By Clint McElroy
HQ 62 | SUMMER 2007
As he usually does, our beloved editor, publisher and gadabout came to me with all the stories for this issue of HQ (the term I use because if I say it quickly enough at parties people hear it wrong and think I write for GQ). And as he usually does, young Jack asked for my blessing on the articles. Usually, I give a dismissive wave of my hand, and he happily runs off to his little printing presses or whatever, to go do that voodoo that he doo so well.
This time, he struck a nerve. When I saw the article about the Top 10 Dishes in Huntington, I suddenly yearned for things that have sadly faded from reality. So, I have come up with the “Top 10 Dishes That Ain’t Around No More In Huntington.” Let us proceed in alphabetical order …
Albrecht’s Doughnuts
I hear the multitude of voices: “Clint! Are you mad? Albrecht’s was known for its fried chicken!” Very true. But if you make that claim it only means you were never at Albrecht’s around 7 a.m. when their doughnuts were fresh out of the grease and newly dipped in glaze. Still warm, dripping with that semi-opaque sugary-goo, I do believe it was physically impossible to eat more than three at one sitting because the accumulated goodness would cause your synapses to shut down. And trust me, I tried.
Bluegrass Grill’s Onion Rings
Okay, it wasn’t technically in Huntington (more like Ashland) but it’s my list and I can put whatever I want on it. These were perfect. Forget eggs, forget honey, forget manna from heaven. This was the perfect food. I wish I had frozen a couple of tons of them before it closed.
Burger Chef’s Big Chef
For 42 years Burger Chef said, “We ain’t lettin’ you just run away with this, McDonald’s!” The fact that they fought the good fight for more than four decades probably has to do with the fact that there were two of them (Burger Chef and Jeff) and only one Ronald McDonald. Although Jeff mysteriously vanished in the early 1990’s, the Chef persevered. I loved Burger Chef for a kit and caboodle of reasons: they flame-broiled; they toasted the buns; they were the first ones to offer combo meals; they gave away Star Wars toys in their value meals; they had a “Batburger.” A freakin’ Batburger for crying out loud, inspired by the Batman TV show! But most importantly, they had the Ark of the Covenant of fast food sandwiches – the Big Chef. Two meat patties, shredded lettuce, cheese and some substance called “Big Chef Sauce.” I know not what ingredients made up the “Big Chef Sauce,” but I would not be surprised if they included “baby’s laughs” and “slices of Heaven.” Burger Chef gave up the fight in 1996, but I have heard rumors that the Big Chef would someday reappear. I don’t believe. After all, we never saw Jeff again.
Calamity Cafe’s Mother Earth Pasta
Oh Calamity, we hardly knew ye. This is one of those cases where my obsessive love for one particular dish came back to bite me on the butt. I loved the Mother Earth Pasta and never ordered anything else from the Calamity menu. I was living in a fantasy land where the Calamity would always be open. Since the place closed I have heard from a million people about other items on the bill of faire that I never got a chance to sample. Thank you, Big Tobacco Companies! (I don’t know what that has to do with anything, but I’ve always wanted to write it in a column).
Frank’s Sandwich Shop’s Steak Sandwich with Hots
I’ve already written an entire column about these gargantuas of gastronomic greatness. If I write about them again, it will only rekindle the longing for that amazing combination of beefy flavor and searing heat, and my heart can’t take the sadness.
French Tavern’s French Onion Soup
Admittedly, I had a very narrow window of opportunity for this delicacy. I wasn’t exactly “rolllin’ in dough” back in those days. But if I had one of those weeks where I was allowed in the plasma-donor center twice, I might have had the disposable income to squire mu lady to the French Tavern. There, we would buy their French Onion Soup. It was the stuff of legends. Rich, savory broth, flavor packed sweet onions, and that cheese melted over the top, with a little crust at the sides. Great Googa-Mooga! As I said, it was a bit price-prohibitive so I would only buy one bowl and we would share. But she had to be quick with that spoon or she was gonna be hungry.
Kresge’s Hamburgers
I realize this was in Ironton, but such was the goodness of this dish, I had to include it. To call it a hamburger would be a bit of a misnomer. True, it was made of hamburger, but it was not a “hamburger” within the bounds of conventional thought. There was no patty. The meat was loose. Imagine a Sloppy Joe without sauce, and you have a Kresge’s hamburger. Slap a handful of Snyder’s potato chips on one side, a vanilla Coke in a paper cup on the other, and you would have a meal that Rachel Ray would drive over her family to get to.
Olde Library’s Onion Loaf
Yes, it was the old Carnegie Library, magically transformed into a restaurant, with shelves of books, card files and the whole nine yards. They served an onion loaf the size of a cinder block. Thinly sliced sweet onions in a crispy coating that always put a smile on my face, started a rumble in my tummy, and provided me with breath that would peel the paint off a coal barge.
Retriever’s Monte Cristo
This is a mystery on a par with the disappearance of Amelia Earhart or the Lost Colony of Roanoke. One day I had my usual amazing lunch at Retrievers, and when I went back the next week it was some kind of ear, nose and throat clinic, I think. This left me jonesing for their amazing Monte Cristo. It was a ham and turkey and cheese sandwich, dipped in batter, then deep-fried and the crowning touch: powdered sugar. Never has a sandwich been soooo bad for me, and yet soooo good in me.
Victor’s Deli’s Egg Salad
Lunch at Victor’s was like going to the Academy Awards. Everybody who was anybody at lunch there, and I believe they ate there every day. The egg salad had a slight bite to it, and yet a bit of sweetness that was creamy and flavorful. Not only that, but I would invariably get a large amount in my moustache, which discouraged people from talking to me. When you are gutton such as moi, you don’t allow anything as mundane as contact with the outside world to deter you from your goal of stuffing your craw.
So what can we determine from this list? First, I have absolutely no sense of diet and nutrition whatsoever. Second, I am basically carnivorous because I eat MORE than my share of hamburger. And third, I eat waaaaaaayyyyyy too many onions and am lucky to have any kind of a social life at all.
