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Steak 'n' Shake (6075 Emerald Parkway)

Among men of letters, consistency gets a bad rap, from Huxley ("Consistency is contrary to nature, contrary to life") to Wilde ("Consistency is the last refuge of the unimaginative") to Emerson ("A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds").

But among men of appetite for good greasy lunches, consistency is a virtue. When noon rolls around and your stomach is growling, you want to know you can depend on a restaurant to provide consistently good food and service.

The Steak 'n' Shake at Emerald Parkway is just such a restaurant. I've eaten there at least ten times in the past three years, trying everything from the steakburger to the turkey club, from the chili to the onion rings to the slaw, and I've never gotten a bad meal, or bad service, or dirty silverware, or been seated at an unwiped table.

My most recent visit was yesterday. I needed some comfort food on Election Day 2008, and Steak 'n' Shake didn't disappoint. I ordered the Frisco Melt Platter - two patties with American and Swiss cheeses, lettuce, tomato, and "tangy Frisco sauce," served on grilled sourdough. The platter comes with two sides. I opted for Steak 'n' Shake's signature shoestring potatoes with cheddar cheese sauce, a dish of cole slaw, and a tall fountain Coke.

After a brief wait, the friendly server brought my meal, and I sat there in a sea of white tile and black formica and stainless steel and red neon and savored every bite. It was excellent, as any meal containing 132 grams of fat should be.

The check was $10 exactly, and I left a $2 tip. Not inexpensive by any stretch, but worth every penny. Thank you, Emerald Parkway Steak 'n' Shake. See you next time.

Noodles and Company (6104 Parkcenter Circle)

I'm recovering from the first stomach bug of the season (brought home by Cap Jr., who just started kindergarten), so today I thought I'd try something a little easier on the gut than my usual burger and fries. A coworker tipped me off that Noodles and Company had recently opened a Tuttle location. Pasta and soup seemed like just the ticket for my slowly-recovering GI tract.

The line was out the door at 11:35. It usually takes a while for a new restaurant to build a crowd, especially if that restaurant isn't easily seen from a major thoroughfare. Noodles is hard to see from Blazer Parkway and can't be seen at all from Tuttle, so the crowd had to be based on word of mouth - a good sign.

The wait gave me plenty of time to scan the menu. Noodles offers three broad categories of food (Asian, Mediterranean, and American). Within each category, you can select from four pasta dishes, a soup, and/or a salad. The Asian and Mediterranean categories looked particularly tasty, but I decided to play it safe, stick to the American category and order a small mac 'n' cheese, some chicken noodle soup, and a fountain drink.

And that's when I ran head-on into what MSNBC correspondent Bob Sullivan calls "Gotcha" capitalism. The Noodles menu offers something called a "trio" (any pasta, meat, and soup) for $7.25. The cashier announced my total as $11.86, and I had already handed him a twenty when it occured to me that something was wrong.

"$11.86 for mac and cheese and chicken soup?" I asked.

"Well, you also ordered a drink," said the cashier - a little blond kid who looked very much like Angel Face in Fight Club. You might remember him as the kid whose face is utterly destroyed by Ed Norton when he loses his self-control and his sanity near the end of the film.

"A four-dollar drink? Can't you combo-meal that or something? Make it cheaper?"

"Oh, you wanted a trio? What kind of meat do you want?"

"None. Who orders meat in mac and cheese?"

"Well, if you order the trio, you have to pick a meat."

"So you'll give me a discount if I take some chicken and throw it away?"

It doesn't take much to piss off a Gen-Y'er, and this kid looks like he'd like to kill me. And in some strange way, I'm enjoying this, because it hasn't been the best week for me either. I only wish I could have tormented the marketing wizard who designed Noodles' menu instead of this kid.

A little blonde girl with a "manager" tag overhears the discussion and asks if she can help. And by the vapid look in her eyes, I know she can't help, and it's going to get worse. I explain what I want, and that if I have to take chicken to get the trio deal, I will. So she explains to the kid how to refund my purchase and re-ring it properly, except that she won't listen when he tells her he hasn't yet made my change and there's nothing yet to refund. And they stand there for a full four minutes, staring at a twenty-dollar bill and a register that displays "11.86" and an open cash drawer, and arguing about what to do.

These are the Americans who are losing their jobs to illegal Mexican immigrants. And this is not a bad thing, no matter what Tom Tancredo (R-CO) may tell you.

Eventually, my meal rang up for $8.95, as it should have. I was given a numbered card, and I took a seat. Five minutes later, a girl brought my meal. I carefully inspected it for human spittle or Ex-Lax contamination, then commenced eating.

The chicken soup contained egg noodles, celery, and onions, and would have been very tasty, had it been warm...which it wasn't. I gulped it down first, while it was still a degree or two above room temperature.

The mac and cheese consisted of a large pile of elbow macaroni with a little dollop of cheese sauce in the middle and a sprinkling of shredded cheddar and Monterey Jack cheeses on top. An inch-wide ring of macaroni around the edges contained no sauce or seasoning whatsoever. I ate the seasoned portion, which turned out to be marginally better than Kroger's house brand of mac and cheese but not as good as Kraft, nowhere near as good as KFC's, and not even in the same ballpark with Boston Market or Hoggy's. At least the mac and cheese was marginally warmer than the soup.

There was also a little piece of chicken breast, which I apparently had to take to get my discount. A big issue over a little tissue. I took two bites. It was flavorful, but a little rubbery, like the chicken found in Bob Evans stir-fry. It wasn't bad, if you wanted chicken, which I didn't.

So I left feeling like the idiot who pays $5 to take his kid through the "fun house" at the fair, knowing I'd been ripped off, but helpless to do anything but blog about it. Maybe I'd have had a better meal if I had ordered from the Asian or Mediterranean selections. I'll never know, because I won't go back.

Given the well-decorated dining area and trendy menu, I feel certain Noodles and Company will be a big success. There seems to be no shortage of people in Dublin eager to spend $12 for a second-rate lunch.

Verdi (7770 Olentangy River Road)

Verdi is a tiny Italian restaurant in the Worthington Hills area. It's on old 315 just north of Hard Road, on the east side of the street. It's in the same strip mall as Hill's Market and can't easily be seen from the road. There are only seven tables in the place and they're so close together that it's hard to stand up from your seat without bumping people at the table behind you. At any given time, the buffet contains a salad station, a single pizza, a calzone, and a bowl of pasta. On busy days, the buffet often runs out of pizza, and you have to pick at your salad or pasta while you wait for a fresh pie. The place appears to have only one employee, who is definitely not Italian (we'll call him The Proprietor).

So why four spots?

Because the pizza is the best I've ever eaten at a buffet, hands down. It's a thin-crust pie you can fold up and eat New York style, cut into big triangles the way God and Tony Soprano intended, topped with fresh mozzarella and sweet, not-too-spicy pepperoni. And you'd better like pepperoni, because that's the only kind of pizza you'll find at Verdi's buffet. (Yougoddaproblemwiddat?) Quality trumps quantity: one Verdi's pepperoni pizza is better than the twelve varieties of cardboard-crust pie you'll find at Cici's. The sauce is delicious and The Proprietor thoughtfully puts out a dish of it in case you want to dip your crusts.

The calzone is as almost as good as the pizza. Great crust, fresh green peppers and onions, ham, pepperoni, and sweet Italian sausage. The Proprietor mixes that same sweet Italian sausage with his marinara sauce and penne pasta to provide the third element of the Verdi Trinity: pizza, calzone, pasta. Three discrete entities that come together in one unified Buffet. Sacre-licious.

Well, technically, there's a fourth element: salad. It seems fresh enough, especially the cheese, which is probably the same "moots-a-dell" found in the pizza. But the salad is strictly there in a supporting role, and if you eat too much of it, you're wasting valuable stomach capacity that could be better applied to pizza, pasta, and calzone.

The all-you-can-eat lunch with a Pepsi and tax is $7.74. Whether to tip at a buffet is entirely up to you, but I always do, because in addition to meeting the challenges of running a sole proprietorship, The Proprietor makes a really great pizza. Alla salute!

The Dog Joint (59 S. State St., Westerville)

You're probably wondering why the Dublin Grease Guide would review a restaurant located in Westerville. Ordinarily, we wouldn't. But there's nothing like The Dog Joint in Dublin, or anywhere else in greater Columbus for that matter. And if you've got a hankering for a really good hot dog, it's worth the drive.

The Dog Joint bills itself as "gourmet dogs and more." Gourmet hot dogs: what a brilliant idea. There's no shortage of gourmet hamburgers in this town, but if you want a really good hot dog, you're out of luck, unless you're at a Clippers or Jackets game. (I hear there's a Nathan's at the zoo, but I've never tried it, and I'm skeptical that the zoo food court provides true Nathan's quality.)

The first thing I noticed was the friendly staff. We were greeted with a friendly "hello" upon entering and a "bye, folks" on the way out. You can tell the difference between genuine friendliness and a phony friendliness script that was written in a corporate office and is spoken by some poor wage slave under duress, and this was the former. We're talking 1950's malt-shop friendliness, as seen on TV.

The second thing I noticed was the menu. You'd be advised to step out of line and study it for a few moments before ordering. You begin by choosing a bun (egg or honey wheat), then a method of cooking your dog (steamed or grilled), then choose the dog (beef, turkey, bratwurst, Italian sausage). Corn dogs also are available. Next, choose from a list of more than 40 toppings, including almonds, bacon, dried cranberries, and six kinds of mustard.

To simplify matters, The Dog Joint offers twelve specialty dogs, including the Windy City (yellow mustard, onions, sweet relish, tomatoes, pickles, sport peppers, and celery salt), the Aloha (bell peppers, crushed pineapple, bacon, brown sugar sauce, cinnamon, and almonds), and the Chuck Wagon (barbecue sauce, coleslaw, and pickles). If you like chili dogs, try the Messy Me (brown mustard, onions, chili, cheddar cheese).

Next, select a side: fries (plain, with cheese, or with chili and cheese), onion rings, baked beans, mac & cheese, coleslaw, applesauce, or potato chips. Finally, choose a drink: soda, iced tea (plain or southern sweet style), coffee, milkshakes, malts, floats, or something called a "lemon shake-up." Beer will be available soon, thanks to the sensible voters of Westerville who've approved a zoning variation.

If you've made it this far, get ready for the best hot dog you've had in years...maybe ever. Oh, I'm sure if you're from Back East, you'll claim you've had better, but you're lying. (Also, shut up about the Yankees already.) The Dog Joint uses Vienna Beef dogs from Chicago, and mine was excellent. The fries are miniature British pub-style chips, and because of their size, they avoid that mushy-in-the-middle quality.

Cap Jr., who is about to turn five, never passes up a good hot dog. He ordered the Puppy Meal - a smaller dog, a side, a drink, and a dessert (an ice cream cone, or Puppy Chow - Chex mix with peanut butter and chocolate on top). To prevent dessert meltdown, the counter staff gives your little one a Milk-Bone dog biscuit, which he or she can redeem for dessert after finishing the main meal - a fun and thoughtful touch.

Pricing is very reasonable - a bargain, really. A combo meal with a side and drink ranges from $5.35 to $6.65, depending on your choice of dog and toppings.

The only thing standing between The Dog Joint and a perfect five-spot rating is the tiny dining room. The Dog Joint occupies one of the older buildings in uptown Westerville, and while the owners have remodeled it very nicely, there simply isn't enough room for the crush of customers attracted to a high-quality eatery with a unique menu. We were fortunate enough to beat the dinner rush, but I would have enjoyed my meal more without having to watch hungry, impatient people waiting for tables and/or eating standing up. I did notice an outdoor patio with plenty of tables, so when (if?) true spring weather arrives, this shouldn't be an issue. In the meantime, arrive early, or order to go.

I'll definitely go back to The Dog Joint. I've got to try the Aloha, and Cap Jr. wants some Puppy Chow.

UPDATE, 4/5/08: Took Cap Jr. back to the Dog Joint for lunch today and tried the Aloha dog with cheese fries. The Aloha is excellent - the cinnamon, brown sugar, and pineapple give it a unique taste. Skip the cheese on the fries - they're better crispy than gooey and soggy with cheddar. Cap Jr. and I agreed that the egg bun is better than the wheat.

The Dog Joint was even more crowded on this visit, forcing us to sit outside on the patio. Fortunately, it was 60 degrees and sunny. Two visits, two great meals. We'll be back.

Panera Bread (Tuttle Mall)

Today I visited Panera Bread in Tuttle Mall, because that's where my lunch companion wanted to go and it was her turn to choose the destination. I've been to Panera just three times in my life - twice because my wife wanted to go, and today because my coworker wanted to go. It's a good place to get in touch with your feminine side.

The menu appeared to be full of healthy items perfect for people hoping to avoid the weight gain and loss of self-esteem that inevitably results from a lardy diet such as mine. I'm happy being a large mammal and I need a lunch that will keep me full for at least five hours, so I ordered the chipotle chicken sandwich ("NEW!").

Everybody seems to be offering chipotle-themed items in hope of harnessing the popularity of the Chipotle burrito chain. Here's another case of marketing-think gone awry, because as far as I can see, there's only one way to harness the popularity of the Chipotle burrito chain, and that's to sell burritos made from fresh ingredients at a bargain price.

I'd like to tell you how Panera's chipotle chicken sandwich tasted. I'd like to, but I can't, because they served me a ham sandwich instead with colby cheese, lettuce, and tomato, with a side of chips and a pickle spear. I was so preoccupied thinking about work that I didn't realize the mistake until I'd taken several bites, so I went ahead and finished the ham sandwich.

All the sandwich ingredients were fresh, but as I sat there chewing, it occurred to me that if I wanted a fresh sandwich on whole-wheat bread, I could make a better one at home using deli meat and cheese from the grocery store. I'd have my choice of mayo or mustard (Emeril's smooth honey, Gulden's brown, or French's yellow) and my choice of chips (this week's selections: cool ranch Doritos, Sun Chips, or wavy Lay's potato chips). And it wouldn't have cost me $8.84, either.

Panera rates three spots because the food was fresh, the restaurant was clean, the service was prompt (if inaccurate), and I did get change back from a $10 bill (though not much). It's a good choice for women wanting to stay skinny and men wanting to meet skinny women. If you don't fit into either of those categories - and as a married fat guy, I don't - you can find a better lunch for less money elsewhere.

Benny's Cheesesteaks (6495 Perimeter Drive)

I can't quite figure out Esquire magazine. A typical issue contains about fifty pages of excellent prose on topics of interest to men - careers, leisure activities, entertainment, transportation toys (cars, motorcycles, and boats), Kate Beckinsale. A typical issue also contains about forty pages of ads featuring pretty boys in crazy/trendy clothing in which no regular guy would be caught dead, and another forty pages of articles on how to look like a pretty boy and where to buy that crazy/trendy clothing.

Thanks to pressure from the Internet, subscriptions to print magazines are dirt cheap now. $8 for a year's subscription to Esquire, for example. And this month's issue features a 14-page article on a topic near and dear to my heart: sandwiches. Fourteen pages of sandwich recipes, sandwich-shop reviews, amusing sandwich-related anecdotes, and even beautifully-shot full-color photographs of sandwiches. I can't imagine the metrosexual types who read Esquire's fashion pages being the least bit interested in where to find a good cheesesteak sandwich. Mayonnaise can be very hard to get out of a good silk cravat, I hear.

I'm probably not representative of the typical Esquire reader. I wear $18 jeans and change my own motor oil. However, I am very interested in a good cheesesteak sandwich, which brought me to Benny's Cheesesteaks in the Kroger shopping center on Perimeter Drive — not once, but twice, so I could give you the lowdown.

On my first visit, I ordered the original cheesesteak combo with onion rings. No frills - just chopped ribeye steak, grilled onions, and your choice of cheese. Optional toppings include lettuce, tomato, banana peppers, jalapenos, and mayo. I skipped these toppings to better judge the staple ingredients.

I'm happy to report that the sandwich was excellent. The beef was tender and flavorful, the cheese melted to perfection, the onions strong but not overpowering. Where Benny's really shines is the bun, or more properly, the Italian loaf. Several signs proclaim that Benny's uses Amoroso hearth-baked bread and rolls. Apparently Amoroso's is well-known in Philly, which means little to a Midwesterner like me. The loaf was soft and warm on the inside, with an appropriately crisp crust on the outside. Great stuff.

The onion rings were a little disappointing. The batter was nearly perfect, but the rings themselves were chewy and prone to sliding out of the batter and ending up in one's lap. Be mindful, or you'll soil your $200 chinos ("Khaki is a color, chinos are pants," Esquire admonishes.)

The restaurant itself is pleasant enough for a strip-mall eatery. Seating was plentiful, and one wall featured a lithograph of the Founding Fathers, a photo of the Liberty Bell, and a copy of the Declaration of Independence. It's noisy, though - the constant "ching ching ching ching" of the cook chopping steak can overpower ordinary conversation. Maybe yelling to be heard by your lunch mates is an authentic part of the Philadelphia sandwich experience.

That was last Thursday. Today, I found myself craving yet another Benny's sandwich. As Ray Parker Jr. says, "I shoulda never gone back, I know, but I had to have just a little bit mo'." Today I tried the BBQ City sandwich with fries. The meat, cheese, and Italian loaf were excellent again, proving last week was no fluke, and the addition of the barbecue sauce makes a very good sandwich even better. The fries were considerably better than the onion rings - crinkle fries cooked to a perfect crisp. No soggy crinkle fries at Benny's.

Benny's isn't expensive. My first visit was just over $8; my second, just over $7...or about the same as a year's subscription to Esquire. Both are a good value. On the other hand, if I ever spend $200 on a pair of "chinos" as Esquire recommends, please hunt me down and kick my ass on general principles.

Asian Express (Mill Run)

Asian Express is a little Thai/Chinese restaurant in the Mill Run Shopping Center. You can't see it very well from Fishinger Road, so you'd never know it was there unless a friend told you about it. And I, Caspar Fine-Burger, am that helpful friend.

I first heard about Asian Express from a friend whose father had just opened a store next door selling video games and pogs.* The pog store is long gone, but Asian Express remains, because they serve very good food at reasonable prices with friendly service.

I stopped in today for a plate of cashew chicken with an egg roll and a Pepsi, for a grand total of $6.62. As I waited, I looked around the restaurant and remarked at how little it has changed over the years. Seven booths, original art on the northern wall (from the owner's daughters, perhaps?), photos of specialty dishes in an illuminated sign on the southern wall. The prices appear to be the same as they were in 1994. Soda is still 75 cents. The floors, trays, and tabletops were spotlessly clean. This led me to take the exceedingly rare (for me) step of putting a dollar in the TIPS jar at a serverless restaurant.

Five minutes later, my piping-hot order was ready. The menu cautions that the cashew chicken is "Thai Spicy" style, which means the brown sauce is considerably spicier than you'll find at most strictly-Chinese restaurants, and instead of chopped celery, there are lots and lots of onions. The chicken was lean and fully cooked, with nary a bit of gristle or fat to be found (are you listening, Cajun Big Easy?). The cashews were fresh, too - nothing ruins cashew chicken like cashews that are starting to turn.

The fried rice was flavorful enough to be tasty by itself, though it's better when mixed with the spicy brown sauce. The egg roll was a bit chewy and maybe a little heavy on the ginger, but still enjoyable.

So now you've been told about Asian Express. Come early or order to go (remember, there are only seven booths), but you'll get a lot for your money.

* What are pogs? http://www.badfads.com/pages/collectibles/pogs.html

Cajun Big Easy (Mall at Tuttle Crossing)

[no spots due to nausea]

I really should have known better than to stop at the Tuttle Crossing food court for lunch. But I'd just picked up a Valentine's Day gift for Mrs. Fine-Burger and needed a quick bite, and the friendly Cajun Big Easy counter guy called out, "Hey, you like chicken! Try a free sample!"

Why, yes, sir, as a matter of fact, I do like chicken. And the little morsel he handed me on a toothpick was promisingly good. So I ordered a bourbon chicken platter with rice, sweet corn, and mashed potatoes, and a big Coke to wash it down, and found a seat at a counter facing the Cajun Big Easy storefront. I was intrigued by Mr. Big Easy's sales pitch and wanted to see how many of my fellow mall patrons would be drawn in. It's easy to ignore a hollering perfume-counter lady or a cellphone-kiosk guy, but who's going to refuse free chicken?

As I watched, I took my first forkful of chicken and rice. Mild and sweet with a hint of garlic. Not bad. Then I took my second forkful, which turned out to be nothing but chicken fat and gristle. Oops. Should have been watching my plate instead of watching the chicken salesman. My instinct was to spit the whole fowl mess back onto my plate, but my mother raised me not to be uncouth in a public dining area, so I chewed it as best I could and gulped it down.

I warily examined the pile of chicken and rice and found that about one-third of the meat was inedible. After I scooped that portion off to the side, I was able to complete the meal, though any pleasure I might have derived from it was long gone. Which is a shame, because the remaining chicken was tasty, or would have been if I hadn't been fighting nausea induced by swallowing parts of a chicken that were never meant to be eaten.

The sweet corn and mashed potatoes were unremarkable. If you'd just had your appendix out and a hospital staffer brought you Cajun Big Easy sweet corn and mashed potatoes, you'd consider them very good.

All in all, not the best way I've ever spent $7.62. Next time I'm hungry at Tuttle, I'll avoid the Big Queasy. Instead of free chicken, perhaps they should give out free Mylanta.

Bewley's Breakfast Buffet (Dublin, Ireland)

"Make sure you have the Irish breakfast," said more than one person who found out I was headed to Ireland. Well they were all wrong. This blog is about greasy food in the Dublin, Ohio area. But given that I was able to sample greasy food in Dublin, Ireland, I thought it important and relevant to our readership.

The breakfast buffet at my hotel was not a continental breakfast. It was in an actual restaurant and was fairly high-end, costing about $16. It just wasn't any good. Apparently the Irish don't do waffles, pancakes, or French toast, which is fine as I'm a bacon-and-eggs guy myself. They also don't do much in the way of fruit. I can't recall ever complaining about every item in a buffet, so this will likely sound whiney, but it's well-deserved. We might as well go by section:

Bread
Scones, soda-bread, and sliced white and wheat breads were available. I enjoyed the scones with a bit of strawberry jam, and the soda bread wasn't bad. The white bread was big and fairly tasteless (probably not as sugary as ours) and not particularly edible for me without jam or an egg on top (more on eggs later). Bread was the best part of the menu.

Meat and Potatoes
The meat and potato station contained bacon, sausage, eggs, and strange stuff like whole mushrooms. I tried the scrambled eggs despite the fact that they were sitting in water. They'd have been edible were they not incredibly salty. The bacon and sausage were what I was looking forward to, but the bacon was quite unlike ours. Looked more like Canadian bacon and very fatty. Not terribly tasty either. The sausage looked like regular links, but were a bit lighter in color than what we typically get. Now, I know that we don't want to know what goes into sausage. I recognize that a lot of nasty stuff goes in there. But there's a pact between us and the sausage-makers. We don't ask how they make it, and they make it taste good. The Irish have no such agreement, however. I think I got a sausage filled with butt. I know some use natural casings. I don't think mine was ever cleaned out in the first place. It tasted like the original filling.

Fortunately, they did offer fried eggs, cooked to order, which proved to be my salvation. Fried egg, on toast, with a shot of fresh-squeezed orange juice (not bad) and some awful coffee became my repertoire. Each day I added something else to try. Something never included the next day.

Fruit
I'm not really sure what some of this stuff was. There was a bowl of apricots in syrup, and another bowl of fruit salad, again in heavy syrup. Finally, there was a bowl of a completely unidentifiable red fruit (in heavy syrup). I tried only the fruit salad, which was too syrupy to eat much of.

Cereal
This should have been safe. The cereal table held half a dozen large open bowls of cereal, including corn flakes, rice krispies, and various other healthy-looking varieties. However, the milk sat out in pitchers, and was just about room temperature by the time it hit my bowl.

Overall, breakfast was an exasperating experience: food, food all around, but nary a bite to eat. I should note that while I didn't particularly enjoy "traditional Irish" fare while I was there... nobody actually eats that stuff anyway. There is good food in Dublin, but you've got to look for it.

McDonald's (Tuttle Crossing)

Folks, the reigning Arches champion in the Dublin, Ohio area is still the 161 and Frantz location. However, I do believe the Tuttle Crossing franchise could give it a run for its money. I visit this one often as it's closer to work and the food is always pretty decent.

In the fairly recent past, I would regularly hit the drive-thru for an artery-clogging two double cheeseburgers (that's four patties) and a medium fry for a bargain $3. But I never exactly felt light on my feet after eating such fare, so I've decided to dial it back a bit. Yesterday I went with what is fast becoming my favorite meal: the #10 Crispy Chicken meal.

I'm not sure when the Crispy Chicken Sandwich got "revamped" to use marketing speak, but it's a quality mid-day treat. Past whole-breast chicken sandwiches always had an inordinate amount of gristle. However, none could be found on my Tuesday sandwich (or the previous example I had last week at the go-to location). This sandwich is quite tender, with a lightly-spiced crispy outer layer that seals in the juices nicely. It sits upon a premium honey-wheat roll, adorned with lettuce, tomato, and a generous dollup of mayo: exactly what I like in (on) a sandwich.

So the sandwich was top-flight, but I couldn't give the restaurant four stars because the fries were lukewarm. Now this is not usually a problem with this location, but I've got an obligation to our lard-loving readership to tell it like it is, and the fries weren't all that.

Otherwise, Tuttle is a nice location. The seating area seems small, but it's creatively configured to hold more people than you'd think, with plenty of nooks and crannies to give a little more privacy than the airplane-hangar arrangement common to most fast-food places. The two TVs in the joint were tuned to a daytime soap rather than the typical ESPN or CNN, which I thought strange, but not so much as to make me lose my mind and start eating at TGI Fridays or something.

You'll do well to avoid the drive-thru at peak hours, as I swear it starts to form a spiral around the building. I guess the mall shoppers are the laziest folks around, because there's never more than a few people in line if you actually walk inside. "I can wait here all day, so long as I don't have to get out of my bucket seat. And I'll take the salad... watching my figure"

Kentucky Fried Chicken (Mill Run)

There's a whole class of American businesspeople today who seem to make a great living going from company to company implementing bad ideas. Take Kentucky Fried Chicken, for example. Once upon a time, they had a well-known brand name and a famous founder, Harland Sanders, who served as their corporate symbol. For millions of Americans, the white-haired guy in the Matlock suit with the string tie symbolized tasty chicken at a reasonable price. There are folks out there who salivate like Pavlov's dog at the mere sight of the Colonel. Take my aunt Mary — please.

Faced with stagnant sales, the suits decided to ax the Colonel and drop the well-known "Kentucky Fried Chicken" name for the acronym "KFC." Great move, guys. I'm sure the problem wasn't related to customer service or food quality. It had to be that "provincial" name and "out of touch" senior-citizen corporate symbol. When the changes didn't send sales skyrocketing, the marketing folks brought back a pseudo-hip cartoon version of Harland Sanders who danced around his cane in TV ads chanting "Go Colonel! Go Colonel!" Another big swing and a miss.

About a year and a half ago, the corporation decided that maybe replacing a tried-and-true name and beloved cultural icon hadn't been such a great idea after all. So they brought back the Colonel and the name "Kentucky Fried Chicken," and to announce this, they built an 87,000-sq-ft likeness of Harland Sanders in the Nevada desert, large enough to be seen from space:
http://www.kfc.com/about/pressreleases/111406.asp

Here's a thought. What if the company had taken all the money that was spent on rebranding the stores from "Kentucky Fried Chicken" to "KFC" and back, and all the money that was spent on salaries and consulting fees for the marketing gurus behind switching and unswitching names, and all the money that was spent on the giant Colonel in the desert, and spent it instead on staffing and food in the restaurants? Maybe the resulting improvements in customer service and food quality would have provided the desired bump in sales.

I know what you're thinking: old Caspar has way too much time on his hands. And you're right. I plenty of time to stand around and ponder fast-food marketing strategy while I was waiting for the folks at the Mill Run KFC to feed me lunch.

It started when I had a hankering for a Max & Erma's buffalo chicken sandwich, but didn't want to spend $13 (with tip and drink). Maybe the Colonel could satisfy my craving and still give me plenty of change back from a ten-dollar bill.

Things looked good when I walked into the restaurant - there was just one customer ahead of me. He ordered a bucket of chicken and a couple of side dishes. Somehow it took a full five minutes for the cashier to prepare this simple order, during which time several more diners came in and lined up behind me.

The drive-thru girl had no customers, so she came to the counter and took my order. "What a nice touch," I thought. I ordered the Buffalo Stackers meal (two small Buffalo chicken sandwiches, potato wedges, and a drink) with a side of cole slaw, for about $6. She then made my sandwiches, put them in a bag, and forgot about me.

The cashier finally assembled the bucket of chicken and sides for the first customer, then took the next customer's order. This time she completed the order in about four minutes, then noticed me standing there and asked if I had been helped. I explained the situation, which resulted in a huddled conference between the cashier and the drive-thru girl, who still hadn't had to serve a drive-thru customer. A few minutes later, I had my meal, along with some complimentary little chocolate pudding cup for my trouble. As I took my seat, I noticed there were now seven or eight hungry customers in line. I suspected the last guy in line would give up and leave before he was fed.

The food, once I got it, wasn't bad. The Stacker sandwich consists of a chicken strip on a mini-sub bun, slathered in your choice of sauce. The Buffalo sauce was surprisingly good and the chicken was lean - a reasonable facsimile of a Max & Erma's sandwich after all, on a miniature scale. Both my sandwiches came with piles of lettuce outside the not-quite-fresh bun. KFC Stacker: some assembly required. The potato wedges were crisp on the outside, soft on the inside, and well-seasoned. The cole slaw was unremarkable, but wasn't bitter or warm (the cardinal sins of slaw). I wasn't hungry for the "consolation" chocolate pudding, but ate it anyway out of a sense of obligation. After all, nothing mitigates an unreasonable wait like free dessert.

So there's really nothing wrong with the Mill Run KFC that hiring an extra staffer couldn't fix. I'm guessing better service would stimulate sales of fast-food chicken better than rebranding the stores or building gigantic images of the Colonel in remote locations. I did notice a sign on the wall in official corporate KFC colors and typefaces that said "WANTED: CUSTOMER MANIACS!" Do they really need maniacs staffing the stores - or just sufficient quantities of people of average intelligence? Something tells me the wrong-headed thinking at KFC isn't going away anytime soon.

Burger King (6400 Sawmill Road at 161)

Folks, I just came from the Burger King at Sawmill and 161, where I ate the best BK double cheeseburger I've ever eaten. And I've been eating BK double cheeseburgers a long, long time. Why, when I first ate a BK double cheeseburger, I had to ride a BMX bicycle four miles in the snow, uphill, both ways, just to get there.

OK, that's an exaggeration. When it snowed back then, I walked to BK. The point is, I know BK double cheeseburgers the way Lloyd Bentsen knew JFK, and believe me, this was an excellent double cheeseburger.

This was supposed to be a negative review. I had to run an errand in the Sawmill/161 area and I needed a quick lunch. There's a BK there where I remember getting substandard service some time ago, and I've been writing a lot of positive restaurant reviews lately. So here was a golden opportunity to write something humorously scathing, and all it would cost me is a few bucks and a little indigestion.

There was no indication I was in for such a treat when I walked into the restaurant. There was a sizable line of customers at noon, mostly blue-collar guys and moms with little ones. This BK has an indoor playground, thankfully separated from the main dining area by a nearly-soundproof glass wall.

The line moved quickly. I ordered a double cheeseburger, onion rings, and a Coke. This combo was not listed on the value menu, but the cashier rang up a combo price of $3.19. Quite a bargain.

And then I sat down, unwrapped the burger, and bit in. BK makes a big deal of their burgers being broiled and not fried, and this one tasted like it had just come off the backyard charcoal grill. Plenty of ketchup and mustard. Fresh pickles. Soft, fresh bun. The taste of mid-summer, in the dead of winter.

Now, maybe the burger was fresher than usual because BK is running commercials featuring the double cheeseburger for a buck, and everyone's ordering it. Maybe the manager runs a tight ship and the broiler is kept cleaner than most. Or maybe the anonymous fry cook (excuse me: broil cook) in the back takes an unusual amount of pride in his job. Whatever the reason, this burger was beyond good. If I had paid $8 for it at some trendy new bar and grill, I wouldn't have felt ripped off.

Given the quality of the burger and the bargain price, I really wanted to present this BK with the coveted Dublin Grease Guide Five-Spot Award. But I can't, for the following reasons:

* Two tables were too filthy to use. One was covered with spilled salt and a cardboard BK crown; the other contained some departed diner's tray and lunch trash. The BK staff probably couldn't spare a crew member to wipe tables at the height of the lunch rush, so chalk this one up to the dirtbaggery of the general public.

* One of the two drink stations was completely inoperative.

* My onion rings weren't quite hot. On the other hand, they were crispy and completely cooked, thank goodness. (Ever eaten soggy, semi-cooked BK onion rings? I have, and I never will again. Not only do they taste awful, they turn your insides into a state-of-the-art chemical warfare production facility.)

So in conclusion, I'm left with the question: does the BK at Sawmill and 161 always serve burgers this tasty, or was this was an outstanding performance from a normally mediocre shop? Are they the Muhammad Ali of broiled burgers, or merely Buster Douglas having a single moment of glory? Only repeat visits will tell. I'll go back in a month or so and write a follow-up.

UPDATE, 2/14/08: I took Cap Jr. to the Sawmill & 161 BK last Saturday so he could enjoy the indoor playground. He reports that his hamburger and fries were excellent. I tried the Tendercrisp Chicken Sandwich and found it a little disappointing. The chicken was tasty, but the bun was going stale and the tomatoes were tasteless. I'm not going to change the 4-spot rating - after all, chicken isn't Burger King's specialty. Stick to burgers and you'll have a good meal here. And if you're under 46 inches tall, enjoy the playground as well.

Lido's Buffet (Carriage Place - Bethel & Sawmill)

The road to the all-you-can-eat pizza buffet is paved with good intentions.

In an effort to make amends for all the greasy lunches I normally eat, I packed a Healthy Choice frozen dinner last week. Ostensibly, the meal contained beef tips in barbecue sauce, but it tasted more like styrofoam cubes smothered in brown ketchup. Not only was the meal lousy, but I was hungry again 90 minutes later. This experience reinforced my belief that no man should eat anything with the word "Healthy" on the box.

I made amends the next day by visiting an old favorite - Lido's Buffet in Carriage Place. Lido's has been in that location for at least fifteen years, serving up good pizza and fresh salads. There are usually other entrees as well, such as wings, popcorn shrimp, stromboli, or pasta, and good homemade soup.

Lido missed the boat that day, he left the shack
But that was all he missed, he ain't comin' back...

Remember Boz Scaggs' "Lido Shuffle"? No? Then you're quite a bit younger than I am.

I invited a coworker who's a fan of Cici's Pizza. Cici's provides good service and a variety of pies at a bargain price, but to me, their crust always tastes like high school cafeteria pizza. I didn't like high school cafeteria pizza even when I was in high school, so I hoped the extra driving distance to Lido's would pay off.

Lido's didn't let me down. The restaurant looks the same as it always has - dark-green carpet, burgundy wallpaper, and as many booths and tables as they can cram into a strip-mall restaurant. And they need as many seats as they can get, because even on a Wednesday, the place was packed with customers by noon.

We passed through the buffet from right to left, and here's what we found:

* Fresh salad greens (mostly iceberg lettuce) with a variety of toppings and dressings
* Three kinds of pizza: one pepperoni, one pep and sausage, one veggie "half and half" with green peppers and onions on one half and diced tomatoes and onions on the other
* Italian wedding soup
* Chicken wings
* A penne pasta dish with diced chicken in a cheesy white sauce

Lido's pizza offers a well-baked crust of medium thickness and plenty of cheese - a good delivery-quality pie. And it's always fresh, because the crowd depletes the pizza station so fast that the cooks can barely keep up. Somehow they do - about the time the station was down to its last slice, a cook brought fresh pie from the kitchen.

The salad was unremarkable, but all the ingredients were fresh. And isn't that all that's important, given the strictly supporting role salad plays at a pizza buffet?

The penne pasta dish was a pleasant surprise - a little lukewarm, but very tasty. I ate so much of it I didn't have room to try the soup.

My coworker reports that the wings were "much better than BW-3." I've had good wings and lousy wings at BW-3, so take his comment with a grain of salt and a Wet-Nap.

The soda glasses are huge - a nice touch, given that some buffets give you a Dixie cup of Pepsi and look askance at you when you expect three refills. No refills necessary at Lido's, unless sixty ounces of high-fructose corn syrup isn't enough for you.

So why four grease spots instead of five? Two reasons. First, our server never brought us silverware or napkins, which we sourced from the buffet. Other diners were provided with a fork and knife wrapped in a napkin. Like Joe Pesci in GoodFellas, I hate being on the "pay no mind" list. Second, with drink and tip, the price is dangerously close to $10/person. Lido's once encouraged regulars to return by providing "$1 off" coupons, good for your next visit. Apparently they've stopped that - unless our coupons were off someplace with our silverware.

Lido be runnin' havin' great big fun
'Til he got the note...

This is the end of an era for me, because for years, I've never been without a Lido's coupon in my wallet. The food's still good, so I'll go back to Lido's - but probably not as often as I once did. Enjoy the buffet, but don't expect much change back from a ten-dollar bill.

Rally's (4799 Sawmill Road)

If you've lived in Columbus long enough, you've seen a lot of fast-food chains come and go, such as Burger Chef, G.D. Ritzy's, Rax, Sister's, Zantigo, and Big Bite. Most of these failed because they offered a redundant or inferior product to the industry leaders, often at a premium price. Others seemed like sure-fire hits (remember G.D. Ritzy's shoestring fries and ice-cream bar?), but failed anyway.

And some chains, like MacArthur's old soldiers, never die - they just fade away. Rally's once operated many restaurants in the Columbus suburbs with diner-like red vinyl booths and black formica tables. They now offer only drive-thru service, and the only remaining locations seem to be scattered through the inner city and the far West Side. Rally's provided good burgers at reasonable prices, and their battered fries were a unique menu item. Why didn't they succeed?

A quick Google search reveals there's still a Rally's at Bethel and Sawmill. Perhaps a visit will help solve this mystery.

The Sawmill Rally's is a little white hut with drive-thrus on both sides of the building and a couple of picnic tables out front, should anyone should want to enjoy the 20-degree temperatures. The double drive-thru would be a nice time-saving touch if I had a passenger who cared to place the order for me. I'm dining solo mio today, so I take the right-hand line. The wait wasn't an issue anyway - at noon, there were only two cars ahead of me. I imagine being served yesterday's burger on a stale bun due to slow sales and wonder if I've made a mistake.

Things began to look up when I pulled up to the speaker. A sweet, sultry female voice greeted me with "Welcome to Rally's, would you like to try a double deal today?" It's always a good sign when the drive-thru cashier has a good attitude and doesn't mumble. It's a bonus if she sounds as if she might look like Beyonce Knowles or Pam Grier. I quickly scanned the menu. The Rally-Q was my old favorite from college days: a Sloppy-Joe-like sandwich of crumbled beef slathered in mild barbecue sauce, sold for 79 cents. It's gone now, but the Rallyburger and Big Buford are still available, along with new (to me) items including fish and chicken sandwiches and hot dogs. I ordered a small-sized Rallyburger combo meal.

I pulled forward to find that while the cashier didn't look like Beyonce, she did have a kind smile and a pleasant, professional demeanor not often found in fast-food service. She quickly made my change (total bill: under $4!), handed me my bag full of greasy goodness, and sent me on my way. Now - where to eat? I remembered that Griggs Reservoir Park runs the length of Riverside Drive from Hayden Run to Fishinger, with scenic overlooks of the Scioto River - as scenic as Ohio in January gets.

I find a nice spot along the east bank of the Scioto. In the summer, there are ducks, geese, joggers, dog-walkers, and picnickers. On this frigid day, there's just me, eating in the car. I decide to start with the fries. Rally's fries are battered to a light crisp and seasoned with lots of pepper. These were hot and tasty, just as I remembered them, with a flavor unlike the fries at any other quick-service restaurant. So far, so good.

Time to move on to the burger, which is wrapped in foil rather than paper to better hold the heat - a crucial concern for a drive-thru-only establishment. Sure enough, my burger was still nice and hot. The bun was fresh, though mashed a bit; the patty was flavorful, but a little too greasy. Toppings included cheese, lettuce (a little limp), tomato (fresh, but flavorless), red onions (crisp and strong), ketchup and mayo (plentiful - again, crucial for a restaurant that has no condiment bar). The Coke was a little flat, but not undrinkably so.

In summary, the Sawmill Rally's provided a good (though not great) meal at a very reasonable price with excellent service. If my experience is representative of the chain as a whole, then I remain stumped as to why the suburban eat-in Rally's locations failed. Maybe the Rally-Q was the karmic keystone holding the Rally's chain together, and pulling it from the menu started the long, slow decline.

McDonald's, Perimeter Loop

6830 Perimeter Loop Rd
Dublin 43017



Seriously, there's a McDonald's off Avery Road. Caspar and I had time for a quick, greasy lunch today, and Arches is always on the short list of stops. Given that I've already reviewed our favorite McHaunt, we thought we'd try another location -- for your sake. I suggested Tuttle, and Caspar noted there was one in the Perimeter area. I told him he was daft, that there's a Wendy's and a BK, but surely no Arches -- how could I have missed it all these years?

Well it is indeed there, we dined there, and here are some observations. First, I've missed it all these years because the big golden M in the red field is not allowed to exist in this part of Dublin. All signage is brown and small, including signs to get back on the freeway (it's close to Muirfield, meaning rich golfers and golfer wannabe's don't like to know where they're going). So lost in a sea of brown and brick was a McDonald's situated in the Giant Eagle shopping plaza.

Once you've sighted it, getting there is still another challenge when going north on Avery -- you make a right into the shopping plaza and then need to make an immediate left, cutting across traffic turning into the plaza from the southbound lanes. Messy, but no great obstacle if great grease is to be had. Unfortunately, the dining experience left much to be desired.

The place is the Toyota RAV-4 of McDonald's franchises: too damn small to be useful. I ordered my Big Mac meal (I always go with that at a new franchise to test their version of the flagship product) and turned to grab a seat... and found there were none. The restaurant has an odd L-shape, and I wandered around the corner and that side was packed too. No seats. At 11:40. It seemed to have the same amount of capacity as your average Subway strip mall franchise. What the hell do you do at a fast-food restaurant standing there with your tray when you have no place to sit? I was heading over the counter to get a bag when eagle-eyed Caspar spied a hidden (unwiped) bar-height table by itself between a wall and the vestibule. Fortunately the folks coming in behind us all ordered to-go. Perhaps they knew the drill.

Caspar's shorter stature was an obvious hindrance at this location. The drink lids are located unconventionally above the drink dispenser, which is easily missed if your eye-level is lower. Also, the bar-height table and stools were ill-equipped with foot-rests. There were none on the table and the ones on the chairs were quite low, such that Caspar's feet had nowhere to perch.

"What the hell do you suppose that is?" is not one of the top questions I like to have asked of me during a meal, and we agreed to pretend to not notice whatever it was that was stuck to Caspar's tray. In general, the place had a decent decor and was fundamentally clean (no old dirt), but there were numerous places where small, new messes were not attended to. So why three grease spots instead of two?

Because it's all about the food. And the food was pretty good. The Big Mac was a very good specimen of its kind: fresh bun, served hot, sauce evenly applied, and juicy patties. The fries were typical Arches, which is to say quite good. We were served quickly by friendly staff, and as we exited, one of the cashiers yelled out to us to have a good day (mind you we had not made eye contact such that she'd feel compelled to say anything, she just called after us). Nice touch.

If you get friendly service and a good hot meal, the rest becomes less important. I don't think it can replace our staple location on 161, but it'll do in a pinch.

ADDENDUM: This does not typically concern us, but it's worth noting that all three aforementioned McDonald's locations (Tuttle Crossing, 161(Bridge St), and Avery/Perimeter have Wi-Fi access.

Arby's (5864 Sawmill Road)

"A Tale of Two Arby's"
It was the best of meals, it was the worst of meals...

Last week, my wife surprised me by calling to ask if I'd be interested in meeting her for lunch. The only catch was that we had to eat at Arby's, the favorite restaurant of my four-year-old son, Cap Jr. I had my reservations, given the bad experience I'd had at the Hilliard-Cemetery Arby's, but I agreed.

We met at the Arby's on Sawmill Road near Home Depot at noon. The line was fairly long, but the cashiers were quick, friendly, and efficient. That's right, cashiers - this restaurant had two registers open to better handle the lunch rush. The Sawmill Arby's also has duplicate soda fountains and condiment stations. Mountain Dew and Horsey Sauce, no waiting.

The dining area was the nicest I've seen in any fast-food restaurant. Dark hardwoods, tasteful carpeting, green plants everywhere, a glass-ceilinged atrium in the center of the restaurant, and convincing faux-leather booths. Many full-service chain restaurants aren't this well furnished. Quite a difference from the Hilliard-Cemetery location.

For fast fare, the food was first-rate. I ordered the philly-beef toasted sub, which features Arby's roast beef on a toasted ciabatta roll, roasted onions, crisp bell peppers, and garlic mayonnaise. Delicious. I also had Arby's signature side - potato cakes. Depending on where you get them, these hash-brown-like triangular cakes of shredded potatoes can be underdone and chewy, or overdone and bitterly crunchy. Like Goldilocks' bed, these potato cakes were just right.

The lovely, health-conscious Mrs. Fine-Burger had a Martha's Vineyard salad: grape tomatoes, diced apples, dried cranberries, and shredded cheese on a bed of lettuce. Unlike many fast-food salads, this one contained romaine lettuce as well as iceberg lettuce, and there were no wilted brown spots to be seen. The Martha's Vineyard salad also contained slices of chicken (probably from Arby's chicken filet sandwich). Mrs. F-B reports that the chicken was well-cooked and lean, which is crucial to a good salad. After all, nothing ruins the illusion of healthy eating like biting into a chewy, gelatinous piece of chicken fat.

Cap Jr. had the Arby's Kid's Meal: a junior roast-beef sandwich, curly fries, and a juice box. Cap's meal looked as tasty and well-prepared as mine. He was happy with the food, but disappointed that the "surprise" was two plastic Arby's cowboy-hat logos that could be linked together. Not much fun. A critic has to say something negative about any restaurant. When you're reduced to criticizing the toy in the kid's meal, you know you've had a good fast-food dining experience.

The check was under $16. That's a little high for a fast-food meal for three, but well worth it considering the quality of the meal. If the economy truly turns Dickensian, you might consider saving a few bucks by forgoing the sit-down chain restaurants and taking the family to the Sawmill Arby's.

Chipotle (Perimeter Loop)

I got a brief glimpse today of what life will be like when I'm an old man. I'll be moving at what I think is a brisk pace, while the rude and frantic world hustles and shouts in a maelstrom all around me. What's that? I couldn't hear you. Lean closer, I don't want to shout. Hold your horses. I'm moving as fast as I can.

No, I didn't travel forty years into my own future, but I did visit the Chipotle in the Giant Eagle shopping center at Perimeter Loop. I was having an unusually productive day at work and didn't want to waste a great deal of time feeding my face. A burrito to go - that's the answer.

When I arrived just past noon, the line nearly reached the door. That's understandable. Chipotle is tasty and cheap - of course they're going to attract a lot of customers. But do they all have to shout - into cell phones, across the restaurant, at a friend standing two feet away? And does every surface in the restaurant have to be stainless steel, hardwood, or concrete, so the noise level is amplified? Tom Brady couldn't call a play in there without a bullhorn.

When I reached the order counter, I saw the Burrito Assembly Specialist's lips move, but I couldn't hear her above the din. Fortunately every Chipotle has giant signage above the counter explaining how to order. "I'll have a fajita burrito with carnitas, please," I shouted.

Scoot right to another Burrito Assembly Specialist, who didn't bother to speak, but merely looked at me expectantly. Time to shout more instructions. "Corn salsa, please. Sour cream. Cheese. Lettuce. No guacamole, thanks." The girl to my left keeps bumping me. Does she think that'll make this process go faster? Maybe she thinks I'm a hottie. Yeah, I'm sure that's it.

Then down to the cashier, who tried to charge me something like $15. Apparently she thought I'd like to pick up the tab for Bumpty Girl. "I'm just buying just that burrito, to go," I shouted, pointing at my lunch. She made a Simon Cowell face, then re-rang the purchase for just under $6. That's more like it. I bought 35 cents worth of karma by dropping my change in the now-ubiquitous "TIPS" can, jostled my way past the ten or twelve people standing around by the soda fountain and condiment stand, and made my way back to the car, muttering under my breath, the January air freezing the frown on my face.

And then I got back to work, sat down, peeled the foil from my still-hot burrito, and took a bite. Ahh. Taste buds awakening...heart rate slowing...anger subsiding. Chipotle is simply in a class of its own when it comes to fast-food quality. That soft, warm tortilla. That fresh rice, with a hint of lime. The lean, well-seasoned pork. Green peppers that snap when you bite into them. The sweet and mildly spicy corn salsa. Fantastic. Halfway through, I noticed they forgot the lettuce, but I didn't care. The portion size is so big, any normal person should really throw away the final six bites, but I thought of the starving children in Africa and finished the whole thing.

Fantastic taste for under $6. Forty minutes from the time I left my desk to the time I returned to work. Isn't that exactly what this blog is all about? If you have a high tolerance for noise and hassle, you can expect a great meal for chump change at the Perimeter Loop Chipotle. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to lie down, take some Doan's Pills, and watch some Andy Griffith.

Burger King (Mill Run)

If you care enough about cheap, greasy food to read this blog, you know that all franchise restaurants are not created equal. When I was a senior at Ohio State, I lived in Westerville and worked an internship in Hilliard, and was thus a regular customer at three Burger King restaurants: North Campus, Sunbury Road, and Mill Run. There was such a vast difference in quality among these three stores that I wondered how they could be part of the same chain.

Mill Run could always be relied upon to provide good service and tasty food. Sunbury Road was lousy, but it was so convenient to my home that I kept trying it in hopes that it would improve. North Campus was hit-and-miss. Eventually I stopped visiting North Campus and Sunbury Road entirely. The quality of the food at Mill Run was so much better that, if I had a craving for a Whopper (insert off-color joke here), I'd wait for my next scheduled work day in Hilliard rather than pay for a substandard meal.

Today I had to run from Dublin to West Broad for some parts to repair my clothes dryer. Returning on 270, with an empty belly and pressed for time, I remembered that my old favorite BK was just half a mile from the Hilliard-Cemetery exit. Could Mill Run still deliver the goods after all these years?

The full parking lot was certainly encouraging. I grabbed the last available space, my little American econosedan lost in a sea of full-size pickups and white cargo vans. For some reason, BK seems to attract a blue-collar clientele, while Wendy's appeals more to the Office Space crowd. I waited in line behind two guys in Dickies gear debating the merits of the Dodge truck with the Cummins turbodiesel engine versus the Ford with the Powerstroke. If I needed a vehicle that could tow 20,000 lbs - which I don't - I'd go for the Chevy with the Duramax. (After all, this is ouuuuuuuur count-reeeee.) Given that both men used good English and had complete sets of teeth, I could probably have voiced my support for the Chevy without being punched in the face - but why take the chance?

The counter girl spoke just enough English to take my order properly and make the correct change. What more can you ask, really? I ordered a Whopper combo with cheese and headed for the soda station - a dual soda station, actually, which is a nice touch. Nobody likes to stand there holding a full tray of food, waiting for some soccer mom to fill up four kid-sized cups of Hi-C. The decor is definitely old-school BK - hard-formed fiberglass booths with tables supported by a single center post cemented in place. The place was clean, though, and after all, we're talking about Burger King, not Cameron's Steakhouse. Time to sit down and eat.

Now any ol' BK can provide hot flame-broiled patties; what makes or breaks a Whopper is the quality of the toppings and freshness of the bun. The lettuce was crisp, the tomatoes ripe, the onions flavorful without being bitter, the bun was soft and warm, and ketchup and mayo were distributed nicely. On the whole, a fine example of BK's signature sandwich.

The fries were hot and fresh, though they had a slightly fishy taste. Maybe Mill Run uses the same vat to fry the Big Fish filets that they use for french fries? Maybe they're trying out some new trans-fat-free oil? Whatever the reason, if you like the Big Fish sandwich, you'll like the fries, and if you don't, you won't.

Fifteen minutes later, I was back in the car and on my way. The good old Burger King at Mill Run gave me exactly what I needed: a hot, tasty meal, served quickly, for less than $5. No wonder it seems to be the favorite of Hilliard's contractors and construction workers. God bless the things in this world that don't change.

As for the Sunbury Road BK? Apparently I wasn't the only one who swore off eating there. It was torn down a few years ago and replaced by a fairly good Arby's.

E Chen's (Karric Square/Frantz Road)

The thought occurred to me, as I was enjoying my second plate of Asian lardy goodness at E Chen's, that food is the only substance nearly everyone abuses. We look down our noses at crack addicts and dumpster-diving winos, but we all like to gorge ourselves at lunch from time to time, especially if we've had a bad day.

And I'd had the kind of morning at work that would drive a man to go drink until he pukes up his pancreas, or smoke green plants until Kid Rock lyrics sound profound. Except that a responsible head-of-household is supposed to be beyond that sort of thing...ahem. So I decided to escape the blues by visiting E Chen's all-you-can-eat Asian buffet in Karric Square. At least I called a friend to join me. They say if you gorge alone, it's an indication that you have a problem.

I've worked in Dublin since 2005, and I have found no better Asian buffet in the Northwest area than E Chen's. The staff is friendly and efficient. The restaurant is clean, well-decorated, and large, and by request, you can be seated in a back room where ESPN is shown on two giant projection televisions.

The buffet consists of four large serving stations under a sky-blue painted ceiling. It gleams like a leprechaun's pot of gold, or Chad Johnson's grille. The stations are thoughtfully spaced, so there's plenty of room to serve yourself without jostling and bumping other patrons, even at the height of lunch hour. Which is a crucial consideration, given the ample dimensions of many buffet regulars.

As for the food:
* The hot and sour soup was hot. Sour, too.
* The spring rolls were terrific.
* The General Tso's chicken was lean and fresh. Some buffets use such fatty chicken that you suspect them of battering globs of chicken fat and passing them off - not E Chen's. General Tso wouldn't stand for that, and neither should you.
* The Mala string beans were also fresh - bright green and resilient to the touch, not the sad, wrinkly, dark-green leftovers I've had elsewhere. I chose them mainly to kid myself that I was eating healthy.
* I'm sorry I didn't note the official name of the pulled-pork-and-onions dish, but it's always available, and it's my favorite. Lean pork in a sweet and slightly spicy brown sauce with fresh onions. Great stuff.
* There's a combo dish of chopped link sausage, peppers, and onions that was also very good. Onions are a great defense mechanism against demanding coworkers.
* There was pizza, but I didn't try it, just as I wouldn't try Kung Pao if they served it at Pizza Hut.
* There was sushi, but I'm an uncultured Midwesterner who can't bring himself to eat raw fish. I also have a shellfish allergy that causes me to, well, die. My dining buddy said the sushi was excellent.
* There were tasty-looking brownies and cakes and soft-serve ice cream for dessert, but after two plates of entrees and a bowl of soup, I couldn't eat another bite. I was lucky I could move without the aid of a Hoveround.
* The staff did a fine job of replenishing the serving trays. I never saw one less than 1/4 full.

Even with a $2 tip, the check was under $9. A little more than I like to spend at lunch, but I knew no simple sandwich could bring me out of my work-induced doldrums like E Chen's - a virtual opium den of Asian culinary goodness in unlimited quantities.