3859 Superior Ave E
Cleveland, OH 44114
By D. John Horseradish
The proverbial hills and valleys of life do not only apply in the macro, life-long sense, but also in varying occurrences of any length: Patrick Swayze’s career peaking at Roadhouse, diving at Point Break, and the resurgence his of street cred in the 16-wheeler epic Black Dog; Interpol’s Turn On The Bright Lights’ fantastic first 5 songs, thereafter plummeting into the abyss following “Say Hello To the Angels”; my recent lunch at the Town Fryer.
We began our lunch with an order of mussels. I was unsure of our order. Considering the name of the establishment is entitled “The Town Fryer”, un-fried mussels did not immediately seem a logical option. We received a sizable mound of mussels (non-fried) capable of making Hunk Hogan envious, placed atop a bed of angel hair pasta. Any residual mussel fish taste was covered by a pleasant garlic butter sauce capable of masking the pungent taste of a late 19th century French prostitute. The dish worked exceptionally well and set the stage for a meal I was eagerly anticipating. The mussels would prove to be the meal’s first “hill,” and would quickly decline.
My entrée was the daily special – white bean chicken chili and grilled cheese samich (I am aware “samich” is not the proper spelling of “sandwich”, however I don’t care and will forever refuse to change my spelling). The white bean chili was surprisingly short on both chicken and spice. As it is a southern restaurant I expected the chili to be spicy, but it did not even require my asking for additional southern sweet tea. This turned out to be beneficial, as I’ve had better sweet tea at Chick-Fil-A. Lastly, the chili was exceptionally heavy on sour cream – difficult considering Midwest and Scandinavian love of all things butter and cream, but true nonetheless. A Grilled Cheese can be a beautiful thing, but not this samich – minimal toast, minimal cheese; the only things massive about this samich were the manliness of the person eating it and his level of disappointment.
Luckily this lunch parabola ends on a high peak. Just as Corey Feldman resurrected his career by becoming a “musician,” fried Oreos would resurrect our Town Fryer dining experience. If it is possible to eat an unpleasant fried Oreo, it’s possible The Killers will no longer cover legendary bands whose songs are twice as good as anything they’ve ever written. It’s impossible, but impossibility inspires my never ceasing search for the perfect samich combo.