For a second and final time, our visas to Qingdao were denied. China issues visas by province, so this doesn’t mean we can never teach in China, it just means that we have to start our search over in another area. In reality, this means we are back at square one. In cautious anticipation of our visas being denied again with another school, we have also started looking for employment again in the US so if anyone has ANY ins ANYwhere…hook us up. kthx.
At any rate, we are settling back into our digs in rural, southwestern Illinois, near St Louis. To keep our depressed minds occupied and ourselves busy, we’ve been making forays into the local nightlife spots for ‘fine’ food, spirits, and culture. While there is much more of everything here, than in Idaho, the difference in, erm, quality, is not vast.
I would like to tell you about a few dining experiences we’ve had that I think offer a good summation of what eating out in the greater Alton area entails. The first is a famous, venerable establishment that Altonians are quite proud to call their own. Fast Eddie’s Bon Air (or Fat Eddie’s as NPR listener’s like to call it) draws motorcyclists and cheapskates from all across the nation, including Alton Brown of Food Network fame. This biker bar, who’s ceilings are lined with black trash bags, calls your attention with neon signs as soon as you cross the bridge out of Missouri, advertising 99 cent burgers and 39 cent shrimp. Fat Eddie’s caters to the masses by selling cheap, salty, fried food for outrageously low prices…as long as you first purchase an overpriced beer. This is what John Tappert of “Bar Rescue” calls a loss leader. In reality, the prices had gone up 100% on some of the products in the last year or so ago, but a $1.99 hamburger the size of my face is still a pretty good deal, eh? Inside, the bar is dark, dingy, and decorated with relics of the road, but everyone there seems to happily embrace the jankiness and revel in the raunch. I enjoyed three or four poorly cleaned peel’n’eat shrimp, a burger, and a couple of tankards of watery beer. Brian also sampled the brat which tasted strongly of Funions. Others in our party enjoyed fried steak chunks on a stick and countless baskets of free popcorn so salty that you need to buy several bottles of water not to choke on. Other items on the menu include pork kebab, other meats on sticks, red dog, and french fries. There angle is clear, the saltier the food, the more you need to drink!
I was severely warned that I’d hate this place, that it was class-less and gross. And it was. But, I don’t know, I kinda liked it’s honesty. It doesn’t pretend to be anything other than a joint set on making the most money off of intoxicated tourists by tricking them into thinking they are saving money on food. I’m pretty sure the waitresses tip themselves with your change before you tip them but hey, the bathroom doors lock and that’s a hell of a lot more than can be said of even the nicest nightclubs in big cities. There is an enormous “outdoor” (but totally enclosed and attached) smokers area where there is dancing and mediocre live music covering everything from Miley to Elvis. I give it a solid 3 out of 5 stars for being true to it’s grungy self. Everybody, raise your $4 Coors Light to Fat Eddie’s. Huzzah!
Fat Eddie’s, in all its glory!
The second dining experience I need to discuss occurred at one of the fancier establishments in town, Castelli’s at 255 (also known as Moonlight). This is the place where one would go for an anniversary, someones birthday, a special date night, graduation, etc. When one is 50+ years old and 200+ lbs. I’m not saying this to be judgemental, everyone knows I like my chubby grub joints and that I fancy myself a distinguished lady of age who deserves to wear matching pant sets. But, it is important that you understand the clientele Castelli’s attracts. A large, well-lit exterior of a non-chain is a welcome sight in this neck of the woods and the name suggests delicious, authentic Italian cuisine. Boy, was I wrong!
I’ve taken on a job babysitting a few days a week which is quite taxing and at the end of the day, I want to do something relaxing and enjoyable. On Friday, I suggested to Brian that we go out for dinner at Castelli’s to take our minds off of unemployment and the applesauce caked in my hair. A moment after we arrived, before we were even in the door, “JEFF, PARTY OF TWO. JEFF, PARTY OF TWO,” blared in our ears. Brian gave me a sideways look…a look of fear. “Come on,” I said, “it’ll be fine.” Upon entry we realized that…um…we were…um…unique? By far the youngest and most overdressed there, we realized that perhaps this wasn’t going to be the upscale Italian-ish meal we had anticipated. After twenty minutes we were escorted into the moderately decorated dining room by a 13 year old in Abercrombie & Fitch. We were seated at a table sandwiched between a screaming baby and, oh wait, a screaming baby. The tables were obviously stolen from a recently closed diner and the chairs belonged to everyone’s mom in the 1950s. Our waitress brought us a drinks menu which listed several types of wine but no regions, makers, or vintages. She reluctantly accepted our polite declines for a refreshing Moscato (“it’s real sweet, like candy!”) and gave us the food menu. This menu was primarily composed of simple pasta dishes that were either covered in cream or cheese or steak or bacon or batter or all of them. As this was our first time there, she decided to walk us through the menu. Castelli’s, apparently, is famous for their onion rings and fried chicken, their baked potato, and their house salad with homemade Caesar dressing. After a few minutes, I hedged my bets and ordered the Chicken Parm with a side house salad. Brian ordered some fried chicken pieces, including livers and gizzards, a house salad as well, and some St Louis traditional toasted ravioli for us to share.
After a short while our salads came out. I tried not to laugh, but it was hard. They were revoltingly overdressed, soggy blobs of what I assume is iceberg lettuce from 2006. Shortly after we began eating, our waitress came over, probably summoned by our grimaces, offering to bring us something else. We refused, knowing that this was still probably our best option. The toasted ravioli lacked the typical breadcrumb crust in favor of some pale batter and were filled with some creepy, lukewarm meat paste. Brian said they looked like little UFOs. Undigestable Foodlike Objects. And the entrees were disgusting. Mine was a chewy chunk of chicken on a spoonful of water pasta. Brian’s fried chicken tasted like KFC and I almost broke a crown on the gizzards (Brian liked the gizzards, but he always likes the gizzards). We quickly paid the check and fled to the comfort of people with full mouths of teeth. I give them 1 out of 5, rather than a 0, because I’m amazed we didn’t get E. coli.
The house salad, a favorite, apparently.
There are some genuinely decent places around here though, I’m not trying to say the whole area is lacking. Over the summer, we drove out to Missouri for some really excellent wine tasting in and around Augusta. We also went to one of the nicer restaurants in Alton, both this summer and more recently. It is called Gentlin’s, and it specializes in American fare with a modern twist (that twist is usually butter). The first time we went there, Brian got a steak solely because it was smothered in onion straws, but this backfired when his nephew decided the only thing he would eat on the entire food-laden table were those dang straws! On the more recent excursion we went as just the two of us. The entrees were fine, and the creme brulee we shared quite good, but their crab cakes are awesome. Wait, correction: the crabcakes are basic, but the horseradish sauce they are served with is incredible and I wouldn’t know how to mimic it so I’m drawn back. Both times we had the same waitress. When she comes to check on you, instead of asking “How is everything?”, she preempts you by asking “Everything still wonderful?”. So you are temporarily lulled into thinking that everything is, in fact, wonderful. Nice mind-warping, lady! It’s a solid dining experience, I give it 3.5 out of 5.
So, needless to say, eating out here is an experience. Quite hit or miss, well, actually quite miss… but that’s ok. Lately, we’ve also been out a couple of times recently to hear live music around St Louis in the Missouri suburbs. A couple of weeks ago we went with Brian’s mom to a total dive bar called something like Eddie’s (there must be a lot of Eddies around) Place to see her friend’s cousin play steel guitar in a country band performing there. The bar itself was super smoky and their beer options were sad, but the music of the Fourth Street Band was great! Also, the drummer just looked so dang happy the whole time they were performing that you couldn’t help but smile too. It seems like musicians always look way too serious when they are playing, and I get it, it must be hard, but if you aren’t having fun when performing, then why do it? But I digress, At any rate, I enjoyed boogeying and watching the blackout drunk middle-aged women dance (and inevitably fall) in the center of the dance floor. A solid evening out, I give it a 4 out of 5.
Just one of the many delightful signs decorating this dive bar.
About a week after that we met Brian’s dad at a wine bar local to him where there was also live music. Rendezvous was part cafe and part bar, with a dinner menu and drinks served in both. It was crowded and loud with the two musicians playing in the small cafe area but the waitress was still able to bring us samples of wines to test before deciding. After trying a weirdly heavy domestic Pinot Grigio and a Dornfelder, a German red wine that is slightly fizzy and served chilled, we landed on the Argentinian New Age white blend made of 10% Sauvignon Blanc and 90% Torrontes (http://www.quintessentialwines.com/new-age-white-wine). We basically inhaled a whole bottle in twenty minutes. Though this was partially because it was so manic in there that we wanted to get the wine down before someone bumped into our table and spilled it! The band was fine, they were adept at playing a range of instruments and stuck to requests and crowd pleasers. Brian got some decent Gordon Lightfoot out of them which was enjoyed by all. I’ll give it a 2.5 out of 5 for good wine, weird atmosphere. Oh, and their bathroom door didn’t lock. I’m just sayin’.
One way we have found to negate the mediocre nightlife to be found around here is to distill our own spirits and muse on our dream of one day operating a vineyard/winery/wine distribution center of our own. Santa Claus brought us a “make your own gin” kit which isn’t totally traditional in its process (think: no still, but still all the fun at no extra cost to your vision!). In fact, similar to a strong gin we had in Freeport, ME this summer, it is actually vodka that becomes gin by soaking juniper berries and other botanicals in it. The kit recommends using a mid-priced vodka so we decided to make it slightly more unique by choosing a flavored spirit. We landed on New Amsterdams Peach Vodka and, over 36 hours of adding and soaking, we produced some damn fine godka!
Semi-homemade peach gin. I forgot to take a picture until it was almost too late.
Ok, once again I’ve accidentally turned this into a food blog, sorry! But I think food culture is indicative of many larger, underlying cultural themes and in explaining these perhaps you can get a better understanding of this Midwest nook. Great, now I’ve finally used my anthropology degree practically. Take that, four-year college education!
-Sophie
idaknowwheretogo (I don't know where to go!) 