Shrimp, Grits, and Sausage

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 I drove a fourth of the way to my old stomping ground−Washington, DC− otherwise known as, “Chocolate City.”  I’m not sure if the natives are still referring to it as this name. But if not, I’m sure there is a “Chocolate City” historian out there, who will be more than happy to confirm if DC still has just as much chocolate in it, as it did in the '70s and '80s.  I would think by now, there is probably some milk in that chocolate, which could slightly alter the name to become, “Milk Chocolate City.”   

So that I could have easy access back unto I-95, once my “Food Crumb Reviews” were concluded for the day, I parked my car at the Springfield subway station.  When I walked to the platform to retrieve my “Smart pass” card from the fare card machine, it was official, I was once again back to my old routine of riding the subway on a Saturday afternoon, to hunt down meal from a food establishment that appeared to be clean enough for me eat there-and fit enough to give the stray dogs in my old neighborhood the leftovers from it.   

It didn’t take me long to get to the Farragut West station, where my lips would “lock into” the first crumb tasting for the day, at a restaurant called, “Founders Farmers (FF),” located at 1924 Pennsylvania Avenue, NW, which is known for their farm to table concept of serving meals with organic ingredients.  Now, how much of the farm they were bringing to the table, you will have to “get all up in” the head cook’s personal business to find that out. All I can tell you is, when it came time for my family to “gather up” produce and any four-legged non-family member that was moving−it was a long process just to get it to the table. And having a sleepy mule and a “barely making it” Farm Use truck didn’t help the situation either. Let’s just say, “We had no other choice but to be decent people if we wanted the almighty “BOSS” to keep us afloat.”   

Once I arrived at the restaurant, I noticed there was plenty of windows and natural light flowing throughout. It was enough light to keep anyone away who had vampire tendencies. It was apparent the enormous oblong bar was the focal point of the restaurant. That was probably because that was the structure you would be sent to, by the hostess, if you were eating solo or had a party of three at 1:00 p.m. on a Saturday afternoon.  Now, for anyone who was a party of four or more, they were sent back where they originated from−at least that’s what I heard through my cleaned ear canals. Personally, I had no issues with the set-up. For my main objective was to eat a couple of crumbs and be on my way to taste some crumbs at the “Old Ebbitt Grill (OEG).”

Once I was at the bar, I stood behind this man who was devouring his entrée. After about five minutes of my hot breathe tacked onto his neck, he asked, “If I wanted his seat because he was leaving in a few minutes.” Of course, I said, “Yes.” Poor thing−he must have gotten overheated from the free wind I had provided to him. Once I sat down, there was lady taking her time to devour the waffle and chicken entrée most patrons come to FF to taste. As always, I used food to break the ice for a two-way conversation. She was a very nice lady who didn’t have any problem sharing with me how often her and her husband came to FF.   I truly appreciated her transparency, because it was easier than getting an employee to give up, the real grub that was going on at FF.  Just to obtained that type of juice, would have assisted me in getting the "food creed," I so desperately needed.

I talked to the nice lady until nature interrupted our conversation. I asked her, ”Where was the bathroom located? She told me, “It was around the corner of the bar and one upstairs.”  As I proceeded towards it, I noticed the line was too long for me to wait. So I opted to take the elevator to the upstairs bathroom. When I landed on the 2nd floor, the entrance door to the bathroom was very much in my face. Once I entered it, there was no one there−BUT ME! It had a nice size powder area and two bathroom stalls all to myself−with one “out of commission.” As I entered the working bathroom, I found myself really working to get into it. For some reason, it would not allow me to enter freely. That was probably because of the enormous toilet. And for that, I had to push the door all the way to the wall in order for me to free myself from a barrier that usually accommodates me in my time of need. At this time, I would to say to the installer of those toilets,  “You were not thinking about the patrons with water retention issues or even anyone in a wheelchair when you installed those toilets. Even though I did not have an opportunity to observe the downstairs bathroom stall, I hope was not in the same condition, if so, you should be ashamed of yourself!” 

If I only had my father’s old ax with me, I could have done a good deed for FF, and chopped off some of that wood in the door frame of the bathroom stall. That would have widened it a little bit more and made my parents proud of me at the same time. They always use to say, “Sometimes you have to take it upon yourself to help others in need, even when they have too much pride to ask it!”  

After the bathroom ordeal, I managed to get back to my seat at the bar and order the “Shrimp, Grits and Andouille Sausage.” I was curious on how they would present their version of it. It only took about 15 minutes for me to find out. The presentation was well executed and I especially love the fact that it had big chunks of vegetables (onions, tomatoes, and red peppers) to enhance the flavor of the grits.  The grits were very fluffy−never seen big grits like that before−it’s good thing I conduct these ”Crumb Reviews” to find out these unusual food sightings.  

For my food experience at FF, it wasn’t too bad once I got away from the barrier situation in the bathroom stall.  As far as the customer service, I would have to take a crumb away from them because of the hassle I had to go through of getting a waiter’s attention (the nice lady at the bar was the one who got the attention of the waiter for me) for ordering and finalizing my meal purchase. I realize the waiters were busy at the bar, but I felt they should have been prepared for it, since most of the patrons ended up there anyway. 

Another shocking moment for me, was when the waiter sent me off with my takeout container of warm grits without a bag (this must be normal because the nice man who gave me his seat at the bar, left with his container in his hand as well). He must have thought my hand was a pot holder. My take, I shouldn’t  have to ask for a bag from such a fancy establishment like them. I didn’t make a fuss, I just allow him to be himself, for my objective was to find out how a restaurant establishment treat its patrons when they believe no one is observing them.  

For “Founders Farmers (FF)” I give them a “Four & A Half Crumb Rating,” not solely because of the meal itself, but more so from my unpleasant bathroom experience and the “brush off” customer service that I received prior to ordering and finalizing my meal purchase. If there was a take away from my experience at FF, it would be, “Never send a perimenopause black woman (patron) away with a takeout container of warm grits to hold−because they might have to quickly dispose of it anywhere to alleviate their hand from getting overheated!”   

To reach the “Old Ebbitt Grill (OEG),” at 675 15 Street, NW, Washington, DC 2005, I willingly removed myself from the Metro Center subway stop (take the Macy’s exit to the right and keep walking) to get there.  Although I had heard about the OEG when I lived in the DC metropolitan area, I nevered took the time to find out if it was legit. That was all behind me now, for I found out, it has been in existence since 1856 (162 years)−which would have been enough time for my grandparents to have a sighting of it. 

When I arrived there, it was a full house just like “Founders Farmers (FF).”  It must be a Saturday thing-whereas everybody leaves their place of residence-just to receive an unrepeated meal to eat.  As I “scoped out” the place, to find a standalone podium with a greeter behind it, I finally saw they were both only 50 feet away from me getting to them. When I approached the greeter, I asked, “Do you have a table for one?” She gave me the option to eat at one of the three bars (two downstairs and one upstairs). I choose the upstairs bar where I was kindly escorted and given the say to sit at the end of the bar.   I guess I wanted to make sure no one would judge me if they happen to witness me restraining myself from proper table etiquette.  To the right of where I was sitting, there was a glass showcase of old guns, hunting jackets, and some “run down” shoes. It was that moment, I thought to myself, “Wonder what ALL was hunted down with all that historical gunnery?” I quickly snapped my thoughts back to 2018-and focused on everything I had to be grateful for-in the present moment. 

I was glad that I choose the bar upstairs because there was lots of sunlight and less darkness (the downstairs area of the restaurant had a dark wood vibe to authenticate the atmosphere of a working tavern). Personally, I’m not a fan of eating at any restaurant that I can't confirm the following: 1) What I'm devouring; 2) If I'm still with the same person I walked in the door with; and 3) The location of my cell phone to dial 991 (country black folks private line-to get a disowned country kin folk-out of the woods-to take care of an unresolved matter).  The only time I embrace darkness, is when I need a good "cry out" from something that makes me very sad.

The bartender acknowledged me right away upon my arrival at the bar. He provided me with a menu and I automatically fixated my eyes on the “starters” and then unto something sweet.  By time my head was lifted up, there was another bartender to take my order.  Now that’s what I call “Attentive Customer Service (ACS)."  He took my order of “Fried Calamari” (watercress, pickled cherry peppers, lemon vinaigrette, and ancho-chili sauce) and “Pumpkin French Toast.”  Even though the calamari took some time to get to me, the waiter made my experience very pleasant, so I wouldn’t "boil over" from feeling unwanted by the inconsiderate cook in the kitchen.  After a 25 minute wait, the calamari was finally presented to me.  

The calamari plate was lot to eat.  Maybe that was the cook's way of asking me for forgiveness for taking their time to generate a meal for me.  I somewhat forgave the cook and focused on the main reason why I was there.  I ate as much as I could of the calamari, to get the full affect, of what it tasted like, after just departing the fryer. They were okay.  What I detected right away was the fact that I could see (coating was a little too dark) and taste (greasy flavored) the oil from the calamari was not fresh.  My take...... I felt like my order was a “rush job.”  As an experienced home cook and foodie, for the amount of time I had to wait for my order of fried calamari to reach me, it should have been executed much better than what I received.  That is the main reason I'm very reluctant to order fried food in restaurants, for some restaurants don’t take the time to dispose of their old oil when frying foods.  When this issue is addressed by some restaurateurs, maybe fried foods won't have a bad reputation of clogging ones arteries.  Like almost everything, all things should be declared a "high risk," when its not done in moderation.  

As far as the “Pumpkin French Toast,” it was okay.  I wanted to taste a hint of cinnamon in it or a highly concentrated flavored extract (rum or a drop of a disowned kin folk's moonshine) to enhance the flavor of the pumpkin coating.  Considering the fact that OEG is a renowned food establishment, I felt the cook could have represented them much better, in their execution of flavored bread.  The french toast should have been complex enough, whereas a home cook, like myself, would have been challenged to recreate it at home.  From what I could taste, it seemed like a pumpkin spread was lightly coated on some bread, placed in a hot pan, and seared until it was the color of a black cast iron skillet with the color of an orange sun slightly breaking through it.  In summary, the cook burned the "hell out of that bread!"  And just for that, I would like to have the honor of renaming this menu item to, "Black Sun French Toast."    

For the “Old Ebbitt Grill (OEG),” I give them a Four & A Half Crumb Rating for their special version of the entrees I ate; the ACS from the bartender while I had to wait for my food; and for actually giving me a carryout bag for my takeout containers (even for the takeout container of grits from "Founders Farmers.”)  

My neighbor friend was nice enough to share a photo of a menu, of a newly landed seafood restaurant called, "PIER 88,"  Boiling Seafood Bar, in Hampton, Virginia.  It did not take long for me to zoom over there to allow my stomach to have something new in it.  I'm sure glad I took the initiative to go on a Thursday evening, to avoid the "end of the work week and just got paid" folks on a Friday evening.  When I entered the restaurant, I was greeted with a voluminous warm welcome.  It made me felt special and scared at the same time.   Instantly, I knew there would be a bond between PIER 88 and me-that would last longer than a split crab leg.   

The  decor in itself, immediately caught my attention.  The fisherman design was elegantly mastered for a seafood restaurant.  I loved the fact the lightening was bright enough for me to witness the cleanliness of the dining area.  It was also bright enough to shade some light on anyone who was conducting a secretive indiscretion and anyone who's been in hiding from an unpaid transaction.  Now, that's some good lightening when it can expose those types of situations.        

Once I was seated at a table, the nice waiter proceeded to tell me what was on the menu-but I already knew that I wanted the Country Boil (with snow crab legs, shrimp, all-meat sausage, broiled egg, corn, and potatoes) to feast on.  He stocked the table with a crab bucket, a bib, crab cracker, napkins, wet wipes and some gloves (which was taken home for my next chemical input).  Anyway, he made sure I was well prepared to do surgery on the feast that was enroute to me.  When I did receive my entree, it was sealed in a plastic bag that would not allow the heat to escape.  I carefully poured the boil unto my plate, to get ready for an "all  and out war" that was about to happen at that table.  Once I got a handle on things, I still had enough food to take home for three (3) more rounds of eating.   

For PIER 88, I give them "Four & A Half Crumb Rating," because I felt there was a little too much liquid and a little too much oil in the boil.  It overpowered the cajun flavor I wanted to taste.  If these two ingredients are minimized, the special flavor that is chosen by the patron should be recognizable to the patron's tongue.  Overall, I enjoyed the food, and I will be revisiting them real soon.    

I enjoy taking road trips during the fall time of the year. It’s the best time to depart from the house without worrying about somebodies’ overly anxious little critter stepping on my sensitive bunion−because they were released from an educational institution. As a “kick-off” to celebrate my favorite season for “eating up” tasty foods, I decided to shake some money out of “Diva Pig’s” back, to splurge on a bus ticket to New York City. Just knowing there was no money left in her for anyone to steal, gave me more time to focus on the what really mattered–a thin crust pizza−that is lightly darkened underneath the bottom−to inflate the coatings on top−that will eventually land in my belly.  

If you are visiting New York City, the best time to travel there is, through the night. That’s when you will be able to place a bet on who can snore for a straight 15 minutes. It’s some good extra money if you can find someone on the bus that is willing to give up $5 dollars. It’s was the only disturbance you could get away with, according to the bus policy, the nice lady bus driver had announced to all the passengers. Which was, “Quiet conversations were welcomed and offensive comments were not welcomed.” Those policies were reasonable to me and to most of the passengers on the bus−with the exception of the two women who sat two seats behind me. They wanted to do their own independent study on whether their loudness would be challenged. They soon found out, what happens when there is loud dialogue and two curse words involved. That’s right, the nice lady bus driver put the mic on them. Afterwards, there were no more words said that could be identified. I tell you, “One can sure learn a thing or two about bus etiquette−if you are not too uppity to experience it!”      

Once I arrived in the “Big Apple,” I made dash to the women’s room to freshen up so no New Yorker would turn their nose up at me.  After I felt I was refreshed enough, I entered the subway hall with other New Yorkers who were on their way to a life of making some coins.  After two minutes of eye searching, I immediately found someone who looked as hopeless as me, to give me guidance on retrieving an "all day" fare card from the machine.  After retrieving my very own fare card, I was well on my way to pretending I was a northerner−as long as I didn’t have to open my mouth to speak like a southerner. Once I stepped my feet on NYC concrete, I managed to navigate through city without any problems.  It sure felt good to be legally street walking to find delicious food that would expand the elastic in my pants-even further.  

At times I somewhat felt too overwhelmed to eyeball a surveillance on a food establishment for a random “Food Crumb” review.  Just when I had given up on narrowing down at least one food establishment that could satisfy my savory and sweet tongue, I rolled up on “Junior’s” −−who are known for their delicious cheesecakes. I heard talk of them a couple years back from a famous celebrity.  Now…..to name the famous celebrity, “I couldn’t tell you.  All I can say is, thank you, for my enjoyment of Junior’s “Devil’s Food Cheesecake.”  I’m still pulling little pinches of the cheesecake so it won’t disappear on me. But you don’t have to result to this−and I didn’t either. I could have found some decency in myself and go on Junior’s website to order a cheesecake at:  www.juniorscheesecake.com .   

Don't forget the holidays are shortly approaching.  And you need to get on the good side of that disruptive relative who don't like you anyway.  A slice......or even a whole cheesecake from Junior's, should keep them off of you-at least during the time you are in their presence.   

When you decide to take a road trip to New York, visit “Junior’s” at the theatre district in Times Square Manhattan or their original birthplace, of downtown Brooklyn−to get some sweetness all up in you. Tell a Junior’s employee, “The Uncensored Home Cook” gave them a “Six Cheesecake Crumb Rating,” and she wants a “free” cheesecake of her choosing on her next trip to New York City."  Just know, "There is no shame in asking for what your stomach desires."  

As I was headed back home, I passed this cute little neighborhood stable called, "Charlie's Place."  I immediately turned the car around to allow my noisiness to take into affect.  There was no way I was going home without checking this place out.  

When you step across the threshold, there is an intimate feeling like you have gone back to the neighborhood institution where everybody would flee just to get away from their house-which was probably a block away.  The old diner feel was present, whereas it was an open kitchen concept with no secrets on how your food was being cooked while you wait at the food counter.  And depending on how long it took for your meal to arrive in front of you, you would also discover the headboard on the grill was well seasoned with black crust just like the crust on a seasoned cast iron skillet. The owner told me that the establishment has been around for 50 years (that would be two (2) years younger than me).  That would probably explain the alarming visual of the headboard on the grill.   There motto is, "Never send anyone back with a empty stomach."  I can confirm that this motto is true.  My stomach was full when I departed.  If you want a full stomach and a place to "hide out" for a while, then "Charlie's Place" is where you want to go (open seven (7) days a week from 7:00 a.m. until  2:00 p.m.).   After that, you need to get yourself on home or wherever your final destination may be.      

Since I was at "Charlie Place," I decided to indulge in the food item that was named in his behalf, I chose "Charlie's Burger."  The beef patty was thin the way I like it.  It had the attachments of American cheese, bacon, mushroom, and onions on it. Of course the side order of crinkle fries made the burger even more enjoyable.  And for that, I give "Charlie's Burger and Place" a "Four Crumb Rating" for their south eastern hospitality, and giving me back the visuals of a diner my parent(s) took me to me to as a child.

Anybody who truly knows me, they will know, I love me some wings.  Can't get enough of them.  Could eat them every day and won't feel guilty about it.  If you love a wing like me, you might want to  get on down to the "Vagabond Restaurant" in Richmond, Virginia-before they "run out" of them.   You just can't take a chance when there are delicious wings involved.  I don't  know what they do to those "parmesan and garlic wings" to make them taste so good.  But whatever they are doing- please don't stop.  I ordered the battered wings but you can get them "naked," if you are into that type of thing.  For me, I wanted them "battered up" to make sure that garlic sauce was glued to it! 

 Thank you "Vagabond Restaurant" for making me a happier woman.  And because of that, I give you "Six Crumbs and a Half A Loaf of Bread." Can't get any better than that!  I will be back real soon, to make sure those wings will maintain my highest crumb rating. 

If  you are in the Newport News, VA area, and you are craving some authentic Jamaican cruisine, than you need to get on down to "Mystic Jamaica Caribbean Restaurant" where the spices lays on the food!  It is a very clean  establishment-at least that's what it was when I  last stepped my size nine feet in there.  The whole Jamaica vibe is real.   Most of all, the cooks put a lot of love in every meal to ensure that every customer feels special-even if they are not feeling that way at home.    

Thanks "Mystic Jamaica Caribbean Restaurant," for putting a hurting on that oxtail dinner. I enjoyed every crumb of it!    And for that, I give you, a "Six Crumb Rating."   

When I think of Friday, I think about my father fishing all day long and my mother doing the cosmetic work of cleaning the fish to land in our stomachs.  To bring back some of those memories, I decided to tryout my neighbor's suggestion and stop pass the "Got Fish (GF)" food truck.  The food truck travels all around the Tidewater area (check their Facebook page for schedule) and there is always long lines to get some of that delicious seafood.  Tonight, I bought the "Seafood Trio" which has shrimp, a piece of whiting fish, and "crabby" fries (to die for).  I enjoyed the dinner, but I would have enjoyed the fish more, if it had a seafood seasoned breading mix versus a a stone ground corn meal coating-the fish was meaty but hidden under the coating.  Overall, I was really impress with the GF crew and their wonderful customer service.  Thank your for bringing delicious seafood to everyone's noisy stomachs in the Tidewater area.  Keep going-I predict that you will have your own restaurant establishment real soon.  

For the "Got Fish (GF)" Food Truck, I give them an extra "little bitty" crumb which would give them a "Five & A Half Crumb Rating."