue sauce, honey mustard, and that molten lava-hot cheese sauce everyone loves.

There was plenty of hand sanitizer around, so I wasn’t concerned about pumping my condiments. By the way, the restaurant was sparsely populated with diners, but everyone working was wearing masks, which is always a relief to see.

I got a medium-sized burger for my my wife ($6.24), plain, cooked medium rare. Usually she deconstructs burgers and sandwiches, literally taking them apart and often leaving the bread or bun behind. But even she can’t resist the buttery, brioche-like brilliance of a Fuddruckers bun, so she ate the whole thing.

Fuddruckers fries are like thick potato wedges, and after ordering takeout from there for the last few years, we’ve found the fries get cold by the time I make it home, so we didn’t bother this time. The onion rings aren’t the same style as the ones I grew up with in Miami, so I skipped them too. They do have good sweet potato fries, though — especially when dipped in the honey mustard.

I want to get this out there, in case there is any doubt: I wholeheartedly support our locally-owned restaurants, and I love them with all my heart. This should be clear to anyone who has read anything I’ve ever written about food, on this blog or elsewhere. Even during the pandemic, when I haven’t dined in a restaurant in over six months, I have been ordering takeout at least once a week to support struggling local restaurants, and tipping big. That’s a major reason I write this blog, even though I’m well aware that few people read, like, and follow, and fewer still take seriously — to boost the signal and shout from the virtual rooftops about places I love that everyone else should love too.

But thinking of the mantra “Eat local,” this Fuddruckers is a franchise, owned and operated by friendly and competent local people. Everyone who works there is one of our neighbors. Some foodies eschew chain restaurants, and I usually do too, but I’ll always be a Fuddruckers fanboy. They make a tasty damn burger, a burger I prefer to the trendier fast-casual burger joints and most sit-down restaurants that charge two or three times as much. At least pre-pandemic, they let you dress it up however you want, and that went a long way with me. Freedom of choice. Customization. Those options helped make me into the food blogger I am today, back when Fuddruckers was a special day or night out, and even a bit of a splurge. There’s a lot to be said for that.

Maybe you’ve never given it a chance, but the good news is that it’s not too late. If all the locations were to close, my culinary landscape — my Saboscrivner saga — would be changed forever, for the worse. But for now, we can keep enjoying and supporting it, and these days we have to support the places and things we enjoy, to protect them. These are uncertain times, and no matter what the future holds, Fuddruckers and the other restaurants we love need all the support they can get.

Chain Reactions: Skyline Chili (Fort Lauderdale)

Skyline Chili (https://www.skylinechili.com/) is a chain restaurant started by Greek immigrant Nicholas Lambrinides in Cincinnati, Ohio, in 1949. Cincinnati chili is very different from any other kind of chili you’ve tried before. There are no beans in it, it’s not spicy, and it’s a relatively thin meat sauce with finely ground beef — not thick or chunky. In addition to ground beef, it contains tomato paste, tomato sauce, onions, garlic, cider vinegar, and cumin, which sounds normal enough so far. But HOLD ONTO YOUR HATS, because Cincinnati chili ain’t Cincinnati chili without cinnamon, cloves, allspice, Worcestershire sauce, and maybe a bit of unsweetened baker’s chocolate, if you wanna get nuts. YOU WANNA GET NUTS? COME ON! LET’S GET NUTS!

At Skyline and its Midwestern rivals like Gold Star Chili, you can order chili by the bowl, topping a hot dog (Skyline calls them Coneys), or served in a “3-Way” (spaghetti, chili, and bright orange, finely shredded cheddar cheese), a “4-Way” (a 3-Way topped with onions or beans), or a “5-Way” (a 3-Way topped with onions and beans). I find the names hilariously ironic, because most people wouldn’t fare very well in a 3-way after eating a 3-Way, at least not for long. And don’t even bother trying any kind of way after a 5-Way!

Good thing I never bothered to monetize this blog, because I’ll probably lose multiple subscribers after this review, and we all know I don’t have that many to begin with.

Anyway, there are a few Skyline locations in Florida, but none here in Orlando. I’ve eaten at the one in Naples and two in South Florida (Sunrise and the one I’m reviewing here, in Fort Lauderdale), and there are others in Clearwater, Bradenton, and Fort Myers. All the others are in Ohio, Kentucky, and Indiana. Come on, Skyline! Orlando gets tourists from all around the world, including the Midwest. Send your 3-Ways our way!

I drove down to South Florida at the beginning of March, shortly before COVID-19 became a serious concern, to visit my family and best friend in Miami for the first time in far too long. I also had the sad experience of attending a friend’s funeral in Fort Lauderdale on my way down. By the time it ended, I needed to center myself before driving the last hour down to my parents’ house in Kendall, a Miami suburb. I was running on empty — emotionally drained, hungry, and craving comfort food. And what did I discover mere minutes from the service? A rare Skyline Chili sighting. Of course I had to stop, since I haven’t been to one in many years.

You know what’s interesting? Cincinnati’s chili restaurants like Skyline and Gold Star are usually referred to as “chili parlors” up there. These days, not a lot happens in parlors. You hear about parlor games and parlor tricks, but there’s an old-timey connotation to those. Of course there are ice cream parlors, but that’s pretty much it for food. And then there are funeral parlors, so don’t think I missed the significance of going from a funeral straight to a chili parlor.

This location (the Skyline Chili parlor, I should clarify) was set up like a diner, with regular tables, but also a counter with a row of stools facing the open kitchen. I always like to sit at the counter when it’s an option and I’m alone, so I parked on a stool and ordered a cheese Coney (Skyline’s small, chili and cheese-covered hot dogs) as an appetizer. It took less than a minute for the Coney to be served in front of me — a tiny hot dog on a soft, steamed bun with a squirt of yellow mustard, topped with the hearty chili, diced raw onions, and a mountain of almost neon orange shredded cheddar.

My kind and thoughtful waitress was thoughtful enough to offer me a disposable plastic bib. This was a godsend, considering I was still wearing my good black suit, white dress shirt, and skinny black tie from the funeral I had just come from. I was really worried about how I was going to get out of this restaurant without dripping, splashing, or splattering myself, and the bib greatly improved my chances of avoiding besmirchment.

Anyway, the cheese Coney was glorious. Everything my mind and mouth needed, even if my body might possibly regret it later. I could have put away a half-dozen of those, but I had another hour to drive before making it to my parents’ house. Don’t worry, though — I wasn’t done yet.

Yes, there was a hot dog under all that:

I couldn’t leave Fort Lauderdale without enjoying a nice 3-Way, and that was when I saw a sign advertising an “extreme” habanero and cheddar cheese blend as an alternative to the classic cheddar, advising curious diners to “turn up the heat.” So I got that, because if you’re going to have a 3-Way, you might as well make it as hot and extreme as possible. Again, moments later, it was in front of me, steaming, melting, fragrant spicy messy tempting.

This makes quite a mess, as you might expect from a 3-Way, but there were so many flavors and textures to enjoy, and the slower you go, the more sticky and melty everything gets. Thank goodness for that bib! But it totally hit the spot — my first Skyline fix in almost a decade, and on an afternoon where I really needed some uplift.

I should note that my entire bill for the cheese Coney, the 3-Way, and a fountain soda was only $12.70, which seems like a bargain at twice the price.

I should note that the Internet abounds with Cincinnati chili recipes. I’ve even tried some of them, and they’re all decent, if not identical to Skyline’s secret recipe. You can’t go wrong with those basic ingredients. Even if the idea of putting a little cinnamon and unsweetened chocolate in your chili sounds weird and wrong, step out of your culinary comfort zone, because you might discover you like it weird and wrong, and that weird and wrong is really so, so right.

You can also find Skyline Chili at some Publix supermarkets in the frozen food case, and I’ve even seen it in cans at Walmart, near the other canned chili like Hormel and Wolf Brand. It’s an acquired taste, and one I’m sure not all my readers will love, but I believe in trying everything once, and often twice… just to be sure. If you find the frozen or canned Skyline, you can even assemble a 3-Way in the comfort and safety of your own home and try it once for yourselves. Just keep The Saboscrivner in your thoughts while you experiment!

In fact, I’ve been cooking at home so much during this quarantine, writing this review inspired me to make my own Cincinnati-style chili with one of the many Skyline “copycat” recipes that are out there. I used a pound of ground chuck AND a pound of ground turkey, canned tomato sauce but no paste, added cinnamon and unsweetened chocolate I ground with my box grater, and even ground my own cloves and allspice berries in a small coffee grinder I use exclusively for spices. I let the chili sit in the fridge for almost two days before trying it, and that allowed me to skim a lot of the orange congealed fat off the top. Then I served it over good quality Flora brand spaghetti with a blend of extra-sharp cheddar and habanero cheddar that I shredded myself, and it was fantastic. It was thicker than Skyline’s, which I appreciated, and also spicier due to adding a little more cayenne pepper than the recipe I found called for, plus the habanero cheddar to turn up the heat and make it extreme. My cheese (Cabot brand) didn’t melt as quickly or as well as Skyline’s cheese, but my spaghetti was more al dente, and the whole concoction tasted great. Since I used two pounds of meat, I’ll be enjoying 3-Ways at home for the next several days.

Chain Reactions: Bento

It is 2003, and a really hip and cool restaurant empire has started in the most unlikely of places: Gainesville, home of the University of Florida (GO GATORS!), and where your friendly neighborhood Saboscrivner came of age, played in some bands, and earned a few degrees in the late ’90s and early ’00s. The fast-casual pan-Asian restaurant Bento Cafe (https://www.eatatbento.com/) opened its first location in the north central Florida college town in 2003, the last year I lived up there. I remember going there on a particularly great day, that final summer before my final graduation. It was the first place I ever tried beef bulgogi, udon noodles, Thai sweet chili sauce, and boba tea. (Not all in the same meal, though. My head would have exploded from the pure joy of discovery, and I also would not have been able to afford all that back then.)

It is 2009, and Bento Cafe has expanded into downtown Orlando. I have already been living here for five years. On the day of my wedding, while my fiancee was otherwise occupied, I go there for lunch with a group of my friends, killing time before the best night of my life. We take over a long table, over-order (mostly sushi rolls), share everything, and reflect on how much our lives have all changed for the better — maybe mine most of all. The day remains a blur, but the food was good and the company was some of the best ever.

It is 2019, and there are now 14 Bento locations, including three in Gainesville alone and four in Orlando, including Winter Park. My wife and I go back and forth between the UCF and Winter Park locations, living about halfway in between them. Both are solid, dependable favorites, and it’s much easier than going downtown and fighting for paid parking spaces. The food is always good, and the price is right. You can get something hot or cold, raw or cooked, as healthy or unhealthy as you want. You order at the counter, at least at these two locations (downtown Orlando used to have table service and still may), and then they walk your food out to your table.

Hot food comes in the form of rice bowls (white or brown rice), noodle bowls (lo mein, ramen, or really great thick udon), or bento boxes. You choose the dish you want, and if you want chicken, steak, shrimp, or tofu as your protein. I particularly like the spicy beef bulgogi and “Pao Pao” spicy cream-glazed chicken, served stir-fried with green and red bell peppers. I’ll take either of those topping udon noodle bowls, please.

But I’m always drawn back to the build-your-own poke bowls, because I love poke so very much. (See my 2018 review of Poke Hana, another local favorite that made my Top Five favorite dishes of that year in Orlando Weekly.) At Bento Cafe, you can get your poke over white or brown rice, mixed greens, or now noodles, a relatively new choice. Last time I went, for the purposes of writing this review, they were out of noodles, so I stuck with the standard, white rice. I ordered a large bowl ($14) and got tuna, salmon, and smoked salmon, with additions of mango, avocado, cucumber, masago, and wonton chips (you can choose up to five from a longer list), toppings of crispy fried onion and fried garlic (you can choose up to two from a separate list), and spicy mayo for my sauce of choice. I’ll put spicy mayo on almost anything; I don’t even care anymore.It was, and is, absolutely delicious — so many flavors and textures and colors that harmonize together like a major chord that you eat, especially when I mix everything up in the bowl. The only dissonant note came from the wonton chips, which were a little too large and crunchy to add to the harmony. Next time I’d leave those out and get tempura flakes instead, for a more subtle crunch.

Here’s a poke bowl I assembled and photographed on an earlier visit. Looks like I got tempura flakes and cream cheese in this one instead of the wonton chips, and it was probably even better this way.

And here’s a poke bowl my wife ordered at some point in the past:

My wife is usually drawn to their sushi. She used to love a beautiful sashimi platter they made there, but that is no longer on the menu. On this most recent visit, she got the sushi combo box ($11) which is a real deal with an 8-piece California roll, two 4-piece “classic” rolls of her choice, and a salad with ginger dressing. She chose the rainbow roll, with tuna, salmon, yellowtail, krab, avocado, cucumber, and masago, and the Florida roll, with tuna, salmon, cream cheese, avocado, and masago. I believe it also includes some kind of noodles, but as I said, they were out of noodles that day, so it looks like they doubled up on her salad (much to her chagrin).

They used to have a roll we both loved called the Envy roll. This roll had EVERYTHING: salmon, tuna, krab delite, and avocado, and it was topped with kiwi, masago, and sweet chili sauce. Unfortunately, the Envy roll has been gone from the Bento menu for several years, but we still talk about it! It has been interesting to watch them refining the menu over time. There are definitely fewer sushi rolls now, but as poke became a thing (and I’m so glad it did), we have more freedom of choice in being able to build our own poke bowls, and that’s a trade-off I can live with.

It is 2020, and I continue to love Bento Cafe and include it in our regular restaurant rotation. I’m always in the mood for it, and even my wife can always find something good to eat, any time, no matter what she’s in the mood for. That’s the highest praise of all.

Chain Reactions: Twisted Root Burger Co.

Twisted Root Burger Co. (https://www.twistedrootburgerco.com/) is the latest fast-casual burger chain out of Texas to come to Orlando, after Hopdoddy Burger Bar opened earlier this year in the Pointe Orlando mall on International Drive. But luckily for us, Twisted Root opened much closer to where we live, in a little shopping center on Aloma Avenue and Howell Branch Road that has been brought back to life by an influx of new restaurants, including the adjoining Pho Cali and Quickly Boba, which I reviewed in 2018.

Twisted Root goes for a theme of irreverent, wacky fun, with animal head busts above the counter where you order, letting you know which ones are available to eat on any given day. From right to left:

After you place your order, you can go get drinks. There is a full bar, and more options than usual for the non-drinkers. I love hip hop and my wife loves Law and Order: SVU, so this was a delightful display:

Twisted Root serves its own fountain sodas, all made with cane sugar instead of the usual high fructose corn syrup. I sampled sips of the watermelon Ice-T, cream soda, root beer, and lemonade, and the cream soda was my favorite. A refillable drink is $2.25, by the way. I think that would be worth it for most, just to try their versions of all the different sodas and teas.

Pass the soda fountain and you will encounter the pickle bar. I’ve written before about how I’ve never been a big fan of pickles, but I’m all about trying them now, to grow my appreciation for them. Needless to say, I had to try all five varieties here, especially since they’re free! From left to right: atomic (spicy), sweet & spicy, ranch, bread & butter, and dill. I think I liked the bread & butter pickles the most, and there was only one flavor I really disliked — I think it was probably the ranch. This was a nice feature, especially because I’m not willing to shell out for whole jars of pickles I might not like, the way I do with mustards and other condiments (and new flavors of chips and sodas).

When you order, they give you a buzzer with a pop culture icon on it to alert you that your food is ready to pick up from the counter. We got Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson, which was aces with me, because I used to be a huge pro wrestling fan and am slowly wading back into that pool, and also because he elevates almost every movie he’s in. Seriously, The Rock makes decent movies better and terrible movies tolerable.

When our buzzer went off so quickly, I was surprised our food was already ready, since the place was so slammed they had shut down one of their cash registers to give the kitchen a chance to catch up. But it was just my wife’s s’mores milkshake ($6).
Her verdict: it was okay. She thought the marshmallow tasted like lighter fluid. I had some and liked it fine, I think even more than she did. But I could take or leave marshmallows, whereas she is a connoisseur.

It didn’t take that much longer for The Rock to buzz us again, letting me know our food was ready. I ordered the Freedom Melt ($11), served on “Texas toast” with cheddar cheese, lettuce, tomato, fried onion straws, and brisket on top — a very “me” burger to order. Be forewarned that Twisted Root cooks all burgers MEDIUM WELL unless you ask them not to, and I’m not down with that. I asked for mine medium rare, and it came out between medium rare and medium, but still very juicy. I’ve been spoiled by too much great barbecue brisket, at our well-respected homegrown chain 4 Rivers Smokehouse, and most recently, at the fantastic Git-N-Messy Barbecue in Sanford. So I guess I was expecting shredded (but recognizable) brisket on top of my burger, instead of the finely-chopped (and probably sauced) meat I got. It was tastier than I expected and definitely tastier than it looked, nice and smoky (again, possibly from the sauce), but it reminded me of really tender chopped beef jerky even more than brisket.

I haven’t done a

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feature in a while, but Twisted Root offers fried onion strings ($3), and those count! They were good — never as satisfying or substantial as thicker-cut, beer-battered onion rings, but they added a good dimension to my burger and gave me stuff to dip (more on that later).

My wife ordered a venison burger ($10), one of the special game meats, on “Texas toast,” otherwise served plain. I didn’t get a picture of it, but it looked like pretty much any other burger. She ate the whole thing, which is a good sign that she liked it. She ordered hand-cut potato chips ($2) as her side, a nice-sized order of crispy (not overly crunchy) chips that were just salty enough. I had to help her finish those, happily.

A friendly manager came by to ask us how we were liking everything, and she was really craving honest feedback. The ONLY complaint I had, and it’s a minor one, was that the “Texas toast” wasn’t what we were expecting. I really love getting Texas toast at my beloved Waffle House — thick slices of white Wonder bread, spread liberally with butter and then grilled on both sides. The “Texas toast” both of our burgers came on was just regular white bread: not thick, not square, not Wonder, definitely not buttered or grilled, and barely even toasted. I always hate to complain about anything, but she asked, and it was a minor quibble. I think thicker bread, buttered and grilled, would add so much richness to the burgers. If they don’t change it, I’ll simply order a brioche bun with my burger on my next visit.

I was already digging Twisted Root offering so many choices (sodas, sides, pickles), but their condiment game is also strong. Every table has squeeze bottles of Heinz ketchup and yellow mustard, plus these three beauties. The horseradish Dijon mustard was fabulous (I’d buy a jar), the ancho chipotle ketchup was great, but as much as I love root beer AND barbecue sauce, I thought it was a little too thin and tasted a little too much of molasses.

So this restaurant is a real “get” for our quiet, boring little area where Winter Springs, Oviedo, and Winter Park run together. It was super-busy when we were there, but that was also a Friday night on its opening week. I think they will do very well, especially since the shopping center has returned to life. I liked my burger much more than some of the more popular fast-casual contenders, and I love all the different options and how close it is to our home.

Oh, one last thing: the men’s restroom is wallpapered with silly memes and sayings about the most overrated action movie “star” of all time, which I feel obligated to point out after praising the career of Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson earlier in this review. Yes, you can’t wash your hands without being inundated with tall tales of Texas’ own adopted son Chuck Norris, who I don’t think ever made a good movie or TV show. I don’t know how beatifying Chuck Norris became a thing. Sure, he was a legit martial artist, unlike many of the other action actors of the ’70s and ’80s, but Norris was a charisma vacuum, compared to Arnold Schwarzenegger, Bruce Willis, Keanu Reeves, Jason Statham, The Rock, and the vast majority of superhero actors. Heck, even Jean-Claude Van Damme had two great (or at least memorable) movies in his career, and if any Saboscrivner readers think you can guess what they are, then let me know!

Chain Reactions: Popeyes

My readers may have heard some news a while back about a certain fried chicken sandwich controversy. Barely three months ago, the Louisiana-based fried chicken chain Popeyes (https://www.popeyes.com/), came out with a chicken sandwich for the first time ever, upending the balance of power in fast food chicken sandwiches and making people everywhere lose their damn minds.

Almost everyone I know either tried the Popeyes chicken sandwich and loved it (like my best friend down in Miami), or tried to, but were foiled every time by long lines and stores selling out (like me). There were some haters too — either loyalists to the long-standing chicken sandwich champion, or people who claim to never eat fast food for any number of legitimate reasons (which is all good, but they might miss out on something tasty). And almost as quickly as the hype grew around this sandwich for those two or three weeks in the late summer, Popeyes pulled it from their menus everywhere, and life moved on. I ended up discovering and reviewing the greatest chicken sandwiches I’ve ever had in my life at Winter Park’s own Swine & Sons, and those went a long way toward helping me get over my FOMO.

I was wondering if Popeyes got rid of their biggest hit ever because they weren’t prepared to deal with the insane demand. It might have been a personnel issue — assembling sandwiches has to be more labor-intensive than boxing up the whole pieces of fried chicken, and every Popeyes restaurant I’ve ever been to is always understaffed. It might have been a problem in the supply chain, as there was an annoying ad campaign in the weeks that followed encouraging customers to BYOB, or “Bring Your Own Bun.” Maybe they wanted to create artificial demand through scarcity, but regardless, they listened to the people, because this game-changing chicken sandwich is back now, as of Sunday, November 3rd. And this time, hopefully it’s here to stay.

Constant Readers, I failed you back in August. Even though I had every intention of eating and reviewing this sandwich, I never got my hands or mouth on one in time, and then they were gone. But there’s no way I was going to let you down you again. I got to Popeyes on the morning of November 3rd, shortly after it opened at 10:30 AM, but as you would expect (and I kinda did expect), half of Seminole County had the same idea and was already there.

The drive-through line snaked through the huge shared parking lot at this location, so I parked far away so I wouldn’t get blocked in later, and took my chances waiting inside. This was the smart move. I was back home with my to-go order in just over an hour, and I didn’t have to waste half a tank of gas idling in the car. If you go in the days and weeks to come, expect some wait, but the line definitely moves faster inside. Eventually I got my order, and I was home in fewer than ten minutes, so everything was still hot and crispy.

This was the spicy chicken sandwich, which I loved. The fried chicken breast was juicy and bursting with flavor. I admit I was expecting to be disappointed, because Popeyes chicken can be quite inconsistent. When you get a fresh batch, it’s amazing, but I’ve had far too much sad, dry chicken there. I typically stick to dark meat, particularly thighs, which I think are more flavorful and less likely to get dried out, but this was a really fantastic fried chicken breast. It was huge, too, and the buttermilk-based batter wasn’t just lightly crispy — it was CRUNCHY, even after steaming in its little foil pouch as I raced home. Well-played, Popeyes. I can’t conceive of a better fast food chicken sandwich. I emphasize fast food because even though there are certainly better chicken sandwiches out there (like the Swine & Sons versions), those are $11 while this one is $4, almost one-third of the price. Unfortunately, I thought they were rather stingy with the spicy mayo, and would have loved some more on it.

This was the regular, non-spicy sandwich ($3.99 each without the combo). It should come with mayo as well as pickles, but they left the mayo of both regular sandwiches I ordered — one for myself so I could try both versions, and one for my wife who doesn’t like anything spicy. All three sandwiches came with two thin pickle slices, and now that I’m starting to appreciate pickles more, I would have been happy to get even more pickles on them. By the way, the buns are brioche — soft and fluffy, buttered, and lightly toasted. It’s a fantastic bun to serve this kind of sandwich on.

You mean to tell me you’ve never heard of the Millennium Falcon?

Since my regular chicken sandwich didn’t have any mayo, it was a perfect opportunity to sample two different Popeyes sauces. I cut the sandwich down the middle, making sure there was one pickle slice on each half, and applied one of these sauces to each:

The Mardi Gras Mustard is a creamy Creole-style mustard (savory, but not spicy at all) that went well with the chicken, but the Voodoo Sauce was awesome on the other half. It was thin and runny, sticky, sweet, and slightly spicy — extremely similar to a Thai sweet chili sauce. And it jazzed up that sandwich just perfectly. I should have added a schmear of my own mayo too (I only buy Duke’s), but I wanted to stick to just Popeyes’ own condiments for the purposes of this review.

And here is what might be the very best menu item from any fast food restaurant anywhere: Popeyes red beans and rice ($2.29 if you order the small separately, or it can be one of the sides you pick in your combo meal). This is the perfect, quintessential version of this classic Louisiana dish. Rich, thick, and smoky, it transcends this fast food fried chicken chain and could hold its own against high-tone versions of red beans and rice in some of New Orleans’ finest chef-driven establishments. I know a lot of chefs agree and sing its praises, including Momofuku’s founder and all-around cool dude David Chang.

When I finally got up to the cashier, she kept trying to cut me off and complete my order after every item I ordered. Our conversation went something like this:

“I’d like a spicy chicken sandwich combo, and…”
“Okay, that’ll be $6.99 plus tax.”
“Oh! But I would also like two regular chicken sandwiches, not the combos, and…”
“Okay, that’ll be…”
“Sorry, I wanted red beans and rice as the side for my combo, and also…”
“Beans and rice, gotcha. That’ll be…”
“Sorry, I would also like to try the bourbon fudge pie, and…”
“Adding on the bourbon fudge pie! So your order comes to…”
“NO, WAIT! I’d also like the pumpkin cream cheese pie!”

So yeah, it was a battle, and I ended up apologizing a heck of a lot, unnecessarily (which I do far too often). But they have pie, and I love pie, and I really wanted to share them with my wife and review them for you. But I really had to fight, just to be able to order them!

The bourbon fudge pie ($2.49) is a small slice that we just cut down the middle. The fudgy filling is rich, thick, and damn tasty, but the crust is completely tasteless and serves no real purpose. We weren’t expecting much for $2.49, but it was like a cheap, knockoff version of local Chef Trina Gregory-Propst’s delicious signature dark chocolate sea salt caramel pie at her beloved Orlando restaurant and bakery Se7en Bites. And that pie has the best pie crust ever, so y’all need to make it over there and try hers, maybe even before you try these chicken sandwiches.

The pumpkin cream cheese pie is your typical fast food turnover pie. If you haven’t tried the very similar apple pie at Popeyes, you’ve probably had it at McDonald’s at some point in your life. You might even remember when the McDonald’s apple pies used to be fried to a crisp, back in the ’80s!

Here’s a cross-section: a strip of sweet pumpkin “pie” filling, and a strip of sweetened cream cheese. The crust wasn’t anything special, but still better than the extremely bland, flavorless bourbon fudge pie crust.

Anyway, these chicken sandwiches are so good, I went back a few days later to a different location and waited about 25 minutes, just so I could get another one. I got another spicy boi and asked for extra spicy sauce, but the cashier said there isn’t a button on the register for extra sauce, so they couldn’t do it. That particular sandwich didn’t come with pickles, but it was still mighty fine. Tender and juicy, crispy breading, perfect bun (any burger would be honored to be served on a bun prepared that well), and slightly more of that spicy sauce that really brings everything together.

However, this time I asked for macaroni and cheese as the side, because I know the late, great Anthony Bourdain loved Popeyes mac and cheese, as well as their chicken. I love mac and cheese too, so I had to try it.

The mac and cheese was pretty standard, like what you’d get at a soul food or barbecue place. Very similar to the mac and cheese at Orlando’s homegrown barbecue chain 4 Rivers Smokehouse and its Southern spinoff restaurant The Coop, in fact. Not baked or anything, no bread crumbs or crispy layer of cheese — just al dente elbow macaroni in sticky, gluey, salty orange cheese. I can see it being beloved comfort food, especially for someone like Bourdain, a world-weary traveler who sometimes craved simple tastes of home.

I am trying really hard to avoid sodas, but this second Popeyes location had an unfamiliar label on the soda fountain — a drink I had never seen before or even heard of, and I try to stay apprised of such things!

There is precious little information about Mirinda online, but it started out as a brand from Spain, and PepsiCo bought it. They produce many different fruit-flavored sodas, so I guess Pepsi saw it as a way to compete against Coke’s Fanta brand. I’ve tried a few different strawberry sodas before, and they always taste more like strawberry candy than the actual fruit. This one was no exception. It was almost sickeningly sweet, and I was glad I only took a few sips. I ended up refilling my cup with Popeyes sweet tea while I waited for my food, and between the Mirinda soda and strong, acidic sweet tea, I ended up with acid reflux for the first few hours of my workday, long before I even indulged with a fried chicken sandwich and macaroni and cheese. Serves me right, I guess!

Chain Reactions: Texas de Brazil

Back in the day, when we all could eat more than we can now, my dad was a huge fan of all-you-can-eat restaurants, especially the many Chinese buffets around Miami in the ’80s and ’90s. He knew each one’s strengths and weaknesses: which ones had the best spare ribs, the best fantail shrimp, the best house special fried rice, and so forth. He was a beloved regular at a lot of those places, and even though he wouldn’t consider himself a foodie, it was his quest for the best versions of a dish and the best bargains around South Florida that started your Saboscrivner on my persistent path as a culinary explorer, reporter, and reference librarian.

But beyond the Chinese buffets, the height of luxury was the all-you-can-eat Brazilian churrascaria, Texas de Brazil (https://texasdebrazil.com/), a decadent steakhouse where uniformed gauchos walk a never-ending parade of grilled meats to your table, impaled on giant swords, for you to enjoy until you slip into a meat coma. This was our destination for the most special of special occasions, our most rare and revered restaurant. There were multiple steaks, including filet mignon (some wrapped in bacon!), Brazilian picanha, and flank steak, parmesan-crusted chicken and pork, Brazilian sausage, lamb chops, leg of lamb, and a star player I’m saving for last because it is the best.

Beyond the meats is a sumptuous salad bar, if one could even call it that — one of the most bountiful, bombastic, breathtaking buffets imaginable, where the actual salad is a mere afterthought alongside fancy salami and prosciutto, fresh mozzarella orbs, spreadable Boursin cheese, fancy Spanish manchego (sheep-milk cheese), cold-smoked salmon, chilled marinated shrimp, California rolls, roasted peppers, caramelized garlic cloves, and other roasted, grilled, marinated, and pickled vegetables. You also help yourself to luscious lobster bisque, and the gauchos also grace your table with soft Brazilian cheese buns, mashed potatoes (I usually ignore both of those), and fried bananas served with cinnamon and sugar (big fan here).

Note that all this decadence doesn’t come cheap. The all-you-can-eat dinner is normally $49.99, or you can opt for just the salad bar (which is honestly my favorite part of Texas de Brazil, and would be a fine, full meal on its own) for $24.99. Monday through Friday, lunch is somewhat discounted at $34.99. Still, it’s way too extravagant for us more than once a year (and believe me, we don’t even do this once a year).

But we did last year, and we did again this past weekend, thanks to a very special month in Orlando called Magical Dining. Every September, our official tourism association Visit Orlando sets up Magical Dining with dozens of participating restaurants all over the city, generally mid-to-upscale establishments. Each restaurant announces a prix fixe menu with a few options to choose from: appetizers, entrees, and desserts, and the price is $35. This is a real bargain at most of these restaurants, and it gives people who might not normally treat themselves a chance to try some delicious dishes at new, unfamiliar, and highly vaunted restaurants around town at a discounted price. And best of all, $1 from each Magical Dining bill goes to a number of worthy local charities!

My wife and I rarely take part in Magical Dining. As you can tell from this blog, we generally gravitate toward more casual restaurants, and very few of those participate. At these higher-end places, sometimes there isn’t an appetizer, an entree, and a dessert on the Magical Dining menu that appeal to both of us, and we figure we’d rather hold out for a special occasion and order our top choices off the full menu, not a small, curated list of options. (Of course, you can still order off the regular menu at any of these places during Magical Dining.)

But Texas de Brazil might be the best deal of all, because you get the full salad bar, the full unlimited meats, AND a dessert (which normally costs extra) for the excellent discounted price of $35 (plus tip, of course). That’s a bargain, for all the same stuff plus a dessert! My wife loves steak, we’re both crazy about lamb, and I go nuts for sausages and that spectacular, stupendous, sublime… sensual salad bar. We squeezed in a reservation for the last weekend of Magical Dining, which I strongly recommend you do next year.

We arrived before our 5:00 reservation, in time to hit the salad bar buffet early, before it would be ravaged by ravenous rubes. Dig the artful presentation of beautiful cured meats:

Some of the Saboscrivner’s greatest hits on this buffet plate, even chilled couscous salad in a vinaigrette and some of the best potato salad ever. I am careful not to fill up on carbs, but I can’t make a rare visit to TdB and not load up a plate with these wonders. Rest assured, dear readers — I was a member of the Clean Plate Club.

Meanwhile, the gauchos were coming around, so I was building up a supply of meat to last me some time, while going through my buffet items. This plate includes medium-rare flank steak (left), two lamb chops (top), two slices of picanha (right), part of a sausage (bottom, next to the fried banana). GO AHEAD, TAKE THESE BANANAS!A lot of the meats tend to be more done than we both like, so we always ask for as rare as possible, and end up content with medium rare. I find all of Texas de Brazil’s meats to be extremely salty, so keep that in mind too.

But here’s the star of the show, both of our favorite meat: BRAISED BEEF RIB, sliced right off the giant bones in front of us. If you go to Texas de Brazil, it’s very possible you might not even realize this was one of the meats being walked around. It doesn’t circulate often, probably because it’s an expensive cut that takes a long time to prepare. And as far as I can tell from having had two or three TdB lunches, they don’t offer it at lunch time! Last year for Magical Dining, we learned to very politely request it as soon as we were seated, and then to get at least two slices once it makes its way to us. I love braised, stewed, and other slow-cooked meats even more than grilled steaks, and this beef rib is fork-tender. It seriously shreds apart with just the side of your fork, and then completely melts in your mouth.

I’m proud to say that neither of us wasted any food, but I was stuffed after finishing everything you saw above, and my wife got equally stuffed from a lot less (but she didn’t mess with the buffet like I did, minus a couple of those spicy marinated chilled shrimp). I had ladled us each a bowl of lobster bisque at the beginning, but ended up having hers at the end of my meal, because it’s too good, and it would have been a shanda to waste a drop.

And after all that, we were still entitled to desserts, included in the Magical Dining deal! We got our desserts boxed up to take home, because we couldn’t eat another bite. There were two selections, and we each chose the one you would expect us to choose, if you know us.

Unfortunately, my wife’s chocolate cake was very dry and disappointing:

My Brazilian cheesecake was pretty good, because even bad cheesecake is pretty good, but it was a small sliver:

Bonus pictures of the desserts we took home back in 2018, the last time we were here (also for Magical Dining Month):

Key lime pie that was much better than either of this year’s dessert options:

Bananas Foster pie that was incredible, that I was wishin’ and hopin’ they would offer again this year:

Coconut chess pie that was also spectacular:

I don’t remember which two were included, and which one we paid extra for just to try it, but all three of these were awesome, and far better than this year’s two dessert choices. But then again, I’m a pie guy.

So here are your takeaways:

Magical Dining is a wonderful thing, and you should totally treat yourself next September, whether it’s here or one of Orlando’s other great participating restaurants.
Texas de Brazil is an incredible indulgence, a sensational splurge, a truly unique and celebratory destination for carnivores, gourmands, and just plain old hungry people. Heck, if you’re doing a low-carb diet, it could be a great restaurant to cut loose in, since meat and most salad bar offerings are the star attractions and carbs are supporting players. My wife and I love it, but now we’re good for another year, or probably far longer. We got it out of our systems for a while, and no, that wasn’t a colon-related joke.
Or was it?

Rosati’s Pizza

I watch a lot of TV, but I like to think I only watch good shows — well-made, well-written, well-acted. And if I watch a sitcom, it’s going to be legitimately funny, not one of those cringeworthy canned-laughter multicams. One of my newest TV discoveries is South Side on Comedy Central, a sitcom set in the South Side of Chicago, created by the insanely talented and hilarious Bashir Salahuddin and Diallo Riddle. This showrunner duo also has an even funnier show on IFC called Sherman’s Showcase, which will certainly end up in my Top Ten Shows of 2019. I highly recommend jumping into both shows while you can, since their first seasons are still airing, and you can catch up on the Comedy Central and IFC websites I linked to above, or maybe on demand.

Anyway, in last night’s episode of South Side, the lead character Simon made the controversial claim of not liking Chicago’s famous deep dish pizza because “It’s just a lasagna with crust.” I too have joked before that “It’s not pizza; it’s a casserole!” I’ve found deep dish pizza to be far too greasy, dense, and heavy — both by weight and how it sits in my gut afterwards. But my wife loves the stuff, the same way I swear by Sicilian pizza, like the kind they serve at one of my local favorites, Pizzeria Del Dio.

But fate intervened yesterday, in the form of one of my Orlando Foodie Forum friends posting that Rosati’s (https://myrosatis.com/), a Chicago pizzeria known for its deep dish, was opening at the intersection of University and Goldenrod where the Lucky’s Market is, not far from where I work. Still chuckling over the “lasagna with crust” comment, I mentioned it to my wife during the South Side commercial break, and since she loves it so much, we decided to go today. It was the second day this Rosati’s location was open for business, but they were ready for us, and they made an excellent first impression. It was even more of a treat after eating everything in our fridge and freezer for most of the last week, expecting a hurricane that never made it here.

Rosati’s opened in a very small space. It is set up mostly like a takeout pizzeria where you order at the counter, but they do have two tables that can each seat four, as well as a counter with some high-top stools. We had every intention of eating there, so we could try the pizza hot and fresh. As you can see, they also offer appetizers, wings, salads, pasta dishes, sandwiches, and desserts. It’s probably much easier to read the menu on the website above, but this way you can see some prices.

We ordered the 10″ deep dish with sausage, the smallest one they make, which can feed two to three people. Even though we were hungry, we know this is rich and heavy pizza, and a little goes a long way. It came out in about 15 minutes, and it was great! It didn’t have the greasy, buttery crust that Giordano’s and Lou Malnati’s pizzas are known for. (We had Lou’s on a Chicago trip about five years ago, and Giordano’s near the Orange County Convention Center in “tourist town.”) This crust was light and fluffy, with a nice crispy outer layer that wasn’t burnt or dry. It reminded me more of the brilliant and easy cast-iron skillet pizza recipe I have perfected over the last year, created by Bon Appetit’s delightful and creative test chef Claire Saffitz. The tomato sauce was much chunkier than typical pizza sauce, in typical Chicago deep dish fashion, the cheese was melty and had a nice pull to it, and the sausage was flavorful and not overly greasy either.

Rosati’s only had paper plates available because they were still getting situated, but that was totally fine with us. Here’s a single slice from the pizza that looks small, but it’s a lot of food. I ate two slices and my wife just had one, so we have plenty of leftovers to warm in our toaster oven tomorrow.

But surprise of surprises, Rosati’s sells three kinds of pizza: deep dish (apparently a bigger hit among Chicago’s tourists), a thin-crust pizza that many locals prefer, and a hand-rolled “double-dough” pizza. You can order single slices of the double-dough (though not the thin-crust), so I had to try it as well. It’s a large slice, not unlike a typical New York-style slice, but thicker and softer, without the thin crispiness of New York pizza. I asked for pepperoni on this single slice, and as you can see, they were extremely generous with the pepperoni. I also appreciated that each slice of pepperoni didn’t curl into a crunchy little grease-cup, which is why I’m sometimes hesitant to order pepperoni on pizza. Blasphemy, you say? I prefer my pepperoni cold on a sandwich, but this was a good example of a slice of pepperoni pizza. And just so you all know, I cut this slice down the middle and have only eaten half so far.

Since there is often talk about Chicago’s beloved Italian beef sandwiches on the Orlando Foodie Forum, I saw Rosati’s offered them and had to order one for later. This was obviously a lot of food, and you haven’t even seen it all yet! The Italian beef sandwich came with fries, and we did eat most of them at the restaurant, since cold fries are a shande (a shame) and an abomination. They were crinkle-cut fries, very well-salted, and served with packets of Red Gold ketchup, a brand you hardly ever see around here. (Maybe it’s also a Chicago thing.) My wife loves crinkle-cut fries, so that was a nice little bonus.

We chatted with one of the gentlemen in charge of opening up this Rosati’s location. He told us he is based in Chicago but travels around the country for the company, opening up new restaurants and training the staff. We talked a little about different regional pizzas and the food scenes in Chicago and Orlando, and we wished him well as he got this location up and running.

And he couldn’t have been a nicer guy, because while we were still elbow-deep in pizza and fries, he came out with this box of zeppole for us, little nuggets of pizza dough, crispy on the outside and fluffy-soft on the inside, dusted with powdered sugar and served with a big dipping cup of gooey Nutella. This was completely complimentary, just for us being so enthusiastic on their second day. We were very touched by the unexpected gift, and my wife was over the moon because she loves desserts like this. They’re kind of like beignets. This was a giant portion, and we haven’t even made a dent in half of it.

So we came home with lots of leftovers:

And I unwrapped the Italian beef sandwich and heated it up for dinner. For those who are unfamiliar, an Italian beef is a famous Chicago street food, served at establishments like Portillo’s (which has expanded into Florida but not Orlando yet) and Buona Beef. The sandwich is stuffed with thin slices of seasoned roast beef, served on an Italian roll, often with au jus and topped with sweet peppers, hot pickled giardinera vegetables, or a combination of the two. If you think I asked for the combination, you’d be right. I also paid a $1 upcharge to get my Italian beef on garlic bread, because I am grateful to be gainfully employed and don’t have to worry about such things anymore.

Here it is with the au jus, which I opted to get on the side in a cup, rather than have it poured over the sandwich (“dipped,” another option, but it would have made a real mess since I ate it several hours later).

It was very tasty and good quality, but extremely salty. Between our pizza lunch and this sandwich for dinner, I have drunk several glasses of water and a big bottle of Gatorade today. I love a good roast beef sandwich, but I think I prefer mine cold, with rare roast beef, some kind of cheese, some kind of onions (grilled, sauteed, or caramelized), horseradish, mustard, and a creamy sauce to tie it all together. That’s not to say there was anything wrong with this Italian beef. I haven’t had one in many years, and Rosati’s nailed this quintessential Chicago classic, as synonymous with the Windy City as the Blues Brothers and da Bearss (and hopefully one day, South Side). But like the deep dish pizza, you have to be in the mood for it. You have to be ready. You might want to set aside some time for a nap, and to have some Gatorade on hand to rehydrate due to all the salt.

So that’s Rosati’s. We liked it, we’ll definitely go back, and I hope they stick around and are successful. We don’t have many options in Orlando for deep dish pizza or Italian beef sandwiches, so if you’re from Chicago and missing your old favorites, or you just love the new and novel like we do, pay them a visit and give them a warm welcome to Winter Park!

Chain Reactions: Hopdoddy Burger Bar

Note: On May 18, 2020, the Orlando Hopdoddy Burger Bar I reviewed announced it has permanently closed.

Hopdoddy Burger Bar (https://www.hopdoddy.com/) is a chain that comes to us from Texas. The first Florida location opened earlier this year in the Pointe Orlando shopping center on busy International Drive, and it definitely worth a stop if you’re catching a movie at the Regal theater, a stand-up comedy set at the Improv, or attending MegaCon, our massive pop culture convention, in May. That’s where my best food friend and I were coming from when we popped in for lunch before a showing of John Wick 3.

Hopdoddy is a fast-casual burger chain, so if you’ve been to BurgerFi, Shake Shack, or Fuddruckers, you know the score. You order at the counter, and they bring the food to your table when it’s ready. The burgers are larger and much better quality than fast food, but the prices are much more reasonable than most table-service restaurants.

My buddy went with a classic cheeseburger, topped with Tillamook cheddar, “Sassy Sauce,” and the traditional lettuce, tomato, and onion. He said it really hit the spot:

It was cooked to a perfect medium:

I ordered the Good Night/Good Cause burger, which got its name from Hopdoddy donating $1 from every burger ordered to a local charity. It includes Angus beef, Tillamook cheddar, caramelized onions (I’m always a sucker for them on anything), jalapeños (nice and fresh and crunchy and spicy, not the pickled ones from a jar), caffeinated barbecue sauce, “Sassy Sauce,” lettuce, and tomato. It was a very tasty burger, and I give both of them bonus points for being served on fresh-baked brioche buns, lightly toasted on the griddle.

I almost always request my burgers medium rare:

The hand-cut regular fries were fresh and hot, dusted with herbs and served in a huge metal bowl:

We had to try those regular fries as a “control,” to fully appreciate these massive chili cheese fries. These were awesome — topped with a hearty, beanless chili that had lots of flavor but wasn’t spicy, melty queso, diced green onions, jalapeños, and dollops of sour cream. The forks were appreciated.

Sauces included honey mustard, caffeinated barbecue sauce, and slightly spicy ketchup. I’m all about sauces, dips, and condiments, and these did not disappoint, especially as we took on those heroic portions of fries.

I’m hardly ever down on I-Drive. In fact, I try to avoid that side of Orlando. I might not even be back in the area until MegaCon 2020 (or unless a comedian I like comes to the Improv first), but I’d totally return to Hopdoddy Burger Bar next time I’m down that way. It’s a fantastic new option and a great value amid the pricey, upscale chain restaurants and basic bar food of Pointe Orlando, and who doesn’t appreciate a tasty burger?

Chain Reactions: Krystal (the all-you-can-eat adventure)

When it comes to food, almost everyone has a guilty pleasure. Maybe yours is Cadbury Creme Eggs (wisely bought on sale after Easter and saved in the depths of your freezer so you can enjoy one every month of the year that follows when nobody else has any), or trashy frozen French bread pizzas that remind you of hanging out at your friends’ houses in high school, or possibly even intimidating sandwiches you painstakingly assemble using two of those French bread pizzas in place of a sub roll, like a true sandwich artiste (particularly going for that self-destructive streak too many artists share). It might be something as simple as ice cream, or fries, or fries dipped in said ice cream. You might have a love-hate relationship with these foods. Indulging might make you feel bad physically after the initial rush of excitement and joy, but you can’t help yourself. Or they might bring you to a happy and comfortable place at the time, but then you feel shame or depression later on, like so many dysfunctional relationships.

After a disastrous attempt at the keto diet back in 2017, I now firmly believe we should eat whatever we want, just maybe a little bit less of it at each sitting, and maybe not indulge quite as often. But life is full of pain and suffering and misery and unhappiness, and it’s all over much too quickly. I say we should just take our pleasures where we can find them — ideally with some modicrum of moderation — and not feel too guilty.

Of course, that’s easier said than done when when of your (by which I mean my) guiltiest food pleasures are cheese Krystals, tiny little cheeseburgers served with mustard, onions, and a pickle slice on soft steamed buns. Krystals (sometimes colloquially referred to as “sliders”) are the signature item from the fast food chain Krystal (https://krystal.com/). If this sounds familiar, you might be thinking of White Castle, a fast food chain located throughout the Northern U.S. We don’t have White Castle here (and I’ve never had a chance to go to one), but Krystal is the Southern equivalent. Founded in 1932 in Chattanooga, Tennessee, Krystal’s website claims it is the second-oldest fast food restaurant. Locations are decorated in white and red and have a bit of a retro feel to them, and they’re usually sparkling clean and bright.

As you might guess, the Krystal burgers are very cheap (being a product of the Great Depression), remaining one of the better fast food values today. They are meant to be consumed in mass quantities, and as you might also guess, they are not exactly health food. I usually only go to Krystal once or twice a year, and luckily I have to drive out of my way to go to one, keeping it a rare indulgence. When I go, I usually order a dozen cheese Krystals, and each soft little slider is lovingly tucked into a cardboard sleeve with one open side. I’ll reach into the bag on my passenger seat and wolf down several of them before I even make it home. Hey, I’m not proud.

But perhaps in an attempt to reach out to people like me, Krystal recently instituted an all-you-can-eat deal, offering unlimited Krystals and fries for $5.99. (This deal is for dining in only. You can’t get it to go, and you can’t leave and come back later and hope to get more.) I had to try it, for the sake of this food blog and my dozens of vaguely-interested readers. I figured I would live-blog my experience as I ate more and more sliders, perhaps chronicling my physical and mental decline, and to see how long I could stay in the restaurant, how many they would be willing to serve at a time, whether I could beat my previous Krystal record of eating twelve, and whether or not I’d wear out my welcome before I tapped out. I love the state of journalism in 2019, don’t you?

Here’s a twist: I don’t think Krystal’s fries are anything special, so perhaps for the first time in the very short history of their all-you-can-eat deal, I asked them to hold the fries and just give me cheese Krystals. (The incredulous cashier said “Are you sure? The fries are included!”) Just so ya know, the cheese is a $2 upcharge, but I think it’s totally worth it, as long as we’re indulging. I also ordered a drink, a Sprite slushie for $1. Hey, big spender!

So instead of giving you a tray laden with a precarious leaning tower of burgers like an old Jughead comic book cover, they start you out with four at a time. If I had wanted fries, they would have given me a regular order of fries to begin with as well.

Well, these sliders slide down real easy, so it wasn’t long before I went back to the counter and asked for a re-up. Luckily they weren’t busy. You can tell some time has passed because I drank about a third of the Sprite slushie with the first round. Here’s round two: four more cheese Krystals.

I took my time with those soft, squishy, oniony, mustardy, cheesy little monsters, but I wasn’t ready to surrender to the sweet embrace of oblivion yet. Like I said, my record for Krystals consumed had been twelve — sadly my usual order for the once or twice a year I drive through. Whatever happened, I wanted to at least top that. Why, you ask? I couldn’t really tell you, dear Saboscrivnerinos. Bragging rights? I hardly think this is anything to brag about.

So I asked the nice lady for an order of five more, just so I’d have thirteen in all, and I could reevaluate my options after that. She didn’t even argue with me. I was clearly a man who came to play, who meant business, who could hold his sliders with the best of them. Here they are, the Furious Five with no Grandmaster Flash in sight, and one-third of the slushie remaining.

In case there was any doubt remaining, I inhaled them.

And you know what? After that, I made what might have been the smartest move I made that day — I called it a day. Walked away while I was still on top (so to speak), quit while I was ahead (arguably), didn’t foolishly try to hit some arbitrary new Krystal milestone like 20, or doubling my old record with 24.

I ate thirteen of those things, and they were delicious, and I got it out of my system (pun very much intended). I don’t need to return to Krystal for a while now — I’m good! By the time I make it back, this dangerous all-you-can-eat deal will probably be over, and that’s fine with me. I did the unthinkable that day, fearless readers, and lived to tell about it. It was an intense 15 minutes that afternoon, let me tell you!

Chain Reactions: Hawkers Asian Street Fare

The pan-Asian restaurant Hawkers (https://eathawkers.com/) started as a small, hip, industrial-looking modern space on Mills Avenue, in what may be Orlando’s best neighborhood for dining out, Mills 50. Since 2011, it has expanded into ten locations in multiple states, and for good reason: it’s terrific. We’ve gone countless times since it opened, almost always to that original location.

Hawkers specializes in diverse street food specialties from China, Malaysia, Thailand, Vietnam, Japan, Indonesia, Singapore, Korea, and more. Portions are relatively small, so it’s a great place to go with a group and share lots of dishes. And very few items on the menu are over $10, so you don’t have to worry too much or feel too guilty ordering more than one dish to sample new things.

Hawkers is a real treasure, and it has emerged as one of my favorite restaurants to bring out-of-town visitors — a perfect distillation of Orlando’s multicultural culinary scene, especially its Asian influences. It has impressed good friends from far and wide when they come to visit, and in the meantime, it has become a safe, reliable place to bring my wife when one or both of us have a hard time deciding what sounds best. If you want something healthy or heavy, meaty or veggie, cool or spicy, noodles or rice, soups or salads, and now even a sweet treat of a brunch, Hawkers will have something you like.

For my most recent visit, I caught up with an old friend with connections to my old Miami friend group, who I then got to know better while we both studied in Gainesville. I hadn’t seen him since 2006, which is insane. In that time, we both met amazing women and got married, and he had kids. It’s crazy! Life happens. He happened to be in Orlando for work that day and looked me up, hoping to meet for dinner and remembering I’m the guy who knows where to eat around here. I was so glad to catch up with my old friend, and I knew Hawkers would be the perfect place to get together. I have yet to meet anyone who isn’t amazed and astonished by it.

For this dinner, I started us out with an order of roti canai, which are buttery, flaky Malaysian flatbreads. Think about a really good, fresh, fluffy flour tortilla getting it on with a layer you peel off a delicate French croissant, and you’ll come close to the glory and grandeur of a Malaysian roti. An order of a single roti with a cup of curry sauce for dipping is $3, and each additional roti costs $1.50. Count on ordering at least one roti for everyone in your party, and I guarantee you’ll want more. Even people with the most unadventurous palates will love these, although those people might want to forego the curry sauce. If you have kids, they will love these things too.

I also requested an order of Korean twice-fried chicken wings ($8), which are my favorite wings anywhere, ever. My wife agrees, and so does my best food friend (BFF) who lives in Miami. And now, so does this old friend. These are huge wings, with the thickest, crispiest breading, slathered in a sticky, sweet, spicy, garlicky gochujang sauce and topped with crushed peanuts, sesame seeds, and fresh cilantro. An order of five wings costs $8, and my friend liked them so much, he ordered more.
These wings made my Orlando Weekly list of five favorite dishes of 2017. They are perfect in every way. They’re thick, meaty, juicy, crunchy, sweet (but not too sweet), and spicy (but definitely not too spicy). I hate the tiny, dry, burnt-to-a-crisp sports bar wings that too many restaurants and bars serve, slathered in oily hot sauce designed to burn on the way in and the way out. To me, there’s no point to even eating wings like that. They’re just sad. These Korean twice-fried wings are the opposite: pure happiness.

Next up were the chicka-rones ($6), crispy fried chicken skins tossed in jerk seasoning. The menu says these are Filipino-style. I loved them, especially as a nice alternative to pork rinds (AKA chicharrones, hence the clever name of this dish), which can sometimes be too hard to bite through, or so crunchy they can shred the inside of your mouth. For the first time ever, I recently fried up my own chicken skins at home into a crispy Jewish delicacy called gribenes, and rendered the fat (schmaltz) for cooking with later. Fried chicken skins are so much lighter and less oppressive-feeling than pork rinds, so I’m definitely a convert.

My friend was craving something spicy, so he went with a dish I had never tried before: Kin’s prawn mee ($9), a hot noodle soup with spicy prawn broth, shrimp, chicken, wheat noodles, hard-boiled egg, yow choy (Chinese greens), bean sprouts, and fried shallots. He was sweating, but he loved it. I might order this in the future, since he was so enthusiastic about it.

And I also picked a new noodle dish, knowing those are always safe bets. This was the Yaki udon ($8.50): thick and chewy udon noodles (always a favorite), chicken, eggs, onions, spring onions, and carrots. It comes with bean sprouts too, but I am not the biggest fan, so I asked them to hold the bean sprouts — never a problem at Hawkers. It had pretty mild heat, but it was pleasant. We both enjoyed this one, and I’d totally order it again. In the past, I have loved so many of Hawkers’ noodle dishes: curry-seasoned Singapore mei fun with chicken and shrimp, beef haw fun (with wide, flat noodles, similar to the beef chow fun I order at almost every Chinese restaurant that offers it), char kway teow, and spicy pad Thai. Now I’m adding the Yaki udon to this all-star lineup. The only problem in the future is what to choose: an old favorite or an exciting new possibility. You can’t go wrong either way, trust me.

Anyway, I parted ways with my old friend after dinner, determined to keep in touch better and not let thirteen more years go by. He seemed to really enjoy the restaurant and our menu selections, which I totally expected, but the last thing I ever want to do is recommend something that disappoints, staunch Saboscrivner subscribers included. A bad meal always depresses me, because not only is it a bad meal, but there’s the opportunity cost of not being able to enjoy a good meal in its place. I can safely say that Hawkers is a crowd-pleaser, and if you haven’t given it a chance yet, you won’t be sorry.

In fact, to sweeten the deal, Hawkers started serving brunch recently, but only on weekends and only at their newer, larger location in Windemere, much further from where we live. People’s photos of the new menu items looked enticing, so my wife and I recently took the trip out there, a few weeks after they rolled out the brunch menu, figuring they would have time to work out any potential bugs. Though we were one of the first parties to arrive when the restaurant opened that morning, it took an extraordinarily long time for us to get seated. I normally don’t remark on things like this on my blog, but it seemed weird, given that the restaurant was completely empty after just opening for business, with lots of staff available. We couldn’t help but be amused by one woman who (politely and diplomatically) complained about the delay before leaving. My wife expressed a gesture of solidarity with her as she walked out, and then I figured we were going to get lousy service and would end up feeling like chumps. But once we finally got seated, the service improved exponentially, and it was worth the wait.

I’m a huge Wu-Tang Clan fan, so I marked out when I saw this brunch item called Hash Rules Everything Around Me. How could I not order that? Dolla’ dolla’ bill, y’all! The dish included fried pork belly, crisp tater tots, bell peppers, and onions, topped with an egg fried over easy, smothered in curry gravy. Everything about this dish worked for me, with the runny richness of the egg cascading down and melding with the spicy gravy, forming a killer sauce for those tots. They were the best tots I’ve ever had, and the pork belly was everything I love about pork belly — a crispy (but not crunchy) exterior, giving way to smooth, unctious, yielding deliciousness.

Xiao long bao, AKA soup dumplings! On the Orlando Foodie Forum on Facebook, people had been hyping these up for years and bemoaning their absence in Orlando before they popped up on a few local restaurants’ menus recently. Hawkers was the first or second to offer these steamed classics in town.

Frankly, I think they’re kind of messy to eat, and dare I say it — more trouble than they’re worth. If you don’t eat the whole thing in one bite, the broth leaks out, and if you do eat the whole thing in one bite, you can burn a layer of skin out of your mouth.

Think about how perfect a pizza is, and then consider the calzone — everything you love about a pizza, but the inverse. Not bad, per se, but inside out and a little awkward to eat. Now think about a bowl of good wonton soup. Are you envisioning it? So warm and comforting! Well, the xiao long bao is the calzone version of wonton soup, with pork, crab, and broth inside the wonton, each soup dumpling its own little microcosm.

Even for brunch, we couldn’t go to Hawkers and not order the twice-fried Korean chicken wings. Yes, don’t worry — many of your regular favorites are still available on the brunch menu. Check the website to confirm, though! These wings were as sticky, sweet, and spicy as usual.

This was a brunch dish that might as well have been on the dessert menu: the Hong Kong bubble waffle, stuffed with whipped cream, fresh lemon custard, strawberries, blueberries, and blackberries. If you’ve never had a bubble waffle, remedy that. It is sweet and eggy with the lightest, crispiest outer shell, but so soft and fluffy inside. This one got soggy and cool quickly due to the whipped cream, but was still tasty.

I can see bubble waffles being a very satisfying street food, especially if you just get handed a warm waffle and eat it by tearing bubbles off or just biting off a bubble at a time. The whipped cream and especially the lemon custard would have been better as dips for the waffle itself, rather than being served inside of it to make the whole thing soggy.

And this sweet brunch dish (pretty much another dessert) was called Stacks on Stacks: Japanese souffle pancakes, so trendy and Instagrammable. The pancakes were tall, thick, and very jiggly and fluffy, served with bananas, Nutella, whipped cream, and drizzled with a housemade sesame peanut sauce. (Fo’ drizzle.) I didn’t think this was that fantastic. The pancakes were kind of doughy and a little dry, even with all the toppings. I honestly prefer IHOP and Cracker Barrel pancakes, and I’m not that big on Nutella, sesame, or peanuts. This dish just wasn’t for me, but I suspect many of my regular readers and “brunch squad” types will love it.

I always order a Vietnamese iced coffee at Hawkers, especially if I’m going to have anything spicy. It’s one of the only coffee drinks I’ll drink, rich and sweet with condensed milk. I like my coffee like I like my women: rich and sweet with condensed milk, and ready to jolt me awake. That morning, my wife ordered a “mocktail” called the Tang Dynasty, with tangy pineapple juice, orange juice, tamarind, salt, and ginger ale.

I’m generally not a brunch fan — my regular readers know I consider it a disappointing ripoff of a meal, especially since neither of us drink — but I’m glad we experienced the new brunch at Hawkers once. I don’t think we’ll rush back, but mostly because the Windemere location is quite far from us. We’re still huge fans of the tried-and-true original location for lunch and dinner, especially those Korean twice-fried wings, the roti canai, and all those noodles. And if you come to visit me from a town that doesn’t have a Hawkers location yet, we might just end up there. So far, all the friends I’ve dragged there have emerged huge fans, so watch out!