The Town Fryer

I re­ceived my Birthmas present to my­self last evening. The Sony DSC-N1. You can read some ex­haus­tive and ex­cel­lent re­views here: [1 2]. Basically, it is an 8MP point-and-shoot that is the size of a pack of cards [it lit­er­al­ly fits in my palm] and has a 3LCD touch-screen on the back that gives ac­cess to all the menu items. It has nice bells and whis­tles [al­though the paint pro­gram it comes with is stu­pid] but not a bunch of dif­fer­ent knobs and tog­gles to ac­cess them. I’ve on­ly tak­en 4 pic­tures thus­far [my mem­o­ry stick hasn’t ar­rived yet] and on­ly used the au­to func­tions [which isn’t go­ing to last] but I’m dig­ging its porta­bil­i­ty, speed of use and adapt­abil­i­ty. But I’m sup­posed to be re­view­ing a restau­rant, not a cam­era.

The Town Fryer in Cleveland, OH

I vis­it­ed The Town Fryer be­cause that was where the December Cleveland Weblogger Meetup was be­ing held. I chucked a ride on yon­der with Steve “Rookie of the Year” Goldberg for a bite be­fore the meet­up start­ed shindig­ging. The Fryer an unas­sum­ing place, used to be Chung Wah’s Chinese and still has the sign on the wall. They got a nice juke­box full of good olé south­ern rock and roll and blues and a de­cent se­lec­tion of beer. Lonestar but no Dixie. I had me a Pacifica, which was okay but noth­ing to write home about. Steve or­dered him a mess of fried pick­les which were pret­ty good, al­though I don’t reck­on I could sus­tain my­self through a whole plate of ‘em.

For my din­ner I or­dered half a pound of fried cat­fish with green beans and cheesy grits. I was gonna get green beans and john­ny­cake, but de­cid­ed against the corn bread for rea­sons of gas­troin­testi­nal ca­pac­i­ta­tion. Now I hadn’t had fried cat­fish in a dog’s age, since I was about knee-high to some­thing short and had caught it my own self while fish­ing with my dad­dy or grand­pap­py on Brookville Reservoir. I was a bit timid at that age, es­pe­cial­ly about them stingers that the mud­suck­ers use to pro­tect their­selves, so when I caught a chan­nel cat I’d make some­one else un­hook it. 

After my meal, [which I still haven’t got­ten too, I hope you no­tice] I start­ed to re­mem­ber that cat­fish and me have a spe­cial kind of re­la­tion­ship. After I eat a cat­fish I usu­al­ly dream about be­ing a cat­fish and even start think­ing a lit­tle bit like a cat­fish. It re­al­ly ain’t no sur­prise. If you talk with a cat­fish­er I reck­on they can all tell you some tales about how un­nat­ur­al and mag­ic they can be. Catfish is spe­cial. So af­ter my half pound of de­li­cious bat­tered cat­fish, I did in fact dream of be­ing a cat­fish and be­ing nice and com­fort­able in some warm riv­er mud. Here’s one of my fa­vorite po­ems by Richard Brautigan about a cat­fish.

Fried Catfish

The meal it­self was de­li­cious. For $7.95 I got a half pound of farm-raised cat­fish and one side. I got a side of green beans and or­dered and ex­try side of cheesy grits, just to see how they com­pared to my own. The cat­fish is dipped in Cajun-spiced bat­ter, deep-fried and served with a mild and tangy mus­tard sauce. Beer and cat­fish go well to­geth­er. I was too young to know that last time. The half pound was about two and a half cat­fish. The green beans was cooked with ba­con and a bit of mo­lasses and was swim­ming in the juice. Quite tasty, and I would have loved to have more. The cheesy grits weren’t so good. A bit clumpy and not very hot, but still quite ed­i­ble.

By this time I was pret­ty darn stuffed, but I couldn’t go home with­out dessert. I could have got­ten me a deep fried Twinkie, some Lemon Squares or some home­made ba­nana pud­ding with Nilla wafers, but I opt­ed for the deep fried Oreos. Nine of ‘em for $5. I asked for a big glass of milk to warsh it all down with, and got it. I ate me 7 of them Oreos and gave two away. They were pret­ty darn good, the cook­ie part get­tin’ all soft and hot as a re­sult of the fryin’, and the bat­ter be­ing tasty in and of its own self. I think I pre­fer a deep fried Snickers bar, though, truth be told. Other stuff on their menu in­cludes Red Beans and Rice with Andaouille Sausage, Fried Sweet Potatoes and Fried Macaroni and Cheese.

All this food re­sult­ed in me be­ing stuffed like a prize win­nin’ hog, and sweatin’ grease like I was that same hog roastin’ on a spit. I had a hard time with the shut-eye and even woke up ex­try ear­ly be­cause I was so full. I’m still full, now. I’d rec­om­mend the Town Fryer as a good place to go for down­home, if it ain’t broke don’t fix it food and fix­ins. You prob­a­bly don’t wan­na go if you’re veg­e­tar­i­an though.

Fried Oreos. This is blurry because I haven't tweaked my camera yet.

4 thoughts on “The Town Fryer

  1. pics look good adam, i hope that cam­era works out for you.
    were you drink­ing beer & milk? my 2 faves but not usu­al­ly to­geth­er.

  2. The milk on­ly went with the ore­os, but it was brack­et­ed by beer. Now that I think of it I’m sur­prised I didn’t get sick, but at the time I was okay. Have a Merry Christmas, Lou.

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