By Clint McElroy
HQ 54 | WINTER 2005
No doubt about it: with the opening of Pullman Square and other downtown changes, Huntington is undergoing a bit of a renaissance. This seems especially evident in the realm of dining.
New restaurants are popping up daily it seems and, let’s face it, that’s one of the keys to downtown’s revitalization. But I remember what Momma Donna used to tell me when I was still in knee-pants: “Make new friends but keep the old, one is silver and the other gold.”
Alright, that’s a lie. I’ve only worn knee-pants once, in college, and that was on a dare. I haven’t been able to show my face in that Christian Science Reading Room since.
In keeping with that spirit, I thought I would celebrate all of these new Huntington eateries by remembering some of those that are long-gone.
I know what you’re thinking: “Hey! Didn’t you do something like this about Frank’s Sandwich Shop a few years ago?” No. You see that was more of a tale of a man trying to relive precious memories from his youth. This is completely different. This is the tale of a man writing a column when he is really, really hungry.
It may surprise you, but there hasn’t always been a McDonald’s in Huntington at every corner. Before golden arches dotted the landscape, we had two places to satisfy our need for hamburgers: Burger Chef and BBF.
The menu at Burger Chef wasn’t what you would call expansive. As a matter of fact, each sandwich was exactly the same, just with a different name, and each name had the word “Chef” in them – Big Chef, Super Chef, etc. They were all lip-smackin’ good, if for no other reason than the delicious sauce, which was like no other condiment I have ever tasted before or since. Of equal mystery was the identity of the company spokesmen. Yes, I said spokesmen. They had two: the Burger Chef himself, and his young friend, Jeff. There was never an explanation of the relationship between the pair of chums. I would like to think it was a healthy relationship like that of Batman and his ward Robin, as opposed to the less healthy one between Michael Jackson and any of his young sleep-over pals.
We also had BBF, which stood for Borden Burger Foods. I have to admit this was always a tad disconcerting to me. For decades, Borden used Daisy the Cow as their company emblem. Then they come out with a chain of fast-food places specializing in ALL-BEEF hamburgers? Have you seen Daisy lately? Me either. Makes you wonder, don’t it?
When I worked at WKEE we shared studios on Fourth Avenue with WOWK-TV. Across the street was Albrecht’s Restaurant, famous for its fried chicken. But what I loved were the fresh donuts they made every morning. If you timed it just right, you could get a box of those bad boys still hot when they put them out at 7:30 a.m. I can’t tell you how many times WOWK anchorman Bob Smith and I would be throwing punches over the last box of those golden sinkers, still dripping in hot, sugary glaze. My jaw still aches every time I see him on one of those Camden Park commercials. Dude throws a mean right cross.
Being a really cheap boyfriend, I hardly ever took Leslie anywhere expensive when we were dating. My lack of fine dining experience was exhibited the first time I took her to another of my favorite defunct restaurants, the French Tavern. I wanted to impress her by ordering something French, and since they didn’t have French Fries or French Toast on the menu, I ordered something I’d never had before – French Onion Soup. I’m sure she was impressed when I sent it back, claiming, “Somebody dropped a hunk of bread in this soup!”
Who could forget The Old Library, which was located in, well, the old library. Before it was Huntington Junior College, and after it was the first Cabell County Public Library, that building housed a great restaurant. The tables were surrounded by shelves and shelves of books and if you sat in the same place every time you ate there, you could get through a whole book (It’s how I read “Gravity’s Rainbow” by Thomas Pynchon). They served a killer onion loaf that nations have gone to war over, and an amazing Monte Cristo – a club sandwich loaded with extra cheese, dipped in batter, deep fried and, I kid you not, dusted in powdered sugar. Eat that, Dr. Atkins!
Don’t get me wrong. I tell these stories not to bury Caesar, but to praise him. (Sorry, I have to throw in one reference like that to make sure my buddies at the Marshall University Theatre Department read the column.) It’s true, I have wonderful memories of these great eateries, but I fully intend to make new memories with the latest batch of restaurants.
Although I must confess I will never recover from the trauma of Calamity Cafe closing. I miss my Mother Earth Pasta!
