Text 34482, 66 rader
Skriven 2015-12-23 09:18:40 av MICHAEL LOO (1:123/140)
Ärende: Sammy's 708
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Coop's on Decatur at Ursulines was another place I had
intended to get to, with an additional spur when the 
Shipps gave it a decent review. 

It's a darkish and dingyish but harmless-looking dive
of which people make a big deal about the kitchen
being outside - which, if you think about it, makes a
whole lot of sense in the hot, sticky climate here.

The smells coming from out back were pretty appetizing,
and all the things on the chalkboard menu (most of
which duplicated the printed one) looked pretty good
to me too. Lilli and I ended up splitting an  order of 
red beans and rice with two pieces dark, saving the
rest of our caloric allotment for alcohol.

Abita Restoration pale ale was pleasantly hoppy and 
stronger in alcohol than the norm.

Concha y Toro Cabernet-Merlot was the cheap house wine
for $4 a glass. It was according to Lilli less than half as 
good as the Buffa's house wine at less than half the price.

The chicken was quite good, seasoned with the standard
garlic-salt-heavy-nothing-else-significant blend in the
coating, which was much less thick and crunchy than
elsewhere. I'd say that this version was a pretty good
parallel to Copeland's/Popeye's. It was an off hour, so
this chicken wasn't made to order, so it had wilted on
the table for a while, not that awful a thing unless you
are into having the roof of your mouth lacerated by
carbohydrate knives. Red beans and rice had a whole lot
of cumin, which I liked, but it was more like a bean-
laden spicy chili than like what I've come to know and
love under that name. At least it was neither bland
nor watery (Mother's was both, last I checked), and
spicy enough not to need any of the mundane assortment
of hot sauces that were available.

The bartenders here also fulfill the role of waitstaff.
They all sing along to (or hum to the instrumentals or
on the rare occasions that they don't know the lyrics)
the piped-in music, which ranged from Janis Joplin to
Gramma Got Run Over by a Reindeer to a rock band called
some number of nails whose front man Trent Reznor was
the previous owner of John Goodman's house a couple 
miles south of here.

A friendly enough place.

As we left, my evil twin walked in with his blonde
lady and found a seat near us. Up close he looked still
pretty evil but not so much twinlike. Both of them got
sampler platters, described on the printed menu as
seafood gumbo, shrimp creole, a piece of cajun fried
chicken, red beans & rice with sausage, and rabbit & 
sausage jambalaya. I probably should have had that and
negotiated for an extra piece of chicken on the side,
and that would have been enough for us both - this
couple were a bit younger and more robust of stomach
than we are.

Fairly inexpensive and worth a return visit; also easier
to find than Sammy's.
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