|
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
|
|
|
|
|
||||
|
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
|
|
|
|
Also this issue: Under the Table |
|
|
|
|
 |
|||||||||
April 4-10, 2002
food
 Photo By: Michael T. Regan |
|
Big George's Stop-n-Dine Cafeteria285 S. 52nd St., 215-748-8200
Mon.-Tue., 11 a.m.-9 p.m.; Wed.-Thu., 7 a.m.-9 p.m.; open weekends from 7 a.m. Friday till 9 p.m. Sunday
Wheechair accessible. No reservations. No credit cards.
There are ribs, and there are ribs.
Ribs are a change of pace, something to order when the sandwiches don’t sound terribly exciting and you can’t stomach the thought of another burger. Ribs are an experience, a silent symphony of spicy sauce and tender meat, a wordless but irrefutable argument against vegetarianism.
But like most foods closely associated with a particular region, ribs are best enjoyed in their natural habitat. In the South, good ribs -- the fallin'-off-the-bone, meltin'-in-your-mouth kind of good -- are plentiful. In the Northeast, they are rare. And it was with this in mind that we decided to make a rib joint the next stop for the Lunch Bunch.
Our first choices -- the Rib Crib in Germantown, and Dwight's on Germantown Avenue -- had to be eliminated because they are takeout-only operations. Then Daryl suggested Big George's Stop-n-Dine Cafeteria, a West Philly institution on the bustling 52nd Street shopping strip, and four of us, three of whom have eaten ribs in Southern states and get misty-eyed at the memory, set out to see what Big George had to offer.
Our quest was only partially successful.
The first sign of trouble was the size of the booths. Two of us are reed thin, but it still was impossible for the four of us to sit together. Ah, well, we were there to eat anyway, not to talk (who needs conversation when there are ribs to be devoured?) We dumped our coats in booths (pretending not to notice the sign clearly stating the policy against saving seats) and got in line.
Avowed carnivore Howard ordered the ribs and the jumbo shrimp, with collard greens and fries on the side. He immediately expressed disappointment with the ribs. "Fairly tasteless and overcooked," he reported later. "They were drenched in a tepid sauce lacking much in the way of flavor, gusto or zing."
Maybe my expectations were lower, but I thought the ribs weren't bad. I've certainly had better, but they weren't dry, which is the most common fault I've encountered. But I had to agree they were less tasty than I'd hoped.
I fared better with the flounder. Rarely do I enjoy fish that's been breaded and fried, but this was a fine filet, not over-breaded nor overcooked. Howard also raved about the seafood entree he tried: "The fried jumbo shrimp were huge -- plump and yummy in a thick breading, fried just right so that the shrimp were cooked, but not immolated."
Daryl loved the meatloaf-sized Salisbury steak: "Well-spiced, well-cooked and extremely filling, even for an above-average-sized eater." Mike declared the fried chicken "pretty perfect. Spicy, crunchy skin gave way to flavor-filled meat that wasn't dry in any way."
The side dishes were a mixed bag. First, the bad news. Daryl and Howard both found the collard greens lacking. "Not bad," said Daryl, "just bland. No vinegary zip like my Aunt Sylvia used to make." The macaroni and cheese, he added, "bore a striking and unpleasant resemblance to right-out-of-the-box Velveeta." The good news: Mike liked the green beans, and I loved the sweet potatoes, which were practically a dessert.
Speaking of which ... none of us cared for the apple pie. Mike put it best when he described it as "unnaturally sweet." Howard deemed the sweet potato pie "passable"; the clove and nutmeg flavors were too heavy for his taste.
"But the cornbread," Daryl added, "now that was memorable. ... It's a lot like Aunt Sylvia's, only better." I heartily agreed; the cornbread was moist without being cake-like, and it was full of flavor.
So, to recap: good chicken, fish, shrimp and Salisbury steak, a wide range of quality in the sides and desserts, but alas, mediocre-at-best ribs. A major disappointment mitigated by some pleasant surprises. We'd go back, just not when jonesin' for barbecue.
Anyone have the number for the Rib Crib?
