Happiness Project: A Mexican Revolution

There are a couple of rules that I believe are wise to live by:

1. Don’t go out of genre when you eat somewhere
2. If you make a promise, you need to keep it.
3. I cannot and should not be held responsible for anything said or done under the influence of tequila.

That last one is harder and faster than the first one. Most of my head-slapping-est experiences of the past 40 or so years – at some point along the way – included either, “let’s just do one more shot” or “can you bring me another margarita.”

But when it comes to Mexican food – or what we like to call Mexican food round these parts – margaritas and lard aren’t the only things that make them a happy place.

Some people catalogue their lives – Facebook Timeline style – by the songs they remember along the way. I can catalogue my life by the Mexican restaurants that I’ve had a relationship with over the years.

Until I was in college, Alabama was really a Mexican food wasteland. Now, you’ll find some diehards who will argue that places like El Palacio’s or El Gringos (in the various locales they were in) were exceptional. They were exceptional in the way that a crank telephone was hi-tech at the turn of the century … but I don’t see many people today hauling one of those babies around in their back pocket cause it fits better than an iPhone.

The other George Wallace

When I was in grad school at Alabama, I had a friend name George Wallace Law, III. He was in a strange, have-to-see-it-for-yourself way, a combination of Governor George Wallace and George Wallace, the comedienne. About 250 lbs., white as a sheet and with a voice that was twangy and a bit high-pitched for someone his size. George ate at La Fiesta in Tuscaloosa every day … the same food at each meal … Chicken Nachos and a sweet tea … and if he had his way, it would be served by “fast-as-Hell Ricardo.”

I tried to get him to go to other places – Pepitos on the Strip – but he was comfortable at La Fiesta. And if Mexican food has become anything in this state in the last 20 years, it is pseudo-ethnic comfort food … with an order of cheese dip.

After Emma was born, we had a Mexican restaurant of choice, Guadalajara in Hoover (closed). She would eat plain tortillas, and we always made the mistake of going on mariachi band night, which led to the rather awkward experience of having the band come over and croon the Barney theme at her (with the look of “I have your cojones, amigo, and will be expecting a tip for our fine playing”).

George Wallace …

Damn dinosaur! Damn mariachi!

A move to East Birmingham … and more Mexican food relationships developed … Sol Azteca, another Guadalajara, Habaneros, and a lot more. There was a time, as a young man, that I looked over the checkbook and saw my small discretionary money being funneled consistently toward this taco turnpike.

And with more moves and places coming and going, the list goes on … Pablos, San Antonio Grill, Habaneros, Las Pinatas, Sabor Latino, Los Amigos, El Cazador, El Palacio …

Some of the best family and friend memories I have of the past 30 or so years come from being with others and enjoying these cheap but plentifully available meals:

• Watching the green enchiladas do their work, to get labor started so Emma could join us in this world. Then, years later, turning to green salsa to encourage Ben to leave that wonderful place, that warm, safe place …
• Finding a place that served white salsa in Williamsburg, Va. Never had it anywhere else … and the hombre wouldn’t fork over the recipe, either. It’s closed now … gone.
• The, to quote Emma, “freak-ass clown” — and it was a real clown — who came to ChiChi’s in Eastwood, and made balloon animals … and probably LSD back in the kitchen.
• Eating at El Cazador in Eastwood with the Archibalds and the Yarbroughs … and Emma breaking some large piece of pottery that was next to a fake fireplace … it was a one-time Western Sizzlin’
• At the El Palacio’s in Irondale, when Emma and John Yarbrough were mostly engaged with trying to stuff the most gumballs possible in their mouth … They used at least $5 on those gum balls … that’s the price of a margarita, for God’s sake!
• I went to Maine, and was denied any decent Mexican food (and by the way, I nearly cried when we ate at Cracker Barrell in Poughkeepsie, NY). The only place near Freeport — an unholy union called Pedro O’Haras! When I woke up on our way home, leaving from Hagerstown, Maryland, I planned the whole trip home around getting back in time to eat the Fajita Chicken Nachos at Pablos that night, before they closed.
• Realizing that not all margaritas are created equal. Two of the strongest in Bham — Chuy’s and Cocina Superior. Thus, I have fuzzy memories (of which I cannot be held responsible) of being there with works friends — Valerie Ramsbacher, John Hill, Steve Welch, and others. I also remember a post-divorce trip, instigated by two other single work friends, Linda Childs and Sonya Smith, and discovering that mojitos have just as much kick. I also, at least vaguely, remember several fun dating memories in recent times … way too many margaritas at CS with Dawn Hammack, and at Chuys, enjoying the sunset on the porch with Cherie Cornelius and getting there right as happy hour started with Heidi Rowe and watching the staff fight with the door … oh, and getting the free food.
• Then there is Betsy. She’s been eating salsa, probably in her bottle. By at least 18 months. Not so much eating the chip as using it to shovel the salsa in her mouth. We starts ’em early!

The chips and salsa are on the table, and I’m ready to order … So, enjoy, amigos … cause with me, happiness comes with order of beans and rice.

—

If you haven’t already, visit some of the other great people who have taken the happiness challenge … Here are links to their blogs:

The Gold Shoe Blog

That’s Just My Opinion

Nothing But Time For Me

My Sweet Addiction

Jen Talks A Lot About

Stellar Fashion and Fitness

Hugh’s News

Sam’s Super Samwiches – a load off my mind

Brace yourself: I can be a bit stubborn, with a side order of procrastination. And no, I’m not impressed by the people who’ve just jumped up to second that one! Sometimes, that stubbornness manifests itself in me choosing not to do something – like when I went years without getting a mobile phone.*

* Which I can also say that I haven’t gotten yet, in a technical sense, since the  phone was kind of forced on me by a previous boss … But it’s now the only phone I have and I am a bit addicted, not that this has anything to do with this story.

I’ve been putting off a trip to a hamburger stand of high regard, not because I didn’t want to go. I’ve put it off because I know the owners (XX, Sue!). A lot of this blog is just for fun, but I take seriously what I write about; if I don’t like it, you’ll know. See my Purple Onion review.

I’m breathing a sigh of relief now that I’ve actually been to Sam’s Super Samwiches in downtown Homewood. First of all, the place is an icon. There are a lot of nice shops in the revitalized downtown Homewood. Most are a bit high-brow, but there are a few hold-outs, like Sam’s.

Sam’s is really a hot dog stand, in the Birmingham sense of the word. Its look, feel and food, to a degree, are evocative of the Greek-inspired hot dog stands in downtown Birmingham (see my review of Lyric Hot Dogs). It can get busy and frankly, if you want a place to sit and eat, you’ll likely need to be willing to eat on the curb (not the Curb that used to be in Homewood … the actual curb).

That’s not to dismiss it; it’s just not a sit down place. It’s a place to order a great dog and a tasty burger.

First, on the burger; It’s a sloppy, delicious mess. Let’s say, for the sake of argument, that you decide to eat outside (which you’ll probably want to do, instead of trying the few counter spaces). And let’s say, that it’s freakin’ cold. And you don’t want to move … GET SOME NAPKINS BEFORE you walk out.

The burger is grilled on a griddle, not too firm and not too loose. So, it’s juicy and has a great, not too seasoned taste to it. I got the SuperCheeseBurger … and then saw someone next to me with a SuperCheeseBurger with bacon. Damn. I wish I’d thought of that, cause I would have arm wrestled that little pip-squeak for it. Beautalicios was there; she would have tackled his parents. The fixings on the burger as just about perfect, with chopped lettuce and onions that mingle so nicely. I almost thought I heard them singing Kumbaya.

But Sammy’s is definitely a low-tech establishment where you should check your pretense and desire for pomme frites at the door. It is gloriously a throw back, not in a Johnny Rockets-plastic way, but it a WYSIWYG way. It’s a hot dog and burger stand. No trays. Your food will come wrapped in paper.

Now, if I said this was the best burger in the town, then my quest would be over and you’d not have the pleasure of reading more of my reviews. Sam’s has a tasty burger, but my quest will continue. Plus, Sam’s has something else going for it – reputation and being a local institution. Plus it has a good dog, too.

Points are 1-10 (ten being the best)

Meat – 8.75 … I have no idea about the origin of this burger species, but the meat tastes fresh. It’s also treated in a way that doesn’t dry it out or make it too runny. (According to a source, who is — should I call it “inside the ownership” — the meat actually comes from the Pig down the street, patties made daily.)

Bun and fixins’ 8.75 – This was a nice surprise, with the lettuce and onion mixed and the sauce not too overpowering.

Sides – (unsure) … Well, I don’t think that I can give real points for fries on this one, since you can’t get them there. Chips, you can get. However, the homemade chili and having a hot dog could be kind of a side … okay, I did that, but I’m a glutton. All in the name of my craft.

Service & Presentation – 8 … I like the feeling of being moved through a line a warp speed and not have someone cranky about it (I’m looking at you Niki’s). There’s nothing wrong with no plates and having everything on paper; fits the place.

Ambiance – 9 … You can’t pay for nostalgia.

Rating – A+

On Tap Sports Bar: Zombie Apocalypse

When did it become cool to be a zombie? When I was a kid, being a zombie was a scary something. But today, you have zombie weddings. Scholarly studies on the spread of zombie viruses. And just about all the zombies you can want or stand in terrible straight to DVD movies.

Then, you have zombie restaurants …

Heretofore, readeth the disclaimer: I, Beautimous, have visited On Tap Sports Bar on several occasions. I do enjoy going. But they all aren’t created equal. Their beer menu is one of the best in the area – and it is a place that feature deals on micro-brews and offers many high-gravity selections.

But the night I went the place was the walking dead.

I went that night with other warriors, to the Lakeview location. First, of all the On Taps, it is the least agreeable … some by its choices and other my misfortune. It’s a re-tooled place (though I can’t remember what was there before it). And it can be a little cramped and dank inside.

Second, I had an unfortunate dating excursion there about a year ago. There was a zombie theme to that one, too, believe me (Hello! Is there a sentient being in there!).

But I digress.

When it comes to a sports bar, atmosphere is important, as must be the food.

Heretofore, I confess my sins: I believe that I allowed the zombified nature of that place to tempt me. I confess I did not love the burger with a whole heart. I failed to be an obedient knight. I rebelled against the true way. I broke my laws.

I ordered a mushroom-swiss burger – The Old Bailey Burger at On Tap.

I love a Philly Cheesesteak Sandwich, but for some reason, whenever I order a mushroom-swiss burger (the burger attempt at being all Brotherly-Love) it just never lives up to my expectations. The one at On Tap was decent. Meat from who-knows-where. But the Swiss overpowers the rest of the flavors in the burger, and you’re left with a Swiss cheese sandwich, with mushroom and burger juice flavor.

Overall, the food at On Tap is decent, not exceptional, but adequate for a sports bar. If you’re going to watch a game, I’d suggest the one in Hoover … better food, better service and a more spirited crowd.

In medieval times, we believed that the way to deal with our undead was to burn them at the stake; at On Tap in Lakeview, they believe the way to deal with the living is to let them burn their own stakes … i.e., it might be the one place I can think of (other than a cigar shop/bar) where people still smoke indoors. And I was assailed multiple times, by cigars no less, which is great at in its place, but it doesn’t pair well with Old Bailey.

Points are 1-10 (ten being the best)

Meat – 8.0 … Uuuhhh. Zombie eat brains. Zombie eat brains, but love them hand-patted and fresh!

Bun and fixins’ 7.5 – Zombie always order mushroom-swiss. Zombie like burger with boring taste. Zombie no need Kaiser roll or bacon.

Sides – 7.5 … Fries are like people fingers. Fresh is best. Frozen … zombie get frozen anywhere.

Service & Presentation – 7 … Zombie enjoyed service of slow waitstaff. Lulls the living. But zombie notice knights dying of thirst, hoping for last drink. Living are so cranky when nothing to drink.

Ambiance – 7 … Perfect zombie hangout. Lifeless. People drinking and smoking. Games on no one cares about.* Zombies better move fast – for a zombie; feed before everyone dies of boredom.

Bonus X – +1.5 What drink do undead drink … a zombie, of course … (Great beers and nightly specials here).

Rating – BBB+

* I’ve said how dead the place was. And this was on the night when two of the great baseball games of this century were played, with both the Braves and Red Sox choking on collective opportunity. No partisans. Zombies in the crowd; zombies on the screen.

Lyric Hot Dogs: A little Hall and Oates for your dining pleasure

It’s as if my whole reason for walking to Lyric Hot Dogs was wrong. I wanted a quick lunch — and a little adventure. Someplace I hadn’t been in all the years I have worked downtown. And in some hopeful breeze wafting through my ear, I heard something about it being national hot dog day.

Which it isn’t. Lies. All Lies.

So, here I am today, having visited an iconic hot dog stand* in Birmingham (on 3rd Ave. across from the Alabama Theater), availing myself on not just a hot dog but also giving their cheeseburger a try. And yes, I did have medicos standing by …

* Now, I do like a good hot dog, but for the most part … the most part … Birmingham’s hot dog history is more a story of successful Greek immigration to the area (follow the link to an interesting video by the Southern Food Alliance on hot dog stand history in Bham). It’s a better story than a dog, and today that story is quickly fading away as old hot dog stand** stalwarts like Pete’s and Tony’s Terrific downtown have gone the way of the bag phone. But for me, I prefer a real Chicago dog or even a Lucky Dog from Nawleans. 

** And have you considered that in the lexicon of food, you visit a hot dog stand, but you visit a burger joint, not a burger stand. I’d posit that we use those words for good reason. A stand connotes a food of individuality. Have you ever watched people eat a hot dog? They hunch over, with that nervous look. Come on now, in your mind, is it a food that you enjoy with company around you, or is your natural inclination to find a corner and devour the tube steak in a inhalation of gluttony.

Let me leave you with this, brothers and sisters: a joint is something where two or more things come together … let your mind wander on that one.

What came together at the Lyric was a hot dog that is served at a nostalgic, downtown stand. At that stand, it keeps its bastard cousin, the cheeseburger, around for grins and giggles. It’s us outsiders who see that the burger is just not as loved and not as popular as the favored son.

To keep a lyrical theme, the burger there is the culinary equivalent of Darryl Hall and John Oates. Guess who gets second billing, and for good reason. Or lets put it this way, if the burger had a bushy mustache, they’d almost favor.

The burger was a pre-made patty (so is the hot dog, which on some level I kind of appreciate). But, I kid you not, I had to open the bun and look inside to make sure that there was a patty. Upon inspection, the burger was bathed in “special sauce,” the same type of special sauce that bathes countless dogs in the city. A sauce which has its roots in Greek food – a sweet and spicy (almost barbeque quality), almost tangy sauce that is good. But in this town, there must be some ordinance that any food including the aforementioned sauce must be drenched/bathed/baptized/rolling in it.

Oh, and a pickle slice that nearly covered the entire patty. While it’ll give you an idea of the size of the patty, the pickle was too big for comfort. I was kind of intimidated.

I’d rate this burger in line with what you’d get at Milo’s, but a bit better. A bit. If you’re looking for a great burger, it ain’t here. To borrow for John Oates greatest piece, check out the  #7 song of the 80s according to VH1. I think this song speaks for how I feel.

Hot Dogs

Now, a few words from our sponsor, the noble hot dog. The Lyric is REALLY a hot dog stand. It’s a place to listen to the 700 Club and chat with others who work downtown. The hot dogs are good enough and for Birmingham, they are some of the more consistent and historic in town.

I prefer the special dog at the Lyric – no onion. That leaves it with mustard, meat sauce (which does give me pause, but if you’re hot dogging it in the first place, it’s best to check your fears and persnicketiness at the door) and that ever-present special sauce – that is special at Sneaky Petes, Jimmy’s, Gus’ and several other special locations around the city.

But sometimes, like when you’ve let yourself be convinced that its national hot dog day when it really isn’t … or you’ve been beating yourself up about goofy stuff and you just need some comfort food, then a hot dog can perk you up. It almost always makes me smile.

Ratings – I’m not going there for the burger at the Lyric. I hope you understand. It’s like kicking a puppy. If you want to go, get a hot dog.

But I will give special kudos to a very interesting website. If you want a quick primer about hot dog stands in Bham, read the history section.

Rogue Tavern: Just like the word — unexpected and charmingly one-of-a-kind

Burgers and words have a lot in common, another reason I like both. Burgers can be simple – meat and bun – and it’s still a burger. Cover it with an array of crap from every aisle in the grocery store; it’s still a burger. Burger/words are beautiful in their simplicity and sublime in their complexity. So, you know a place named Rogue Tavern (RT) – with a multiplicity of burgers – would have more than a passing interest for me.

Rogue Tavern (and if you are also limited in life by less than ideal keyboarding skills, you understand that by this point I’ve types Rouge as many times as I’ve typed Rogue) Tavern is part of a redevelopment effort on 2nd Ave. North in Birmingham (otherwise known as the loft district). It’s on the same block as the uber-delicious Urban Standard and Pale Eddies Pourhouse.

But Rogue was the first, living up to it’s name. And the burgers on the menu at Rogue have always been part of their pub-ish fare. Even as a pub, they go rogue from the traditional, introducing novel, and delicious choices on the menu like Mahi, a chili-rubbed steak and more.

On the day I went at lunch with work friends, we went to sample burgers – and because it could make a case to be low-carb (I guess). I tried three different burgers, and I admit, I was roguish in my choice.

That day featured a special, pesto sliders. In biology, when a plant grows unwanted or unbidden, it’s a rogue; I kind of feel the same about sliders. But inspired by the place, I ordered it (though I will add that I asked if I could get it on a grown-up burger). In fact, we ordered two sliders (one pesto, one black and blue) and shared. Another ordered a Rogue Burger with blue cheese. Both come with Rogue’s signature chips.

Sliders can be misleading – IMO – you get less of a burger experience and more bun. On the ones we had that day, the triplets were like a trip to the beach: too much uncovered flesh. Several bites were really just meat and bun.

Nevertheless, the burgers at Rogue are some of the city’s best. The full burger at the table was MUCH better than my sliders, though if more attention and care were given in their preparation, they would be equally delicious. The place does get crowded, at times, and I’ve seen the wait staff stretched more than once.

In addition to being a place to find a tasty burger, it’s also a pretty good bar, with a decent beer menu and a good atmosphere for local music.

Points are 1-10 (ten being the best)

Meat – 8.5 … The meat had a nice flavor, not too salty. But they committed a personal pet peeve – in asking how I wanted it cooked and then not. I’m not sure that you can easily cook a slider medium. I also didn’t get a clear answer where the meat came from, except from a Sysco … Nevertheless, it was fresh and hand-made.

Bun and fixins’ 8.5 or 6 – This is a “what-there-was-of-it” vote. This bites that had fixins’ were great; the ones without were … lonely. I’d like to have a full-on pesto burger from there. Side note: the other full-one Rogue Burger was vastly superior to the pint-sized pretenders, meat more accurately cooked, sides more consistent, better overall taste.

Sides – 9 … “I love the chips at Rogue Tavern.” There I said it, I hope that this flash of honesty will inspire them to love me back … They are hand sliced and made there. Seasoned gently and crunchy, think of them as the really cute cousin of the fry.

Service & Presentation – 7 … The servers are usually a bit harried here because it’s busy. It’s not a complicated place. They try to make the presentation interesting, spice things up with “sliders” but really, why?

Ambiance – 8 … I have had more than one good experience here. The crowd is usually fun.

Bonus X – +1 … In my book, you get extra points for having a good beer selection with a burger. And since this IS my book, voila.

Mugshots – Burger ‘High Noon’ needs a different seasoning

The name “Mugshots” reminds people of a challenge that this eatery offers: finish a monstrous three-patty burger and all the trimmings in 12 minutes and you get it for free, get your name and photo on the wall of honor and are provided letters of apology to your physician and family (okay, maybe not the last one …). Like a showdown at high noon, that challenge is something that the wise try to avoid and the young approach with gusto and indiscretion: “I’ll make you famous!”

Mugshots, in Vestavia Commons (the original opened in Hattiesburg, Miss. in 2004), is a fairly new casual dining sportish-bar, a new-ish location of a new-ish chain. They believe in burgers at this place. They tout the fact that all are half a pound of ground round and each grilled to a nice, safe medium well. But as I ate there, I kept hearing the theme from The Good, The Bad and The Ugly in my head.

I found my burger – and the experience in general – maddening. Flashes of brilliance mixed with pedestrian over-exuberance.  The fact that many people have suggested that I go and that it’s on several lists of best burgers makes this review … complicated.

So, I’m taking the easy way out and turning over the review. Yep, delegating. To Slim, the cowboy philosopher and burger aficionado …

Let me pull out mah notes, here … ‘scuse me, while I whip this out …

Me and beautilicious (my hamburger trail buddy), we ordered two different burgers offa that thar menu. I had the “McDonald,” which they called, “By far the best burger on the menu … it’ll knock your clothes off.”

Well, it didn’t, and it didn’t knock one buckskin or hoop skirt off of no one, but iffin that’s the best burger there, than that’s sadder than the cow-poke what said, “I’m putting my money on the Clanton boys; they ain’t never been beat at Corral.”

But, lookey here, you see, the bun on that-thar burger was as tasty as a shot of whiskey after being on the dusty trail all day. Sweet. Soft. Purdiest and tastiest thang in that meal.

But boy howdy, that bun was busy. Why, they’d put nigh onta’ ever livin’ thang you could image on it. Cheese, pickles, lettuce, tomater, ranch dressing, barbecue sauce, and ungyuns. Saltier than salt lick I got out on the back forty … And that meat, I know, I’m justa galoot; I tells ‘em to only cook it til it stops mooing. Pardna’, they cooked that thang til it wuz pert near dunner ‘n my boot.

And them thangs they called beer-battered fries … You might can fool an old cowboy once, but I looked them hornswagglers in the eyes and said, “Haven’t I seen you before round these parts? Maybe at Cap’n D’s or some other place?” And you know what, those yellow-livered slivers did? Nothing. Sat there looking guiltier than one of them veg-e-terrians at a cattle rustlin’ convention.

And that sweet thing, beautilicious, you know they brought her a hamburger sandwich with nuthin’ to go on it ‘cept peanut butter? Darn tootin’! Meat, bun and crunchy butter. And you know what? It twernt half bad. Hell, I might even get me one some day.

You know where they get their meat? Naw, not New York City. Houston. Yep. Probably couple million head of cattle on the trail tween here and Houston. None of them good enough?

Oh, it twernt bad, fer the most part. It’s just a bit trigger-happy. Green. A hot shot kid, full of piss and vinegar. It’ll mellow. Age. Learn the ropes of life like, “Sometimes, you eat the bar. Sometimes, it eats you.”

But til then, keep it simple, abide. Less is more, sometimes. Happy burger trails!

Meat – 7 … I think I’ve said enough about this topic. If it had any juiciness left when it got to me, I couldn’t find it.

Bun and fixins’ – 7.5 … Accentuate the positive: the bun is awesome. Alone, the big, fat yeast roll would get a 9.5. But throwing everything on what is supposed to be your place’s best isn’t impressive; it’s overkill. And the lettuce had a distinct twinge of soapiness.

Sides – 7 … I’ve seen your face somewhere before Mr. Fry … Don’t tell me. Okay, tell me. It’s killing me. BTW –I saw another table with fried dill pickles. I still want them!

Service & Presentation – 7 … Beautilicious got a large plastic cup to-go. She was pleased and wanted to make sure that it was noted. Gene was pleasant and attentive.

Ambiance – 8.5 … While I haven’t mentioned much about this, the atmosphere is fun and inviting. It can get loud and the beer is cold. The patio is a great locale for people watching and waiting for a movie at the Rave. Kid friendly, friend-friendly, date-friendly.

Bonus X – No points, but from appearances the other food there looked good. Have heard that the Veggie Black Bean burger is good. Asked the staff if it was cooked on the same grill as the beef. It is cooked separately (on a flat-top used for veggies).

Stadium Grill: A Green Knight of the burger quest

In Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, the Green Knight challenges Arthur’s knights to swap a blow with him. After Gawain cuts his head off, the green bad boy picks it up and leaves, one of the lessons being — in that quest as it is in mine — that not everything is always as it seems. Appearances can deceive. In the end, patience, dedication and humility pay off. Yes, it is humility — to acknowledge that beauty, truth and joy can come from unexpected places.

Stadium Grill in Bessemer is the kind of place that my parents would have never gone. It looks on the outside like a class-A shack. It sits directly across 4^th Ave. from the tongue-twisting, Snitz Snider Stadium, the home of the Jess Lanier Purple Tigers  (until they high-tailed it to the Bessemer burbs and the new stadium near Academy Dr.). The parking lot is gravel-ish and paved-ish … depending on where you park. This ain’t the Summit … heck, it’s not even Wal-Mart.

But when you walk in … it’s homespun beautiful, a burger dive in Bessemer. The inside of Stadium Grill (if you can, here’s a link to their FB page)is about as burger jointy as you’ll find. You can get beer. You can get a soft drink in a can. You can get what is supposedly a great rib-eye sandwich. But bring cash. And bring a picture of yourself. And get ready for a great burger.

The walls and the booths at this small place are adorned with photos of people who have patronized this Bessemer icon. You can see from the pictures that the place has been around several days. The tables are worn. The walls are dark. Which makes the flat screen tvs on the walls at once predictable and completely out of place at the same time.

They also boast of a great burger. And to be honest, it doesn’t disappoint. While I was there, I saw them bring in their meat; they’d bought it from a local grocery store. I ordered a regular cheeseburger and taking the waitress’ suggestion, opted for the hand-cut fries.

The burger was first-rate, terrific even. The patty was knobby and clearly had been hand patted and was not overcooked. I asked for medium, and it came that way — juicy and eventually overwhelming the bun. The meat was fresh, cooked perfectly and seasoned just enough to be interesting. The fixings with it were what you’d expect also.

I liked the place the moment I opened the door and saw the pay phone still inside, the familiarity and warmth of the owners, patrons and employees. I considered professing courtly love to it when I saw the pictures on the walls and my burger. But they had me – 100 percent – when I got the fries. Hand cut. Fried and hot and greasy, but not soggy. With enough of skin left on them to make them interesting and with earthy flavor.

Oh, they also brought me some of their “special sauce” to dip my fries in!

I will be going back – with more cash. And this time, I’m not sharing the fries. And I’m taking my picture, too.

Points are 1-10 (ten being the best)

Meat – 8.5 … No question this was fresh. No question it was made with love. Juicy but not runny. Flavorful (almost), but still room to achieve something more.

Bun and fixins’ – 7.5 … Points for good, solid extras that don’t break down and turn to burger mush.

Sides – 9 … Like I said before, “A sucka’ for homemade fries …” Sauce was a nice surprise.

Presentation and service – 7.5 … Fun waitress who knew when we walked in that we were Stadium Grill virgins. Thank God, she was gentle.

Ambiance – 9 … A picture of this place should be placed next to definition of burger dive/joint in the dictionary. It’s the type of place that you need to check your preconceptions at the door and just enjoy the experience.

Bonus X – Not this time.

The burger blues and the Purple Onion

I have several rules that are set on stone. Yes, if they were in stone, I’d never change them, but I forget sometimes. I lapse. And so, what seem like great rules to live by – never get on the roof without someone else being at home or always check to see if you’ve left plastic bowls in the oven when you pre-heat – are orphaned little regulations.

One rule I have: stick to the genre. I have been burned by this simplest of rules so many times. Like ordering fried food at a steamed food place. Or buying batteries at a convenience store. Or a recent trip to a Southside in Birmingham icon — The Purple Onion.

But this night, I was desperate. It was late. I needed food, and frankly, I’d been skunked at the Cantina … so, I was searching for late-night food in downtown Birmingham.

For people who went to UAB or who decided that living in Southside would be good for their moral fiber, the existence of the Purple Onion is a kind of late-night oasis. It’s just the type of 24-hour place you’d expect near a big college campus. It’s gives me the hangover shakes just thinking about it (kind of the same as I get with Waffle House or Dennys … or as I contemplate what exactly I was eating in the Ribwich frozen sandwich from the convenience store).

As for genre, it’s Mediterranean-ish – along with a host of traditional late-night fare – sandwiches, gyros and the like.

And in my plight, I went against my better judgment and my rule and broke genre at the Purple Onion. I’d looked lustily at the burgers on the menu for years and this was my night.

I mentioned that this kind of 24-hour place is déjà vu to me: after receiving my burger from them, I had just that type of experience, except it had nothing to do with liquor.

I was transported back to 11^th grade. I was standing in the lunch line at my high school, facing a daily choice – the burger and fries or the regular meal (yep, that was a different era). I have a visceral memory of the look, taste and texture of the “meat patty” that adorned the burgers at school. It wasn’t all meat. It wasn’t all plant. It existed in a weirdly-flavored netherworld of plastic aftertaste. It was chewy, and usually cooked to such an extent that it could have been considered a weapon if you chunked it at someone.

One bite into my burger at Purple Onion and I was kicking myself for not ordering Chicken-in-a-sack. Or falafel. Or for not driving back to the Cantina to beg for a fish taco. I will go back to the Purple Onion – for humus and pita, or a Greek salad or taboule – because I’ve been before and that stuff is good and hits the spot, but I’m swearin’ off their burgers.

Points are 1-10 (ten being the best)

Meat – 2 … It’s not often that you’re transported by a meal to another space and time. I don’t plan to take the return trip.

Bun and fixins’ – 4 … I can’t blame the humble lettuce and tomato that they can’t compensate for the meat. I can blame someone for drowning the sandwich.

Sides – 7 … Frozen, crinkled and involved in a long-term relationship with seasoned salt,

Presentation and service – 6 … The woman working that night was funny. Food was delivered to the table.

Ambiance – 7.5 or 3 … As a late night hang-out, it’s got history, and it attracts a strange mix of people. As a burger joint … let’s just say that I’m giving it some charity points.

Bonus X – + 0.5 … Mint tea. They have it, and I like it. But if you really want a late night burger, there are lots of better places.