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10 august, 2000 |
seafood sam, al, and the yelling guy across the street Well, as you all well know, I've been on the road with the SlamAmerica tour, and now the National Poetry Slam. And, as you've probably guessed, I've been eating lots of food that I probably shouldn't be eating. I'm just not a big fan of fast food joints. It can make travelling tough sometimes, especially when my stomach is all growly and impatient, but taking a few moments to search for a diner or other eatery where the locals hang is definitely worth it. So that's what I've been doing. A lot of us have, actually. Because we're pigs, and beer is only so filling. Gotta have a sandwich to soak up the brew. So we drive to the Baltimore gig last week, and the bus pulls into the hotel parking lot. Adjacent to our hotel is --- and I kid you not --- Al's Crab House. Unassuming little wood-paneled place, and right next to a liquor store for an extra dash of class. Now, most of us on the bus are either huge South Park fans, and / or had seen the movie. So we're all, "hey, it's Big Gay Al's Crab House! Let's go have some big gay crab!" and making just way too many big gay crabby jokes because we're starving and punchy. They opened at 4:00, so we waited outside the door in a drizzle for them to open. After, of course, purchasing all necessary provisions from the business next door. Once inside, we were seated in the back (trust me, we belonged there), and were presented menus. And immediately, I zeroed in on my selection. Kimmy got a whopping plate of Jumbo Lump Crabcake. I didn't even know what "jumbo lump" was but damn if I'm going to pass up an opportunity to eat something with such a stupid name. I had visions of little hunchback crabs with warts. Cool. When I got my dinner, I think I realized why they're called "jumbo lump". Unless I'm being a real dippo, it was because there are big chunks of crab in there. Like BIG chunks, instead of the shredded stuff you usually get. Although disappointed that my mutant crab fantasies didn't come true, all doubts were gone on the first bite. These were dee-lish. Like, these are a reason to visit Baltimore. Big Gay Al's Big Gay Jumbo Lump Crab Cakes. 'Nuff said on those. Suffice it to say that my take-out leftover box lasted about a half hour before I dug back in for the finish. Crabby-licious. Okay, so we ate pretty much crap until Massachusetts (although my birthday dinner at Odessa's in the East Village was rocko --- thanks, Danny, Ken and Brenda!) Then we pulled into Falmouth for our final gig, an afternoon outdoor reading on a gorgeous, breezy day. Went to the beach, got my sunburn, then piled back into the bus for dinner. One of the guys on the bus used to live in the area, and he recommended Seafood Sam's. Lesson I'm learning: the hokier the name of a joint, the better the food. We were in kind of a hurry, so it was a take out and go situation. Easy enough, as you just ordered at the counter and waited for the grub. Sort of like Cap'n D's, only not creepy and mass-produced. Sue recommended lobster bisque, which I can't say I've ever had, so I got a cup of that and the fried clam platter. If you've ever had butter soup, just heated up a stick of butter and dumped a little flour and pepper in there for texture, that's about what this lobster bisque stuff tasted like. And man, do I love butter! I can't believe Orville Redinbacher isn't dumping this shit on popcorn! So then I get to the fried clams, and even though I'm a little woozy from the extreme richness of the bisque, I dig in. And again, dee-lish. Sweet, lightly fried, and with no tartar sauce needed, I ate those clam strips til it became physically uncomfortable to do much more than sit there and wait to go into a clam coma. As expected, I was out cold in about twenty minutes, and slept pretty soundly until we pulled into Providence. Ahoy, Seafood Sam! In Providence, I'm staying in the Johnson and Wales University dormitory on Empire street, and across from a few little storefront restaurant places. Most everything around here closes way too early for successful late-night snacking. Except, that is, for Suki's, where I've been getting my daily mushroom and onion grinder. The food isn't like exceptional or anything over there, but you have to go over just to see these guys. It's kind of a dive, but watching them work is a stitch. I don't know if the stocky one who yells all the time is Suki or not. He looks like he's in charge, and he's yelling, so I assume he's important. They don't exactly yell at the customers, although I was totally thrilled when one of the servers looked this punk right in the eye and said, "if you don't quit cursing at me, you're going to wait even longer for your order". From what I can gather, these are the commands in Suki-ese: YOU! Get your ass over there and sweep up that mess. So you can imagine my surprise when I'm sitting there tonight at 2:30 a.m. waiting with Krystal, Jason, and Marlon for our grub, and the yelling guy starts talking to me all nice-like. He asks if I'm one of the poets in town, where I'm from, and what I do for a living. I chatted him up a bit, and he explained that he has to deal with a lot of drug dealers and punk-ass kids at this time, and thus his modified customer service skills. But he seemed like a swell guy, he works hard, and so if you ever end up here sometime, eat there. The subs are good, solid fare, and EXTREMELY well-priced. And don't worry, he's not yelling at you.
Al's Crab House Seafood Sam's Suki's |