Monday, July 8, 2013.
Another Roast Beef Poor Boy.
I am on a roast beef poor boy tear. Not because I'm working on a survey--the usual reason for my unusual eating of the same dishes or in the same kinds of restaurants. No, right now I just find myself thinking about roast beef poor boys a lot.
When it rained enough that Mary Ann had to quit her house-painting project, I was just about finished with the radio show, and the other Mary was hungry. The only noisy gear in this otherwise smooth-running plan was that they wanted to go to The Chimes, and probably sit outside in the steam. The sun had returned, and it was a jungle out there.
Mary Ann said that the roast beef at the Chimes was good. It was one of the few things I've not yet had on that minefield they call a menu. I've had good food here--notably their oysters, prepared any way. But I have also encountered quite a few mediocrities.
Add the roast beef to that list. The bread wasn't right (warmed, but not toasted--a critical difference). Neither the beef nor its gravy had enough oomph to satisfy this old roast-beef-loving palate.
I could have told this by looking at it. The darker the roast beef and its gravy, the better the poor boy. This isn't without exceptions--darker brown colors often come from the Kitchen Bouquet bottle. But I'd say it's just slightly less reliable than the toasted-bread criterion and the the thin-sliced advantage. Half a sandwich is all I could stay interested in.
I also had a cup of red beans, which MA also touted to me. (She loves the Chimes.) Nix on this, too. No hot sausage, even on request.
The waiter seemed to be more interested in enforcing his rules than in what we wanted. MA asked whether the potato salad on the rib platter could be replaced with cole slaw. The waiter acted as if he had done us the greatest service in the world by checking with the kitchen on that. First example of less than great service here.
The Chimes. Covington: 19130 W Front St. 985-892-5396.
