I continue on the chicken sandwich quest. Yesterday I decided to treat myself to an upgrade and walked across the street to Smalltown. Smalltown is a farm to table, locally raised type restaurant, the kind of place more affluent, society type folk like to frequent. Place was full of well bred doyennes yesterday. I confess I felt a bit dirty there, like I sullied the place a skoche with my mere poverty line presence. I'm old school, I don't need anybody else to cut the crusts off my cucumber watercress tea sandwiches.
This would be my third visit and the food is honestly a little spotty, first time my meal was cold, the second time I ate the most delicious fried chicken sandwich I have ever set my teeth into. If I can recall and it was many months ago, it had a wasabi dressing, the large, firm and perfectly cooked piece of chicken in perfect harmony with the delicious bun like Lennon paired with McCartney. Just fantastic, the wonderful crunch of the skin sent me into absolute orbit.
Now Smalltown is not fast food, in fact the place was downright expensive. I had to pony up seventeen bucks and change for yesterday's fare. And honestly, the food wasn't very good yesterday.
The bun was small but did manage to suck up a lot of grease, rendering the whole sandwich into a thoroughly underwhelming and difficult to eat culinary experience.
To top it off, somebody goofed on the fries, they must have triple salted them, they were completely inedible.
I mentioned this to the server and she cheerfully offered to cook me up some fresh ones but I was pretty much over the whole meal by then and took my leave.
Was the sandwich better than the two previous entrants in my survey? I guess maybe, by perhaps a hair but not by much, and for triple the price. I do have to say, that my wife loves the place, they do try really hard, the servers are sweet, I just find the food inconsistent.
Today was chemo day, my second regimen of immunotherapy started down in Hillcrest. It was a tough drive, ton of rain and an accident on the 15 but I made it on time and got through the procedure little worse for wear.
Decided I was hungry afterwards. Went to Bread and Cie to pick up two loaves of bread, a walnut raisin and a seeded sourdough batard or bastard as my wife likes to say. I bought my friend Lena a lemon cake too. After the medical procedure I am supposed to turn in four positions for an hour to get the solution in all the nooks and crannies of my bladder. I do it at Ron and Lena's.
Anyway I get there and reach for the cake and realize that Bread and Cie shorted me my walnut raisin bread which is a drag because it is an hour drive each way. Hopefully they will make it good next chemo, their phone isn't working right now for some reason. The late pope and resident sage of Fallbrook, Warren Bishop, is a regular there and may be able to help me out. It is, after all, over five bucks we are talking about here.
So by now I am actually hungry and I am sick of chicken sandwiches but I know that I must soldier on, I have a job to do damnit, so I stopped by the Colonel's in Oceanside to see how they stack up. I will grab myself a sandwich before I come home to roost.
The chicken filet was twice the depth of the others, it was firm and crunchy, in fact it was the first of the four entrants where the chicken was the star of the show.
The mayo was still too sweet, had some relish in it, tasted more like a tartar sauce. Bun did what a bun was supposed to do and was in proper proportion to the meat. Couple pickle slices topped it off. Perfect. It was a damn good sandwich, about five bucks.