March 14, 2003

-The following is an excerpt from the March 14, 2003 edition of The Tulsa Herald Dining and Entertainment Supplement.

Eatin' Out With Jammy

by Tulsa Food Critic Jammy Handinsaw

Chili's Does It Again

    Certainly there's a lot of great places to eat out at here in Tulsa, folks, but whenever Chili's opens up a new restaurant, I sit up and take notice.  I love all seven of the other Chili's Bar and Grill locations in town so it was with great expectations that we visited the new Chili's located in a busy corner of the Burlington Coat Factory strip mall at 71st and Memorial.

    As a food reviewer, I eat out a lot and after eating at so many fancy restaurants like the Olive Garden, Bennigan's, and the Outback Steakhouse, it was nice to go to a new Chili's and have a good down home meal.  The restaurant which we visited on a recent Friday evening at seven o'clock was hopping.  Now I'll admit that my wife Joline and I had been drinking all afternoon, but still I expected more from our hostess than just a mean-spirited sneer when we walked in.  I swear that stuck up skinny, little high school beauty queen in her low rise spandex pants and halter top was smiling when she told us it would be at least an hour wait.  Fortunately, we found a seat at the bar, and we decided to have a cocktail or two while we waited for a table.  Folks, you wouldn't believe all the crazy decorations they have on the walls.  From old-timey advertisements for baking powder to real live blinking traffic lights, they made the place look mighty lively, especially if you've already got a pretty good load on. 

    Finally, after seven or eight quick cocktails, Miss Skinny Pants found a table for us over by the men's room and just five minutes later the appetizers arrived.  Now if you've spent as much time in prison as I have, you learn to appreciate prompt and courteous service.  Our waiter - a young Latino fellow named Pasquobal - flat out got the job done, and the chili con queso and chips were piping hot and fresh out of the microwave.  He also knew how to keep the margaritas and beers coming, and I still feel bad about how he somehow got clubbed down later on.

    Anyway, the entrees had that famous quality that Chili's is known for.  My chicken tenders were plump, juicy, and golden brown with the greasy breading just falling off the fatty chicken meat just the way I like them.  Joline had the chicken fajitas, and they certainly looked good, served sizzling in hot grease on a cast iron skillet.  Unfortunately, what with Joline spitting up all over the table, the catfight, and my subsequent arrest, I never got to try them though they looked top notch.

    Now I won't make excuses for Joline, common law wife or not she's still my woman, but she should have known better than to doctor up those margaritas with that pint of peppermint schnapps she always keeps in her purse.  Add to that her hiatal hernia, her irritable bowel syndrome, and still being mighty sore from her second gastric stapling surgery and you've got yourself a volatile mix, mister.

    Still, that's no excuse for the that loud mouth yuppie soccer mom at the next table to start yelling for the manager.  Now, I'll tell you one thing about Joline.  Even if she's passed out and face down in a plate of crummy Mexican food, you don't ever, never want to use the word "fat" around her.  Quick as a bunny, she's up and has got two handfuls of soccer mom hair and they're rolling on the floor and plates and glasses are breaking.  Now if I've seen it once, I've seen it a million times:  when there's a catfight going on, the best thing you can do is step back and let the ladies have their way otherwise innocent folks will get hurt, but Mister Junior College Educated Assistant Manager just had to go jump in and try to break it up and get him self bit and scratched up something awful for his trouble.  He may not have been smart, but he sure was lucky.  Once I saw him put his hands on Joline, my old reflexes kicked in.  I swear I had him dead  in my sights with that chair I was swinging at him, but then up pops old Pasquobal and gets himself a face full of furniture.  I can still vividly remember the look of surprise on his face, but before I could apologize I felt a pair of hands getting a firm chokehold grip on my windpipe and then I blacked out.

    Honestly, I don't know why they bother to call them "off duty policemen" when even if they're eating dinner at a Chili's they still fell obliged to horn in on a domestic dispute that don't have nothing to do with them.  When I came to a few minutes later, I was a mess all covered in grease and beer and Pasquobal's blood.  Somehow in all the excitement I had lost my shoes.  Try as I might, being handicapped by being barefoot I couldn't manage to kick the rear window out of the police cruiser they had thrown me into after they cuffed me.

    Still on the bright side, the breakfast at the Tulsa County Jail, Eastern Precinct was a treat for both the eye and the palate.  The four flapjacks came hot off the griddle and were smothered in rich maple syrup applied so generously that it dripped over the sides of the Styrofoam tray they were served on.  Not to be too critical of other establishments, but it was definitely a step up from the carton of dry cereal that you get in Sapulpa County or the cold generic toaster pastries they try to fob off on a man as breakfast in Owasso's Detention Facility.

Next in Eatin' Out With Jammy:  The Hospital Food Special!