Don Gusto PJ: Look closely or you might miss it!

Don Gusto PJ is a tiny Mexican sandwich shop and bakery on the northeast corner of the intersection of Meridian Street and Hanna Avenue. You can't see the name until you get close to the windows, but there is a none-too-big sign on the front of the roof that says "TORTAS" and "PASTELERIA". I'd like to call it a boutique Mexican restaurant, but that might imply the place is fancy and expensive, which it is not, although the chef and the proprietor both wear chef tunics like you see on Iron Chef.  The menu offers about 10 different sandwiches but also has other traditional Mexican entrees like quesadillas, sopes, and burritos. They only have 6 tables, so much of their business is to-go orders, but when I went in to order to-go the first time,  the inside of the place was just so neat and tidy that I had to come back and have a sit-down meal.  The first time, I ordered a steak quesadilla, and it was unlike any I'd had before. Instead of being wrapped in a papery flour tortilla, it was encased in a fried pastry-like corn tortilla shell like a big empanada only it was flaky and tender, and it came with sour cream and lettuce spread across the top.  It was big enough that The Little Woman and I split it for lunch, and it was sooo tasty it almost didn't need the green tomatilla salsa and red pepper sauce that came on the side.  The tomatilla stuff lit me up a little bit, it was so spicy, but it was also so GOOD I wanted to take a gallon or so home.  The steak quesadilla and a bottle of Lipton iced tea came to $4.35, WHAT? WHAT???  The pennies in my pocket almost stopped screaming because I'd let up so much on pinching them!

On Saturday we both went there and ate-in: she had two tacos and a side of refried beans, and I had a steak burrito which wasn't as big as La Bamba's, but it was pretty darned big.  It was reeeeally tasty, I think because there was a bunch of sour cream mixed in with a bunch of cheese along with the beans and tomatoes and rice and lettuce and cilantro.  Her tacos had an even lighter, fluffier version of corn tortilla than our quesadilla had. TLW said she thought maybe they fried it in oil in a shallow pan and then folded it into a taco shell while still hot. It was light and crispy, and the steak bits were well seasoned and accompanied by fresh onion and cilantro.  She had a can of Diet Coke and I had ice water for which the waiter/proprietor provided fresh lime wedges.  Altogether it was $11.71!  I was in shock-- my pennies fell silent and breathed a sigh of relief. !Increible!

You know my theory: if an ethnic restaurant has a lot of customers of that same ethnicity, it's likely to be good, right? (A certain Asian place proving to be the exception as I reported some time ago, but that was probably only because the dishes it served were foreign to my dumb-American palate.)  Well, Don Gusto had a constant parade of Latino patrons while we were there, which ranged from scruffy working men to somewhat well-to-do-looking families, and they all looked satisfied, if that tells you anything.  I thought my quest for the non-cookie cutter Mexican restaurant was at an end with Taco Meats Potato, but alas, that went sour. I must say that Don Gusto is unique, or at least different from any other I've experienced.  !Vamanos a comer!

Ella's in Calabash, NC: A Great Seafood Place in a Sea of Seafood Restaurants

We were staying in Ocean Isle Beach, NC, which is part of a cool chain of little island communities stretching from North Myrtle Beach, SC to Wilmington, NC and beyond.  They're great for a geezer like meself because there is very little of the tiki-taki jumble of commercial development and condos that the bigger beach cities seem to be full of.  Our island had a beach store, three restaurants, a bar, and an ABC (liquor) store, and that was big compared to the island part of nearby Sunset Beach, which has only a tiny beach store and an ice cream shack!  

Calabash, NC is somewhat different:  It is a tiny town on an inlet, not the ocean, and it has a fleet of fishing boats and tens of seafood restaurants even though the town's population is only a little over 1300.  Ever since I was a first-grader in Myrtle Beach with my parents, I've heard and seen advertisements for "Calabash-style" seafood, but danged if anyone I asked really knew what that meant.  After a little research I'm proud to report that it is basically just large portions of lightly-battered, lightly fried seafood, and in Calabash itself it means really FRESH seafood right off the nearby boats, and that is hard to duplicate anywhere else that's not right next to a fishing port.  

We stopped in Calabash's American Legion post, and the local vets (almost all of whom were folks originally from other places who decided to settle there) recommended Ella's Seafood, right on the east-west main drag street that runs right down to the inlet.  We had a raw oyster appetizer plate that I thought was THE BOMB, that is until I got my combination platter which included mounds of shrimp and some roasted oysters that just BLEW me AWAY!  All the seafood was unbelievably delicious.  Ella's is neat, nautical, and nothing fancy, but I can't see how they could be beat for taste, portion size, and price (which is saying something if you know what a cheapskate the Barfly is!)  Some of the reviews I'd read complained that the cut corn tasted like it came from a can.  Geeze!  That's like saying the Mona Lisa is a terrible painting because it's not in a very pretty frame.  You want CORN, come back with me to Indiana, sourpusses!  Our fried corn will have your lips smacking, but the just-flown-in-last-week seafood in Indy will leave you depressed after you've had Ella's.  Arrrrr!

Lucille's Home Cookin': A Decent Experience, but with a Shocking End.

Lucille's Home Cookin',  150 W. Howard Street in Crothersville, IN is a little more than 60 miles south of Indy's southside on the old US 31.  We were coming back from a weekend in Louisville (see previous post "Louisville: the Hungry Drunk's Paradise) and driving the old road because 1) The Little Woman (who has been in two serious car accidents when she was younger) hates the traffic-congested, semi-truck infested Interstate Highways, 2) she hates the way I drive and figures we have a better chance of surviving a lower-speed crash by taking the old road, and 3) I like the taking the old roads for the scenery-- If you want more speed, take a danged airplane! Anyway, we came to the only stoplight in downtown Crothersville and looking to the west I spied a 3' x 4' neon sign that simply said "EAT".  Intrigued, I steered us into the parking lot of a tidy little commercial storefront with an apartment above. In the window was a chalkboard sign announcing "Lucille's Last Sunday Brunch", and I was sold, though my lovely wife had mixed feelings but knows when the Adventure Eating bug crawls in my ear and bite into my brain, I am no longer under in control.

The brunch buffet had about 10 items:  fried whitefish strips, pork cutlets cooked with apple wedges, and a host of home style side items, along with a number of cakes/cookies for dessert.  All in all it was a good home-cooked style meal in a little storefront location, but when the bill came-- ouch!  It was $15/person, a little steep for such a small buffet, I thought.  Still, we did enjoy the ambiance, and the experience.

Whitt's Inn: Smokers' Paradise and Quintessential Small-town Bar

Whitt's Inn, on US 31 at Tracy Road in Whiteland (or is it New Whiteland?  I can never remember where the one town ends and the other begins) is an unassuming little free-standing place at the edge of a strip-mall parking lot, so there is never a problem parking there even when they have one of those organized-group motorcycle rides in the summer.  The decor is your basic formless carpet/K-Mart Cafe chairs and tables that most bars have, but the place does have a kind of homey feel to it.  The staff is always friendly and the other patrons usually are, too.  On our last visit, however, there was a regular in there whose conversation had more F bombs in it than a freakin' episode of the Sopranos!  And of course he was the loudest sumbitch in there, so we all had to hear it.  Now, I was previously of the opinion that cussing was one of the freedoms that made a bar so relaxing, just like smoking and no-women-allowed used to be, but this guy made ME feel uncomfortable.  He wasn't angry or offensive, really, he just used "F-ing" like we would use any other adjective, only moreso.  The cook even joined in the mood the guy had created when she put an order up in the window and told the bartender to "TELL (F-bomb guy) TO PICK UP HIS F*CKING SH*T!", which got a big laugh, so I imagine his vernacular had been the subject of some discussion in the bar on previous occasions.

Anyway, I had an order of french fries that was pretty good, the beer and drink prices were decent, and they had Amber Bock on draft, which made me happy.  The only real drawback to the whole experience, aside from the aforementioned purveyor of profanity, was that the bar felt kind of gritty, like it hadn't been hit with a rag intentionally in a while, so I may have been taking my life in my hands with those french fries, but I did look in and see that the kitchen appeared to be clean, so maybe that particular bartender just needed to PICK UP HER F*CKING SH*T!  I always seem to have a good time there, so we'll be back.  

What is to Become of the Ice House?

The Ice House, 2352 S. West St. is still one of my favorite places, although I wasn't as happy with my last visit as I usually am.  It's a stand-alone building in a primarily industrial area near the White River, and that's part of its charm, really.  It looks rather like an old-fashioned ice house of yore, with barn wood outside, a metal(?) roof, and a big cooler-style front door.  There are a few neon signs on the sides and just a little lighted hanging sign out front, so driving by you might miss it if you're not looking for it.  Inside is all rustic wood paneling and antique sign decor, including numerous really cool old neon signs.  There is a small family dining room along one side (so kids can be admitted, I guess: I've never seen anyone in there), and a long bar along the other side with a mirror behind it that is almost as long.  The only problem is that the furniture and the fixtures are showing a little dust and age, and on this unseasonably warm and humid Friday afternoon in January there was a hint of a sort of musty old-wood smell that was a little less than pleasant.  I don't think they used to have a lot of smoke in there like Bailey's on Bluff did, but they may also be suffering (albeit not as much) from newly detectable odors apparent after Indy's recently enacted smoking ban removed the mask of smoke smell.  Either way, this time the place had a general appearance (perhaps undeserved, but with broken cabinet doors, a lot of dim lighting and a number of neon signs either not working or just not lighted, it gave the impression) of shabbiness. I had heard (and not from a particularly credible source) that The Ice House might be up for sale, but Joy, one of the owners, was busy eating with some friends/regulars and I didn't want to bother her, so I dunno for sure if maybe they're letting some things go in anticipation of an impending departure or not.  

The main reason for going to the Ice House, however, is still there-- a comfortable ambiance, great reasonably priced food, and decent beer & drink prices and specials.  One of our buds has gone there every Wednesday lunch for years to get the steak filet special, which was delicious and a great value for the money the last time I was there.  We had another engagement to attend, so we didn't eat there on this most recent occasion, but I saw possibly the biggest breaded tenderloin sandwich I've ever seen pass by on the way to someone's table, and it looked and smelled deeeeelectable.  You can see into the kitchen from the bar, too, and I must say it looked very clean and there was nothing shabby about that area.  The Little Woman and I split a decent-sized pitcher of Amber Bock for a really good price, too, so I'm not giving up on this favorite haunt.  As General MacArthur said, I SHALL RETURN!

UPDATE, 02/21/2014: The Ice House has been sold, effective (I think) 02/26/14.  The current owner had a stroke in January, sorry to say.  He's doing okay but decided the place was too much for his present condition.  Let's hope the new proprietor can continue the old traditions and come up with some new ones, like cleaning/fixing up the lovably eccentric decor.  To be continued....

Bailey's on Bluff- Great Decor in Great Decline

Bailey's on Bluff, in (you guessed it) a strip mall on the Northwest corner of Southport Road and Bluff Road, used to be one of the Bubbaz chain of Southside bars that came to be known for their Combat Nightlife, which is why (I think) none of them are called Bubbaz anymore.  I can't remember what it was called before it was Bubbaz, but I suspect the original owners wanted to open an upscale place to draw in the more well-to-do clientele moving into Murphy's Landing and other nearby expensive housing additions, just as Grumpy Ed's across the street tried to do before it gave up the ghost and became Robbie's Pub.  The wood paneling and bar layout of this place is gorgeous, but it hasn't been updated, or even maintained, really.  The carpet is old and smelly and worn, even more than the usual formless, colorless bar carpet.  Maybe it was the excess humidity of an unseasonably warm, rainy day in January, but the whole place had a musty, sour booze smell that I found really unpleasant.  As a result I didn't try any of the pub grub, and neither did anyone else while I was there.  Now that there is a smoking ban, bar & grilles are going to have to step up on their housekeeping now that they don't have stale cigarette smoke smell to mask the aroma of vomit, urine, and other fermenting fluid residues.

On the plus side, though, the beer and drink prices are decent, there are a number of big-screen TV's and tables set up specifically to view them, and usually at least one of the barmaids on duty is a smokin' hot babe.  But for the Geezer that I am, clean and comfortable trumps visual cheesecake almost any day, so unless they do some cleaning and renovating, Bailey's on Bluff is not on my return list.

Shallo's - A Southside Icon Soldiers On.

Shallo's is not in a strip mall, it's in a REAL mall, the one at Stop 13 and Hardegan Street that we used to call the Target Mall before Target fled and was replaced by Old Tyme Pottery.  I dunno what the real name of the mall is, but probably no one but the owners know, either.  Shallo's has it's own exterior entrance as well as one off the interior hall, and is a quintessential example of the "Fern Restaurants" that became popular in the late 70's and early 80's, like Bennigan's and TGI Friday's:  Old wood and brass interiors with various old signs and memorabilia on the walls.  In Shallo's case, the memorabilia includes a giant neon "INSURANCE" sign over the bar and several other lighted signs scattered throughout as well as numerous antique metal signs, framed posters, and a few stained glass windows, all of which have local historical significance explained in the back of the menu.  The cornices around the ceiling of both the first and second floors are also lined with a couple hundred old beer tapper handles, ranging from everyday ordinary to very rare or defunct brands.  

The beer tappers hint at Shallo's specialty:  They claim to have 500 brands of beer available, and you can see at least 100 of the bottled varieties on display in several large windowed coolers behind the bar and in the dining room. The day we went (January 2nd), however, they were out of  draft Warsteiner Dunkel and (gasp!) Guinness.  A different bar owner friend later told us that the local beer distributors had an unusually heavy demand on New Year's Eve this year, so maybe that was the source of the shortage.  The Little Woman and I both had the $7.99 5-ounce Sirloin lunch special, and it was EXCELLENT!  The steak was like 1.5 inches thick and cooked to perfection, the baked potato was large, fresh, and baked tender, and my side salad was likewise fresh and crisp.  I'm now on a crappy low-sodium diet for a medical condition, and the staff made adjustments for that-- the only no-sodium salad dressing I know is Vinegar & Oil, and though the waitress said they didn't have that, she was able to procure me a little cup of red wine vinegar and a little cup of oil, so with that and a Warsteiner Lager I was happy.  Prosit!