Lotus

Lotus
4970 Summer Avenue
682-1151

Ok, I'll just say it. You can't take your kids to Lotus. Not unless they are at least 13. It's just too slow.

And frankly, I'm not sure it is worth the wait.

Now, I am sure someone out there is a big Lotus fan and is not going to like hearing this, but I'm sorry, it's true.

Warren and I went to Lotus not too long ago--maybe a year or so--and we didn't have the kids. I used to go all the time in college, so I talked him into going. Well we sat down and no one ever took our order or said hello or anything. In fact, we never even saw anyone working there. So we left.

My good friend, who I used to actually go there with in college, recently convinced me to give it another try. She told me about the gigantic and delicious Banh Xeo and the shrimp in lobster sauce. In fact, she said if I didn't order them both we couldn't be friends anymore.

So on Friday night, after taking the monkeys to the econo hour over at the Ajay Cinema, we went back to Lotus. (Now, I know going at 7:00 on Friday is probably the worst time ever to go, but we did.) The parking lot was absolutely packed, but inside there were two or three open tables. (There are only about ten tables in the whole restaurant.) It took about 5 minutes, but a man did finally acknowledge us and point us to a table. We sat down and about ten minutes later a young man came over to give us a menu and take our drink orders.

That's already 15 minutes, people.

The only reason we didn't leave was because the kids had eaten before the movie and were not going to starve if we had to wait and the aforementioned friendship threat. I looked around at the other tables to see if any of them had food and to gauge whether we stood a chance. The problem seemed to be a table of nine. They were obviously celebrating something and had done a LOT of ordering. There was also a table of six. I could only hope that they weren't as hungry as the table of nine.

My friend was busy texting me to be patient, to wait, it was worth it, etc. She said the man and his wife do all of the cooking and everything is made to order. Ok, whatever, I'm fine with that. I pulled out my notebooks and pens and let the monkeys draw so that they wouldn't get too rowdy.

Lotus is definitely too small for any sort of rowdiness. Another reason I'd advise never bringing kids.

When we finally ordered we went with hot and sour soup, two spring rolls, the Banh Xeo, shrimp in lobster sauce, and pork fried rice. Jiro really wanted chicken wings, but they didn't have any. Satchel wanted beef curry, but I was worried that we'd already ordered too much. Surprisingly, neither one of them wanted any egg drop soup.

There was lots of drawing and talking and we did a pretty good job of being patient. Everything that came out of the kitchen went to the nine top. They seriously ordered a TON of food.

Our spring rolls and soup came out after ten or fifteen minutes, so we had a little to eat. "We" being me and Warren. The kids were not interested in either. I thought the soup was just okay. (It didn't come with "crunchies" which was a shame, since they would have appeased the monkeys.) The spring rolls were awesome. Soon after we finished our appetizers the kids got bored with drawing, so we let them play games on our iPhones. Normally I would not let them play games at dinner, but we were desperate. The table of six next to us had requested a plate of white rice for one of the dudes to eat, so I knew we still had a loooooooong wait!

Our Banh Xeo came out after awhile and it was okay. Described as an Asian Taco, it was a fried shell with bean sprouts and grilled shrimp inside. Maybe some cabbage? It was pretty good. My friend said to order it with lettuce and hot sauce but we never quite figured out what to do with either. Again the kids had no interest in eating any of this.

After the Banh Xeo was gone we had about an hour's stretch with nothing. NOTHING. Satchel was getting really hungry and whiney, my iPhone battery was dying, and things were generally not looking good. Again, had it not been for the friendship threat, I would have left.

Finally, I took a cue from our neighbors and asked the man for some white rice. I told him the kids were getting too hungry. Then, like magic, our fried rice came out, white rice came out, and the shrimp in lobster sauce came out. (I should have complained sooner!)

Now, let's talk about the pork fried rice. I am not very picky about pork fried rice, but I have to say that this one was awful. First off, it smelled like it was rancid. I took one bite and that was it. (The giant carrot chunks did not help the taste.) I kept my disdain to myself, lest I put the kids off. (I don't think it was really rancid, but I do think that the "pork" may have been pig parts I don't usually eat.) Warren tasted it and said it was fine. Satchel was open to eating some, but Jiro refused. Poor Jiro only ended up with a plate of white rice after behaving for almost two hours!

The shrimp in lobster sauce was thankfully pretty good. Satchel agreed to eat one shrimp, but the sauce was too daunting and it stayed on his plate. We ran out of white rice before we could put a dent in the shrimp, so we just decided to take it home. And we had a shit ton of pork fried rice to take home too. (Warren insisted he would eat it. He doesn't like to waste.)

The man came by and I asked for some boxes and the check. He brought both over and I handed him my credit card. He showed me the bill and asked me to add the tip in first, which I have never ever been asked to do, but I did. Then he walked over to the register where I assumed he'd ring it up. Well, just then the table of nine got up and apparently they all had separate checks. Instead of ringing mine real quick, he rang up every single one of them.

Yep.

So we sat there another 20 minutes while this went on. Did I mention it was 9:15 and I was supposed to meet someone at 8:30? Or that we got to the restaurant at 7:00?

Luckily Warren's battery had more juice than mine and he downloaded a really fun marble run game for the kids to play.

Once the nine people left, the man went back to waiting tables. I walked over to ask about my check and then he remembered my card. He rang it up ($34 + $6 tip) and then handed me the slip to sign. The slip had a place for a tip, which I thought was strange since he had asked me to add it in before. I just drew a line and totaled it out, signed my name, and we were off. Finally!

As we drove home, we listed all of the other Vietnamese places we know that were faster, cheaper, and had better food.

The family that owns Lotus is really nice and I do appreciate that they make everything themselves. Obviously they have a loyal following or they wouldn't have made it all of these years. I wish them the best. Team Oster will be dining elsewhere.

The Local Taco (Nashville)

The Local Taco
4501 Murphy Rd
Nashville, TN
(615) 891-3271

After a lovely couple of days in Chattanooga, we headed back to Memphis. We planned to stop in Nashville for a quick run through Trader Joe's and for some dinner. I texted my friend Chip, who is a frequent visitor to Nashville, and asked him what the name of the taco place was that he told me about. He had presented it to me as a taco place along the lines of Las Tortugas that used mostly local ingredients. (Or at least that's how I remembered him telling me.) Anyways, that is a lot to live up to. My expectations were extremely high going in.

Also, I have to say that I've been completely ruined by all of the great places in Memphis along Macon Road.

The Local Taco is in Sylvan Park, which isn't too far from Trader Joe's. We arrived just as it was getting dark. It's a very small restaurant with a large covered patio. It was chilly so we opted to sit inside--after we stood at the hostess stand and perused the specials board and paper menu. (That's right, the hostess stand.) I looked around the restaurant and there were several families in attendance, which I took to be a good sign.

The kids' menu featured two choices--a cheese quesadilla or a southern fried chicken taco--with a side of rice, refried beans, or black beans. Satchel opted for the chicken taco with rice and Jiro said he only wanted chips and cheese dip. (We'd actually eaten a late lunch so I wasn't too worried about him doing this.) Warren, who thought the kids meal should come with rice AND beans, opted for the special ancho chile blackened ribeye taco and a Korean BBq taco. I went for the special buffalo chicken taco and a spicy shrimp taco.


Now, it was clear from the menu board, the menu, the interior bar, and the large, enclosed patio that one should definitely order a margarita or some sangria to go along with their meal. Had we not been driving all the way to Memphis (at night, on very little sleep) maybe we would have gone this route and I'd have nothing but fantastic things to say about the Local Taco.

We took a seat by the window and were soon presented with our drinks--waters all around, except Jiro who went with an orange Juarito. Satchel's water came in a paper cup with a papery feeling straw. (Bonus points for no styrofoam or plastic. And extra double bonus points for Joni Mitchell on the speakers.)

We also got our chips and dip, which according to the menu, featured locally made chips and locally grown jalapenos. No complaints on the chips and dip. The kids liked it, Warren and I liked it, and we happily ate it.

We had no salsa, which was kind of sad. I'm morally opposed to paying for salsa. Ok, not morally, because obviously it costs money, but too many places give it away for free to make me want to pay for it. Who knows, maybe The Local Taco has the best salsa in the whole world and it is a total steal for $2.50.

The food came out soon after and Satchel was horrified to see lettuce and tomatoes on his taco. I removed them and he wasted no time wolfing down the chicken and the tortilla, which incidentally is also made locally. Jiro, who was still working on the last of the chips and dip, informed me that tomatoes give him the hiccups. When I questioned him further, he changed his story. "Well, one big hiccup."

Warren and my tacos came out together on one platter. We divvied them up and we dug in. Warren liked the ribeye taco but said the Korean BBQ would be better in a rice paper wrapper. I informed him that if that were the case, it wouldn't be a taco anymore. Both of my tacos were fine--a little too smothered in sauce, but fine. I definitely do NOT think the Las Tortugas comparison was warranted. (Sorry, Chip!) I would put it more on par with Cafe Ole.

Our total bill was $21, which I thought was ok. I didn't feel like I got ripped off, but I didn't feel like I got a deal either, if that makes any sense. (Remember, we only had one drink and Jiro didn't eat a meal.)

I also don't know how I feel about the whole "Local" thing going on. Nowhere on the menu (or the website) does it explicitly state how local they are or what exactly is local--other than the chips and the tortillas. It kind of seems like they are taking advantage of the locavore fascination, or at the very least, just not doing a good job of explaining how awesome they really are.

But in the grand scheme of things--if I lived in Nashville, I'd probably frequent this place. It seems like a nice place to take kids, relax, have a fancy cocktail, and enjoy some interesting food.

Mellow Mushroom (Chattanooga)

Mellow Mushroom
205 Broad St
Chattanooga, TN
(423) 266-5564


After a long day of walking around the awesome riverfront and across the pedestrian bridge, riding the carousel, and generally checking out everything Chattanooga had to offer, we were starved. "We" being Team Oster, our friend Catherine, and her son, Noah, age 2, who met up with us for the weekend. We needed something relatively fast since it was getting late, and something that everyone would like. I suggested the Mellow Mushroom since pizza is usually a crowd pleaser. (I was also a little nostalgic about eating there since Satchel's first bite of pizza was at the Mellow Mushroom in Nashville when he was nine months old.) Catherine and Noah live in Ramallah, so Noah's not really used to eating pizza, but Catherine figured she could at least procure some pasta on his behalf.

We arrived around 6:30pm and there were several people there, but we had no trouble getting a table. The atmosphere was very laidback and bar-like, but there were plenty of families in attendance. Our very attentive waiter supplied us all with the beverage of our choice within minutes and we quickly decided on what we wanted to eat. Bruschetta and meatballs for Noah (there's no pasta on the menu!), a calzone for Catherine, a pepperoni pizza for Satchel and Jiro, and a Caesar salad & Kosmic Karma pizza for Warren and I to split. I mentioned we were starved, right? My only concern was that our pizza had a pesto sauce rather than a red sauce, my favorite, but the waiter happily agreed to bring me a side of sauce for dipping. Warren was very seriously considering ordering one of their witty t-shirts.


Catherine requested Noah's food ASAP and it came out amazingly fast. The monkeys were totally eyeing the meatballs and Catherine quickly offered them each one. Warren and I got our salad right away too so everyone was quite happy eating and chatting and enjoying each other's company. I hadn't dined with a two-year-old in quite some time and was very impressed by Noah's table manners. The monkeys, after going all day, were worn out enough to sit still, quietly eat, and participate in dinner conversation.

We had so much food on the table already I wondered how we'd fit the pizza, but thanks to the elevated metal racks, we had no problem. The pizza was really, really good. Ours had sundried tomatoes, spinach, feta, pesto and fresh tomatoes. Yum. Even the kids' pepperoni was extra tasty. It should come as no surprise to you that we ate everything and even had a second round of beers. (No one had to drive thanks to Chattanooga's free electric shuttle.) Jiro and Satchel claimed that they were still hungry and wanted more meatballs. Catherine thought Noah could probably eat another one, so I ordered some more.

I should have known better.

The restaurant was quite a bit fuller by then, and our waiter and the kitchen were much busier. Whereas our first order of meatballs came out in about five minutes, the second order took infinitely longer. The kids, who had now had a chance for their food to settle, didn't care about eating at all. They wanted to run around some more. We did a few bathroom runs and then let them play pee- a-boo at the railing adjacent to the table. It was time to leave. I called the waiter over and asked to cancel the order of meatballs, but he said they should be done. "Then box them up," I said, hoping someone would eat them before they went bad. (Our hotel room did not have a fridge or a microwave.) "And please bring the check."

By the time I got the check and the meatballs, Catherine and Warren were running the kids up and down the sidewalk outside. I took a quick look at the check, and it seemed a little high, but I just figured it was because it was for 6 instead of our usual 4. I was pretty happy with the service prior to the last order of meatballs, so I left our waiter a very nice 20% tip.

A few days later, back in Memphis, I took a closer look at the receipt. It already had an 18% gratuity added! No wonder! I was not happy about the waiter not mentioning this when he handed it to me. I didn't think a party of six would warrant an automatic gratuity-usually it's more people that that, right? Our waiter, while good, did not deserve an almost 40% tip! I thought about calling the restaurant, but decided it would be more trouble than it was worth. I learned a lesson the hard way. And a hard working waiter got a little bonus. Worse things have happened.

Oh, and just so you know, a Mellow Mushroom is slated to open in Germantown in 2010. Yep Nashville and Chattanooga get one in the urban center, we get one in the burbs. Oh, Memphis.

Aretha Frankensteins

Aretha Frankensteins
518 Tremont St. (Chattanooga)
(423) 265-7685

My Facebook friends who live in Chattanooga are always talking about a place called Aretha Frankensteins. There was no way I was leaving Chattanooga without eating there. Aretha's is located on the North side of Chattanooga, across the Tennessee River, where all of the hipsters live. It's one of those places that is super local and just can't be duplicated. It's like Brother Juniper's, but dare I say, cooler.

Aretha's serves breakfast, lunch, dinner, espresso, and beer. It's open from 7am to midnight everyday. These facts alone make it awesome in my book. Word on the street is that breakfast is the time to go, so we made plans to go on a Sunday morning. I knew that this would likely be a super busy time, but with such a short visit, it was then or never.

Thanks to Google maps we found it without too much trouble. It's nestled inside a very quirky, Cooper-Youngish neighborhood in an old house. It's pretty small, and it was a bit too cold to sit on the lovely patio, so we kept our fingers crossed as we approached. Turns out it was full, but there were only two people ahead of us in line. A waiter came over and took our name and said it would be about 15 minutes. He pointed to a family at the bar and said they were almost done and we could sit in their seats when they left. I was worried we might miss our pre-booked River Gorge ride on the other side of the river, but the waiter said we'd have time. I took his word for it and tried to relax.

We crouched in the doorway and took in the decor. There were lots of kitschy and spooky things hanging on (and from) the walls. I'm assuming that the spooky things are permanent considering the restaurant's name, but they might have been Halloween related. As we waited, more and more people started showing up. Some ordered coffee and drank it on the porch, others patiently chatted on the patio. I asked for a menu to peruse while we waited. We started planning our orders so we could be in and out.


The family at the bar finished up soon after, and we happily took their spots. The bar was expansive and so were the chairs. They were like big leather armchairs on stilts. Satchel and Jiro were getting a little loud with each other so I sat between them. They didn't like this, but I didn't budge. A cute little woman with a "Chattaboogie" t-shirt took our drink orders (coffee, Diet Coke, 2 waters) and Warren and I finalized the food order. Satchel wanted biscuits and gravy; Jiro wanted a breakfast burrito with eggs, cheese, and sausage; and Warren wanted the Polish omelette with sausage and peppers. I felt like someone should get pancakes, so a slim stack was my order by default. (Had I done a better job of examining the menu, I would have certainly ordered someone the Elephants Gerald which is a Belgian waffle topped with ice cream and pecans.)

To keep the very hungry and increasingly antsy monkeys busy, I let them take pictures with my camera and design various shapes and structures with toothpicks. Satchel and I could also see in the kitchen were a young man was making the biscuits. Above the kitchen door was a melted keyboard, which Warren and I found interesting. A little digging and I discovered that Aretha's burnt down a few years ago and had to be rebuilt, so it is likely a remnant. I also read, but did not actually see, that there is a table that is a working Pac Man game. Too bad we didn't sit there!

Our food came out in a timely fashion and we all dug in. Satchel's biscuits and gravy, despite being a half order, were huge! He ate every bite! Jiro's burrito was huge too, but he only made a dent in it. He was distracted my his large side of breakfast potatoes and his very own biscuit. Warren was too far away for me to get a good look at his breakfast, but he reported that it was tasty. My pancakes, also gigantic, were really, really good. So good, in fact, that I ate them plain. That's right, plain. (The pancake mix is sold in stores, and I can definitely see why.)

Our tab came to $28. We all had full bellies and a ton of leftovers (except Satchel). As we walked out, I couldn't believe how many people were waiting to get in. We definitely lucked out and beat the rush. Had we not been in a hurry to catch the boat, I would have insisted on strolling through the neighborhood. (I saw one house with a fence made of old bicycles!)

For the rest of our visit, Satchel asked at least 50 times if we could go back to Aretha's. I really wished we could.