My brother-in-law is visiting this weekend from UT Knoxville. Here's a little shout-out to Josh. Woot!
Chris wanted to show him a good time, so he took him to Armando's, where we once devoured the best (and biggest) bacon cheeseburger and onion rings ever! However, Josh's bus came in at 8:10. Armando's sign says they close at 7pm. Or 6pm. You can't really tell. The number 6 is hand-written in black marker over the printed number 7, so both are visible, and the intent of the communication is lost. "Armando's, open 10am to 7/6 pm." (There isn't a key on my keyboard that has the 6 superimposed over the 7. So, I improvised.)
So, after enjoying a sprinkly game of tennis at Warner Park, we hustled down to Main and Lynbrook, as 6pm was quickly approaching. We maneuvered around several hastily parked cars, landed in a proper parking spot, and waited for Chris to change out of his sweaty shirt into a clean one. It's a good thing, too, because the sign on the door clearly states, "No shoes, no shirt, no service." Do people do that in Chattanooga, too? I thought it was an Arkansas thing.
Well-shod and well-clothed, we entered the unassuming little restaurant, where the chairs were already up on the table and the floor ready to be mopped. I guess it does close at 6! We walked up to the counter, where a sign states, "We cannot be held responsible if you do not make your order correctly."
Whoa! Intimidation. This must be some burger if you have to worry about the WAY you order it.
They offer home-cooked foods as well as burgers, so the cluttered menu offered nothing but confusion and intimidation, considering the pressure I was under to order properly. So I went for what I knew: The Bacon Burger.
"You don't want cheese with that??" the cashier asked.
"Oh, well, yes, I do," I said. (It's listed as a Bacon Burger on the menu, so that's what I said!)
My husband and his brother followed my lead and ordered properly. "I'd like a bacon CHEESEburger, please, with fries and a sprite."
We also ordered the homemade daily special banana pudding, but they were out. They do, after all, close at 6pm.
Armando's deals in takeouts and callins--more, I daresay, than sit-ins. But what an amazing opportunity to eat half a cow for under $5! And the burger truly is the juiciest, tastiest, most satisfying burger I have ever had. And I've had my share of burgers all over the country.
If I didn't think it would clog up my heart, I might eat a half-Armando's everyday. But I would hate to hear the doctor tell me after an MRI of my heart, "Oh, here's the problem, you have a chunk of hamburger in your heart!"
As we slowly savored our meal, I overheard this conversation between employees:
A: "Did you lock the door yet?"
B: "Nope, we have three minutes."
ENTER family of three
A: "I'm sorry, we're all out of burgers."
Family of three looks very puzzled. How does a burger joint run out of burgers, they must be asking themselves. And how are they going to NOT be out of burgers by 10am? Will they be making a run to Sam's Club tonight before they close at 8pm?
A: "We have, um, salad?"
(The question mark is intentional, because she really asked it in the most sheepish, unfortunate, apologetic way.)
Salad. Not the best consolation prize when your mouth is salivating for Armando's burgers.
EXIT family of three.
ENTER Employee C, apparently, the cook.
C: "What, they didn't want any food?"
A: "We're out of burgers!"
C: "What??! We're not out of burgers! I've been cookin' them to order!"
By this time, I am certain the clock had struck 6pm, but no one had moved to lock the door because a flurry of apologies and explanations followed, and the man of the family jested that they walked all the way back out to their car and back in again!
It's just as well. You'll have to do a lot more walking than that to burn off the fat that burger'll put on you.
So we left Armando's and the sheepish employees, fat and happy, clothed and shod, just after 6pm.
We will definitely return... just as soon as I brush my arteries.
Saturday, September 5, 2009
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
The Yellow Deli... not Delhi
Our Sunday School teacher mentioned the Yellow Deli in class, and Chris and I geared up for Indian food. Boy, were we surprised! Those dang homophones get me every time!
The Yellow Deli, located on the campus of UTC in the 700 block of McCallie Ave., has very little parking available. In fact, my friends who attend UTC have skipped class before for lack of a parking spot. We drove the block so many times that it would have been faster for us to actually walk from our house. Finally, a small metered spot opened up, but being after 4:30 pm, we didn't have to fork over the cash to park there. After a fourteen-point parallel park by my dear sweet husband who is all-talented, we finally disembarked and walked a block and a half to the hippie-decorated brick building with an extensive paver patio.
After we entered, we weren't sure what to do. A small carved niche shows a handful of hot drinks available at what looks like a coffee bar. Loaves of bread were also available here. The sign said, "Please seat yourself," but we wanted to sit on the patio and weren't sure this applied to us. So we seated ourselves on the patio. My husband actually asked someone on the patio if this was the right move (a man, asking??!), and we were directed back inside.
It's easy to tell who works at the Yellow Deli because they all belong to a commune, a Christian cult called The Twelve Tribes, and many of the women wore long, billowy, cuffed pants and loose button-down shirts. Those who didn't choose Billow Cuff as their style still wore Billow. From what I gathered by reading the wall, this movement grew out of the "love everybody" hippie movement. The men wore unshaven faces, ponytailed, and headbands.
We flagged down a tribe-member and asked what to do next. He grabbed some menus for us (yellow, of course), and directed us to the smoothie bar, where two barstools awaited us. He told us, "Sometimes, when you're sitting here, you may be blessed with some tea, so be prepared."
We weren't.
We perused and perused that menu. We read the wall, which explains a little bit about the movement. We watched a college student stop himself about a centimeter from banging his face into a wooden post, which had, incidentally, been padded with leather, indicating that he was not the first to meet nose to post.
Still no tea.
Finally, we flagged down a lady with a long gray ponytail and a worrisome look, and asked her if she was the right person to order from. She took our order, ran our Visa, then returned and asked for cash. Chris sits on his wallet and rubs the magnetic strips off of them, so that was no surprise. I managed to break the worried look by making this observation aloud. She smiled ever so slightly.
For $14.75 plus tip, we enjoyed the most delicious lamb sandwich (the lambwich) and Deli Rose sandwich ever. The honey wheat roll just melted in my mouth like cotton candy. I told Chris I wasn't hungry, but he urged me to order anyway, and we'll take it home. I ate the whole thing. Lamb! Can you believe it?!
Two fully-bearded and ponytailed men sanded and shellaqued away at a new handrail for the patio while we munched our deli meal. They seemed normal enough--no strange accent, a normal sense of humor, no strange bonnets on their heads or a million kids running around (as if I can talk about that!). We picked up a free brochure on the way out about the order, but it's awfully wordy, and I haven't had a chance to read it yet.
Apparently, the Deli sustains their way of life financially. It's some good eatin', lemme tell you. If I could afford it, I might eat there all the time. They have free wifi, and they're open 24 hours for 5 days a week. I think they close on Friday night and reopen sometime on Sunday. I'm sure www.YellowDeli.com will give all the details you need.
We toured the building before we left so I could describe it to you. Downstairs, you'll find the coffee bar and smoothie bar, as well as an array of small tables and chairs made of wood seats and iron formed in the shape of large daisies. A very cool spiral staircase leads upstairs, but since spirals are difficult to manage sometimes, they added a traditional staircase in the back. That one leads you right into the lounge, where drinks are allowed, but not food. They have a few couches, and one table in that area. Eventually, they'll open their upstairs balcony. I peeked out the windows and saw a few members of the order chatting out there among mostly disassembled tables and chairs. Additional seating in daisy chairs is available upstairs as well.
When you go to the restroom, choose one of two rooms labeled, "Whatever you are." The handles are fashioned from leather and brass, which lends to the hand-crafted feel of the place. Appropriately enough, the toilet was yellow, or at least looked yellow in the dim light of the brown room. Since you never can tell with religious cults, I was glad to see soap and running water.
This is definitely the most unique restaurant I've visited in many years. While I do enjoy my cookie-cutter Starbucks, I like unique, too. I'll probably go back very soon, if not to the restaurant, to the concession stand at the Sunday Farmer's Market downtown.
Why yellow?
And why is everything decorated with daisies?
No wonder our Sunday School teacher confused it with the Purple Daisy... whatever that is. Maybe we'll head there next time.
The Yellow Deli, located on the campus of UTC in the 700 block of McCallie Ave., has very little parking available. In fact, my friends who attend UTC have skipped class before for lack of a parking spot. We drove the block so many times that it would have been faster for us to actually walk from our house. Finally, a small metered spot opened up, but being after 4:30 pm, we didn't have to fork over the cash to park there. After a fourteen-point parallel park by my dear sweet husband who is all-talented, we finally disembarked and walked a block and a half to the hippie-decorated brick building with an extensive paver patio.
After we entered, we weren't sure what to do. A small carved niche shows a handful of hot drinks available at what looks like a coffee bar. Loaves of bread were also available here. The sign said, "Please seat yourself," but we wanted to sit on the patio and weren't sure this applied to us. So we seated ourselves on the patio. My husband actually asked someone on the patio if this was the right move (a man, asking??!), and we were directed back inside.
It's easy to tell who works at the Yellow Deli because they all belong to a commune, a Christian cult called The Twelve Tribes, and many of the women wore long, billowy, cuffed pants and loose button-down shirts. Those who didn't choose Billow Cuff as their style still wore Billow. From what I gathered by reading the wall, this movement grew out of the "love everybody" hippie movement. The men wore unshaven faces, ponytailed, and headbands.
We flagged down a tribe-member and asked what to do next. He grabbed some menus for us (yellow, of course), and directed us to the smoothie bar, where two barstools awaited us. He told us, "Sometimes, when you're sitting here, you may be blessed with some tea, so be prepared."
We weren't.
We perused and perused that menu. We read the wall, which explains a little bit about the movement. We watched a college student stop himself about a centimeter from banging his face into a wooden post, which had, incidentally, been padded with leather, indicating that he was not the first to meet nose to post.
Still no tea.
Finally, we flagged down a lady with a long gray ponytail and a worrisome look, and asked her if she was the right person to order from. She took our order, ran our Visa, then returned and asked for cash. Chris sits on his wallet and rubs the magnetic strips off of them, so that was no surprise. I managed to break the worried look by making this observation aloud. She smiled ever so slightly.
For $14.75 plus tip, we enjoyed the most delicious lamb sandwich (the lambwich) and Deli Rose sandwich ever. The honey wheat roll just melted in my mouth like cotton candy. I told Chris I wasn't hungry, but he urged me to order anyway, and we'll take it home. I ate the whole thing. Lamb! Can you believe it?!
Two fully-bearded and ponytailed men sanded and shellaqued away at a new handrail for the patio while we munched our deli meal. They seemed normal enough--no strange accent, a normal sense of humor, no strange bonnets on their heads or a million kids running around (as if I can talk about that!). We picked up a free brochure on the way out about the order, but it's awfully wordy, and I haven't had a chance to read it yet.
Apparently, the Deli sustains their way of life financially. It's some good eatin', lemme tell you. If I could afford it, I might eat there all the time. They have free wifi, and they're open 24 hours for 5 days a week. I think they close on Friday night and reopen sometime on Sunday. I'm sure www.YellowDeli.com will give all the details you need.
We toured the building before we left so I could describe it to you. Downstairs, you'll find the coffee bar and smoothie bar, as well as an array of small tables and chairs made of wood seats and iron formed in the shape of large daisies. A very cool spiral staircase leads upstairs, but since spirals are difficult to manage sometimes, they added a traditional staircase in the back. That one leads you right into the lounge, where drinks are allowed, but not food. They have a few couches, and one table in that area. Eventually, they'll open their upstairs balcony. I peeked out the windows and saw a few members of the order chatting out there among mostly disassembled tables and chairs. Additional seating in daisy chairs is available upstairs as well.
When you go to the restroom, choose one of two rooms labeled, "Whatever you are." The handles are fashioned from leather and brass, which lends to the hand-crafted feel of the place. Appropriately enough, the toilet was yellow, or at least looked yellow in the dim light of the brown room. Since you never can tell with religious cults, I was glad to see soap and running water.
This is definitely the most unique restaurant I've visited in many years. While I do enjoy my cookie-cutter Starbucks, I like unique, too. I'll probably go back very soon, if not to the restaurant, to the concession stand at the Sunday Farmer's Market downtown.
Why yellow?
And why is everything decorated with daisies?
No wonder our Sunday School teacher confused it with the Purple Daisy... whatever that is. Maybe we'll head there next time.
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