Sunday, May 16. Jerks Island Grill. No Carafes. I was at my desk almost all day today, and I didn't come close to finishing all I needed to do. But the day had its bright points. Mary Leigh and I went to lunch at Jerks Island Grill, a new restaurant near the burgeoning intersection of I-12 and LA 22. Opened just a couple of months ago, it's too new to review. But the Marys like it, and I go where they want to go.
Jerks (what a name!) looks like a chain restaurant, but it's a one of a kind. For now. I have a feeling that the owners created it with multiple units in mind. Greg Reggio--one of the chefs who own Zea--consulted with them on the project. And he's all about chain restaurants.
We had a chain kind of meal. We split an order of guacamole, excellent in past meals. It wasn't quite there today, something that can be blamed on the variability of avocados. You have to catch them at the perfect moment, and these were a little underripe.
And then sandwiches. ML had a hamburger in her special way, which is more like a hamburger steak than a sandwich. I got a grilled chicken BLT that looked good and was--spicy and crunchy with the dressing. It had a minor problem: the bacon was so undercooked that neither the cook nor the waiter could have taken a good look at it before sending it to the table. I just removed it. Bacon is completely out of control in restaurants anyway. (I never could understand the idea of a bacon cheeseburger, for example.) Both these sandwiches were twice as big as we could eat. The dog and the cat will get treats.
I must say I like the feel of Jerks. Or at least what it suggests. Which is sitting in a café on the beach, drinking tropical-juicy rum cocktails, nibbling snacks, listening to island music, and discussing life with friends or lovers. The reality, of course, is that there is no beach, and if you dared to sit here for hours drinking, the management would not be happy about it, because they want to turn those tables. And the array of televisions tuned to sports contests kills the atmosphere, too. Why not the Travel Channel or the Food Network? Why must all restaurants show only sports?
Since we were in the neighborhood, we looked around a little for a new carafe for my coffeemaker. It seems to me these things were all over the place, until I needed one. I have checked four stores already and found nothing. We added two more failures in this quest today: Target and Belk. Everywhere are 12-cup carafes, but I need a four-cup.
The coffeemaker involved is eighteen years old, and I got it for free. For agreeing to buy what wound up being several hundred dollars worth of Gevalia Kaffe. (It took me a couple of years to decide that Gevalia coffee is not even close to my taste in coffee.) The carafe I need locks onto the drip unit. I don't think they make anything like this anymore. But I have a second, bigger coffeemaker in reserve--also gotten free from Gevalia a long time ago. But you can make four cups of coffee in a twelve-cup unit with no sacrifice of anything. Writing this makes me feel stupid for even thinking about wanting to keep the old one going. I'm going to go into the kitchen right now and throw it into the trash.
There, I did it. It served me well, but it's time to say good-bye. So why do I feel bad about it? It would still be happily at work I had a new carafe. But I will never find one, so. . . why am I still writing about this?
Jerks Island Grill. Covington: 70437 Highway 21. 985-893-1380.
