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Yes, this is a review of a restaurant, but the review is subsidiary to "The Fat Mule's" feelings about dining adventures in far places. Many of us get to periodically travel for fun or business and there comes a point where one more trip to Olive Garden, Big Boy's, or Bob Evens will kill your gastronomic soul that is the time to belly up to some adventure. I have had a number of experiences going to a restaurant because it looked interesting, unusual, mysterious or some other manifestation of "Not the McDonald's" restaurant selection method. The first time I remember doing this would have been in Columbus, OH in the late 70's while walking back to my office on Mound Street. It was between breakfast, which I did not have, and Lunch, which was far in the future because of meetings. As I walked down 4th street between Rich and Main St., I walked by a little hole in the wall dinner named the Queen Bee. It was small, packed, and it smelled great. I went in and that was the best decision I made that day; maybe that week. The Queen Bee is gone now. The last time I was there was around 2007. Then one day it was gone. There was nothing about The Queen Bee that said that I was their target demographic. From my ethnicity and race to the fact that I was wearing a suit and tie, I was a standout in that tiny, wonderful place. I could have looked in the window, assumed it was not "My kind of place" and walked on. I do not know why but I walked in. The most memorable place for me was a little joint called the Cafetería Salvadoreña. I had friends that refused to walk into the Salvadoran just because the windows were boarded up; it was in a little strip mall down a bleak, rundown road that was falling down on one end while being torn down on the other. The Pupusas there were divine and served with Curtido, a tart cabbage slaw. It was prepared almost in front of my eyes by two portly women that talked to me, explaining what they were doing as they went along. The pair was as hospitable as you would ever want. My wife and I went to a wedding in Morton IL. last week. Morton is not in the middle of nowhere; it is more accurately on the distant outskirts of the middle of nowhere. We checked in at the main stream Holiday Inn Express located in the center of a soybean field. We got some dinner recommendations from the nice lady at the desk and ventured out. Within seconds we got lost and ended up driving down a country road to who knows where. Finally, we admitted we were not going in the right direction and came upon an intersection with a closed gas station on the corner. We were going to turn around when I noticed it had an OPEN sign, hand lettered, hanging in the window. It also claimed to have food. My wife and I decided we were tired and thought maybe we could order something to take back to the Holiday Inn. Inside it smelled very good. Middle eastern food with Americanized names predominated. I ordered the Lamb and Peppers pita and my wife got the veggie pita. I always try Baba Ghanoush if it is available. While we waited to get our order I wandered around the store. I checked the bait situation and they had night crawlers, bloodworm, meal bug larva but no minnows. The fishing tackle was primarily Eagle Claw Hooks, leaders and an assortment of jigs and lures. I was especially impressed with the condom selection. As we made ou way up front to pay, I also noticed a glass case filled with festive glass pot … as in marijuana … pipes. A one stop shop for sure. Now, I would neither recommend this establishment nor tell you not to check out Baba's Grill and Convenience Store. They are at 1989 North Morton Avenue, Morton, IL 61550. If you are in the area drive by and decide if you want to try them. Here are some pictures that might pique your interest ... or not.
After all, access to birth control and weed paraphernalia are two of the hallmarks of fine dining … right? But experiment a bit; you may come across some real gems. Nothing risked … nothing gained. I’m surely not saying very adventure works out well. In the early 80's there was a bar and grill on Agler Rd. named The Iron Butterfly. That visit ended abruptly when several friends and myself found it necessary to throw money on the table and run for the parking lot. We didn't look back until we felt like our lives were not in jeopardy. “In-A-Godda-Da-Vida” (In the Garden of Eden in Stoner) it was NOT!
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