Off the Map: Everything Really Is Bigger in Texas

Fried Chicken -- Babe's Chicken Dinner House, Burleson, TX

Babe's Chicken Dinner House

Whoever coined the term about everything being bigger in Texas clearly did so while dining at Babe's Chicken Dinner House.

Maybe This Is Texas's Ploy to Keep Us from Leaving

Vodka and her college roommates, Diet Coke and Whiskey Sour, are at the Burleson location to sample Melissa D'Arabian's chosen FRIED CHICKEN favorite from Best Thing I Ever Ate.

"Comfortable" Seating Options

Only when we arrive at 4:30pm, expecting a quick munch on a chicken leg before heading back to the stables of the Fort Worth stockyards, we find a crowd gathered outside for a 20-minute wait.

Could You Move This Along? We Have a Rodeo to Get To

Settling atop some wagon wheels, we watch customer after customer emerge from the joint clutching a single, transparent plastic bag.

We've Seen Many To-Go Containers in Our Lives, but Never Anything Quite Like This

"What are they all carrying?" Whiskey Sour asks.

"Chicken?" Vodka guesses, perplexed by not only the proliferation of leftovers, but also by their chosen receptacle.

But As We Will Soon Learn, These Bags Are Not the Most Perplexing Aspect Of Babe's Chicken House

However, within mere moments of being led to our table inside the Epcot-like decor of Babe's, the reason behind such doggie bags becomes clear: we are about to be drowned in food.

A Whole Restaurant Full of Excessive Chicken Eaters

Our waitress explains that our table is about to be laden down with salad, biscuits, corn, green beans, mashed potatoes, and gravy, along with our desired meat: fried chicken, chicken fingers, smoked chicken, or chicken-fried steak.

In Other Words, We're Never Getting Out of Here

Vodka chooses the fried chicken, believing she is speaking for the entire table, since all of the dishes are to be served family-style.

Plus, This Would Certainly Fill All Three of Us, No?

"You all want fried chicken?" the waitress asks.

Hold up -- we EACH choose our own meat?! Please just bring us the to-go Ziplocs now.

Or We Can All Eat Our Own Half Chicken.... That Works, Too

Chicken Fingers? More Like Chicken Hands

Vodka sticks with the fried chicken, while Diet Coke goes for the smoked chicken, and Whiskey Sour, the chicken fingers.

Pace Yourselves, Everyone

And before the waitress has so much as walked away, a heaping bowl of salad and plate of biscuits gets placed before us.

Olive Garden, Southern Edition

The salad is surprisingly flavorful, being that it resembles little more than romaine tossed in dressing. And the biscuits are some of the lightest and fluffiest we have ever encountered.

In Other Words, We Polished Them Off in Five Minutes Flat

Not to be outdone, we are soon graced with our own chickens in various forms of preparation, and we barely even know where to begin.

And This Was Only Round One

While she has no desire to actually prove this theory, Vodka believes that of all the Best Thing I Ever Ate episodes, she has sampled the most dishes from the FRIED CHICKEN one, and Babe's variety is one of the best.

Though to Be Fair, It's Hard to Find a Fried Chicken We Won't Enjoy

Incredibly crispy on the outside and moist and juicy on the inside, it is the ideal stereotype of how fried chicken should be executed.

And Special Shout-Out to the Mashed Potatoes

Diet Coke and Whiskey Sour find their choices to be similarly pleasant, as are the proliferation of sides, for which the waiters at Babe's keep insisting we should accept refills.

No, No, Please No More!

Indeed, a solid fifteen minutes into our meal, our only show of progress is a single bare chicken bone beside Vodka's plate, and we begin waving the white flag -- or in this case, the plastic leftover bags.

A Pitiful Display

By the time we roll out of Babe's, the crowd outside has quadrupled in size, proving that the people of Burleson seem to value chicken more than they do booze during their Saturday night dinners.

Have We Mentioned This Place Doesn't Serve Liquor, and Yet, NO VACANCY

And as our own chicken gets tucked away in our carry-on luggage, to be consumed immediately upon reentries into our homelands, Dallas hammers home the point that even upon leaving its borders, the state's vastness extends so widely that you can never quite leave Texas behind.

Babe's Chicken Dinner House's Fried Chicken: 4 stars

Off the Map: Taking Shots in Dallas

Lobster Scallion Shooters -- Abacus, Dallas, TX

Abacus

Call us crazy, Melissa D'Arabian, but if you're going to be featured on Best Thing I Ever Ate's BEST I EVER DRANK episode, you should choose an actual BEVERAGE, preferably one containing ALCOHOL.

For Reference, This Is What Alcohol Looks Like

Despite Vodka's skepticism regarding any "happy hour" preference not featuring booze, she and her college roommates, Whiskey Sour and Diet Coke, forge ahead down the empty sidewalks of Dallas until they reach Abacus, home of Melissa's favorite lobster scallion shooters.

Brave of Dallas to Incorporate Any Shooting References on Their Menus....

Taking advantage of the generous two-hour window in which one can procure half-priced drinks, we order an old-fashioned (Vodka), prosecco (Whiskey Sour), and Cabernet (Diet Coke), along with a plate of sushi from the similarly cheap bar bites menu.  

Poor Lighting and No Desire to Fix It

Due to the manic efficiency of the bartender (which is quite appreciated by the ever-impatient Vodka, especially when it comes to cocktail consumption), all of our requests are placed before us in mere minutes. 

Zooming In to Actually See What We're About to Consume

Vodka is the first to pour the sauce from the sake bottle into one of the shot glasses, which each feature a small battered lobster fritter atop a bed of scallions. 

Cheers!

The sauce itself is simultaneously sweet and tangy, and it has the distinct aura of sweet and sour soup. 

We Believe It Was Orange-Tinged, Though You'd Never Know by Out Photographic Evidence

When combined with the crunchy lobster, it does indeed prove to be a pleasing combination, enhanced by the novelty of swigging the whole concoction back like a bump of tequila.

Who's Down for Another Round?

Additionally, while the bar bites sushi was also quite scrumptious, once again, Vodka took absolutely no notes on it, so you'll just have to take our word for it. 

Instead, She Took Pictures of Diet Coke Listing the States

Here's the Sushi. Don't Ask Us What's In It

And so, Abacus receives 4 stars for successfully overcoming Vodka's predilections for automatically despising any BEST I EVER DRANK options which aren't found on the spirits menu. 

We Always Feel More Generous at Happy Hours

Though we're still calling foul on singling out a "beverage" one has to, you know, CHEW. Just saying, Melissa D'Arabian. Just saying.

Abacus's Lobster Scallion Shooters: 4 stars

Off the Map: Who Eats Calamari With a Fork?!

Calamari -- Purple Cafe and Wine Bar, Seattle, WA
Purple Cafe and Wine Bar

So after three days and seven prior restaurants, Vodka and Chianti have arrived at their final Seattle Best Thing I Ever Ate stop, still reeling from the intense amount of caffeine consumed during our morning's coffee tour and Vodka shielding her eyes from the ever-present Seattle sun (seriously, how does the girl who HATES the sun come to Seattle during the three most pleasant days in the town's existence?!  It's an injustice).

A Cloudless Ferris Wheel Ride = Unacceptable

We are at Purple Cafe to consume the favorite calamari APPETIZER of Melissa D'Arabian (who is not exactly batting a thousand on her Best Thing I Ever Ate choices...).  

No Pressure or Anything, Melissa

As Chianti mumbles about her desire to eat pho instead of calamari, we each order a glass of red, and Chianti manages to photo-bomb four pictures before Vodka succeeds in taking a somewhat acceptable shot of the glasses.

There Are 18 Other Similar Photos Featuring Snippets of Chianti's Big Head

Settling on the smoked salmon crostini (with preserved lemon, capers, and red onion) to go along with our calamari (which comes with moroccan tomato aioli), Vodka compliments Seattle's preponderance of ready-and-waiting bottled water on all of their restaurant tables.  

And Also, This Napkin Ring Is Nice. Trying to Be Generous Here....

Within moments, our salmon crostini arrive, and we are in heaven.  Thin slices of toast are topped by a solid dollop of smoked salmon, which we quickly spread into a thin layer across the bread.  

One Little, Two Little, Three Little Salmon Breads

A Smattering of Capers

In what has absolutely become the pattern of Seattle, were this the Best Thing I Ever Ate choice, it would without a doubt receive 5 stars.

Unfortunately, that title belongs to the calamari.

And Guess What? This Ain't Great

Now, calamari, Chianti and Vodka both agree, is not a dish that we tend to order.  Mostly because it is fine, if completely unremarkable, at most places.  Purple Cafe's version fits this description exactly, as the one and only distinction that this calamari has over all others is the shape.  Instead of thick rounds fried to a crispy, crumbly texture, these pieces are essentially the shape of microwavable onion rings.  Unfortunately for Purple Café, the batter is light and crisp, and we all know, based on various crab cake experiences, how Vodka feels when restaurants go light on the batter.

Here's a Hint: Such a Practice NEVER ENDS WELL

The accompanying dip is, in Chianti's words, an "experience."  Apparently, it tastes of the most intense curry imaginable, although Vodka is much less specific in discerning its flavorings than Chianti (ironic for the girl who's done nothing but eat across the country for two years).  Additionally, the whole serving size is on the sparse side (another running theme in Seattle); that or, once again, the size of the platter is just entirely too large for the calamari itself (here's a hint, Seattle dining establishments -- if you serve on small plates, your food looks bigger!).

It's Not Rocket Science!

As Chianti stabs the calamari rings with her fork (inciting a reign of judgment from Vodka as to her finger food eating practices), Vodka attempts to chew through one of the tentacle versions of the fish... and fifteen minutes later, she is still chewing.  This tooth-exhausting experience puts the nail in the coffin of Vodka's tolerance, and if anything, she finds this calamari even less exciting than the standard platter of most restaurants.  

Poor Showing, Purple

Slapping down our payment and forcing our exit through the heaviest front door this side of the Mississippi, Vodka prepares to leave Seattle and return to the land of jaywalkers, reservation confirmers, and properly-sized flatware.

And preferably, some clouds.

Purple Cafe and Wine Bar's Calamari: 3 stars

Off the Map: How to Make $8 Seem Overpriced, Seattle Edition

$6 Breakfast Happy Hour -- Toulouse Petit Kitchen and Lounge, Seattle, WA
Toulouse Petit Kitchen and Lounge

The first thing you need to know about Toulouse Petit Kitchen and Lounge in Seattle is that their breakfast happy hour does NOT, contrary to popular (read: Food Network) belief, cost $6.

It costs $8.

Highway robbery, Toulouse.  Way to let your Best Thing I Ever Ate "fame" go to your head.

What Is This -- 50 Cents Per Item on the Plate?!

Indeed, it seems as though once Melissa D'Arabian featured the restaurant on the BANG FOR THE BUCK episode of the program, Toulouse Petit decided to get their two-dollars-worth out of their newfound customers.

"Scenic," Except for, Well, ALL the Wires

And as two such customers, Vodka and her Seattle-based friend, Chianti, stumble into the place awash in giggles at their own idiocy.  You see, we have just come from an epic battle with the city's self-parking machines, during which Chianti pulled up to not one, not two, but THREE different parking spots, got out of the car... and discovered that the parking meter "wasn't working."

Needless to say, said meters were working.  We just didn't know how to use them.

And Being That It's 9am, We Can't Even Blame Our Usual Scapegoat

Anyway, it is in this moronic frame of mind that we enter Toulouse and are seated at an enormous corner booth, a happenstance that makes us quite pleased.

We Like an Unobstructed View of Our Minions

Unfortunately, these feelings of contentedness dissipate the moment we are made aware of this price gouging on this happy hour.

PS Toulouse -- We Never Feel Guilty for Day-Drinking

Ordering a French Press coffee (which, unlike last time Vodka came into contact with such a machine, she now knows how to use) to share, we set about choosing our breakfast dishes.

All These New-Fangled Contraptions Nowadays....

Chianti goes for the eggs florentine with arugula and tomatoes, and Vodka picks the cured pork cheeks confit hash (but only because it was the one Melissa D'Arabian recommended on Best Thing I Ever Ate).

They Like Their Eggs Poached in Seattle...

...Needless to Say, Ginger Would Hate It Here

After the waitress asks which of the 97 egg varieties Vodka would like on the hash, our plates arrive and look... okay.  Admittedly, the plates seem a bit large for the portions (or else, the portions are just made smaller for the "cheapskate" diners).

Here's a Hint: Don't Serve Skimpy Portions on a Serving Platter

Vodka's plate features bite-size pieces of pork, potato, and various other vegetables, all topped by the two eggs, which she quickly pierces with her fork.

Close-Up to Counteract the Fun-Size Plates

Trying to spread the (rather skimpy) yolk across the plate, she takes her first bite.

"How is it?" Chianti asks.

"It needs flavor," Vodka responds without affect.  Confirming through a few more forkfuls that the dish is entirely devoid of seasoning, Vodka begins piling on the salt and pepper.

Guess What? Still Dull

When even her favorite "condiments" don't result in anything more than a tasteless plate, she begins dumping on -- get this -- hot sauce.  HOT SAUCE!  We don't use hot sauce!  We have weak spice palates!  Clearly, this is a dire situation.

Hey Toulouse -- Next Time, How About a Bottle of Ketchup?

Chianti is similarly underwhelmed, if a tad less hostile, about her eggs florentine, and by the end of the meal, half of our food remains on the gargantuan plates, despite the relatively meager portions.

How Much Tomato Did you Spare There? An Eighth of One?

Even $8 seems too much to spend for these breakfast platters, and we leave with absolutely no desire to return to Toulouse Petit again.  Of course, if the happy hour had still cost $6, we might have been willing to give them a second chance.  Inflation, Toulouse, is not your friend

And neither, it seems, is hot sauce.

Toulouse Petit Kitchen and Lounge's $6 Breakfast Happy Hour: 2 stars