It really is an incredible sandwich. When they do it right.
Since I rhapsodized earlier this week about a certain hamburger -- Joyland's The Original Crustburger, to be specific -- it makes sense to me to tell you about two other recent hamburger/sandwich experiences.
It is a cautionary tale if ever there was one.
A few weeks ago -- it was Good Friday -- we all traipsed up to the line between the states of North and South Carolina, Exit 90 off of I-77, the Fort Mill (or Carowinds) exit, for a birthday party.
The birthday honoree was none other than our beloved granddaughter Allissa, who turned seventeen on Tax Day.
You may recall, if you've been reading I'm Having A Thought Here for any length of time, that we have met our eldest, Stephanie, and her family in that area several times a year, for years, to celebrate birthdays.
At that exit are two restaurants that are ideal for such gatherings: Cracker Barrel and Culver's.
As you no doubt know, Cracker Barrel is a sit-down dining experience, with a proper server for your table, and all that. Most pleasant.
Culver's is fast food but it is GOOD fast food. Good the way that Chick-fil-A is good. This ain't McDonald's. The major draw at Culver's is the ButterBurger. And then there's that frozen custard. Don't get me started.
Be that as it may, for the overwhelming majority of the times we have met at the state line for birthday parties, the family chose Cracker Barrel as our venue.
Until last fall, when as I wrote here, we met there for a small bridal shower for Audrey, and found that some random person in the Cracker Barrel organization who no doubt thinks they are a genius, decided to overhaul the interior of this American institution.
It's not a birthday without balloons
Y'all. Once again: If it ain't broke, don't fix it. And as a side note, the two Cracker Barrels in our neck of the woods remain as they were. May it ever be so.
Anyway after that experience I vowed to never darken the door of that particular Cracker Barrel again, and I meant it, so that meant that what was left for a party venue at that exit which is so convenient for all involved, was Culver's.
The children -- especially our North Carolina grandchildren a/k/a the Tar Heel Tootsies -- were thrilled at that idea. They adore Culver's.
So it was that we all met up at the dinner hour on the appointed day. That's when things began to go downhill. The problem seemed to be that that Culver's location, while extremely popular, is poorly managed.
Although there were scads of employees, the wait times were excessive. Stephanie had submitted her order via the app while on the road between her house and Culver's, and yet she still waited more than an hour after arriving at the restaurant, before they came up with her family's meals.
She had to beg, and plead, and stand in line for at least a half hour, to get their order. It was frustrating.
The ButterBurgers, they claim, are not frozen (the patties, that is) and are cooked to order. Naturally that takes a beat longer but even allowing for this, and for the fact that it was a Friday night, the wait times were too long.
Meanwhile I, who do not as a rule order anything on apps, had studied the Culver's menu on my phone while we were on the road. It takes us ninety minutes to get there, so there was plenty of time.
I knew I wanted the classic ButterBurger with fries. As it turns out though, they have a version called The Works which happens to be just the way I like my burger: with ketchup, yellow mustard, pickles, and diced onion.
Ooooh that's what I'm having, I enthused to TG as he drove.
That was one happy birthday cake
And yet, after we arrived and greeted everyone and arranged our tables to accommodate the large group, and I went to the counter to order, something went wrong.
Of course I was not aware until a good deal of time later (as I said, it was taking them a minute to get the orders out), that something had gone wrong.
So it was that when my hamburger and fries arrived at the table (they bring it out to you), and I took a few bites, I realized that I was eating a double (two patties) and not a single, which is what I had ordered.
Also, the double burger in question was slathered with mayonnaise -- the pirate does NOT do mayonnaise as a sandwich topping -- plus a huge slice of tomato, and lettuce, and giant rings of red onion. The burger was so stuffed with stuff I never order on a burger, that I was immediately grossed out.
I took it back up to the counter and got someone's attention. She turned out to be a polite and professional young lady. I explained that I had not been served the burger that I ordered.
She assessed the situation and concluded -- not in an unkind way -- that I had not ordered correctly. She surmised that I had used the words All The Way instead of The Works when telling the cashier what I wanted.
But, I said (because I did not remember doing that), why then do I have a double instead of a single? Because I know I ordered a single.
She said she did not know but not to worry, she would see that all was put right.
And it took a while, but she did indeed do that, and the resulting ButterBurger The Works was intensely delicious. I followed it up with a small serving of chocolate frozen custard.
So all really is well that ends well.
Stephanie had thought of everything for Lissy's party
I wish I could say the same about the Jersey Mike's Hot Honey Chicken Cheese Steak that TG and I ordered earlier this week.
Wow they eat a lot of fast food, you may be thinking. Or even saying. Really we don't, but on occasion we do. Just go with it.
It's baseball season, and during a recent game which TG and I watch with our MLB subscription so that we never miss a Cubs game, Jersey Mike's advertised this sandwich.
I was immediately intrigued because the words "hot honey" have a particular charm to my ear.
So it was that a few weeks later, on a Sunday afternoon when we had Dagny with us, we decided that lunch would be sandwiches from Jersey Mike's. Because I had to try that hot honey chicken cheese steak sub.
Dagny wanted a chipotle chicken sub, so she ordered the half-sandwich version of that. TG and I got the giant size of the hot honey chicken cheese steak, cut in half. This sandwich costs just under twenty dollars.
The lady behind the counter was slightly off. As in, she refused to look up at anyone, and she mumbled. So that, when you were standing there and she was saying something, you could barely hear her and you weren't sure if it was you she was addressing.
But we got through it, and took our sandwiches home and sat down for lunch.
When I tell you that you must try this sandwich, I am not kidding. The Jersey Mike's Hot Honey Chicken Cheese Steak is money. Scrumptious. Just the right amount of heat. Exceptionally fresh and tasty ingredients. Everything and I mean everything, that a hot sub sandwich should be.
On top of the succulent flaked chicken which is tender and flavorful, they put slicing pepperoni as well as American cheese and onion. Then they drizzle the hot honey and the result is spectacular.
Our beautiful Allissa is seventeen
I could not forget that sandwich but I let about three weeks elapse before deciding that it was time to have another one. My mouth was watering just thinking about it.
This was last Monday. We'd had a busy day. Some workmen were at the house well into the dinner hour, repairing the through-the-wall unit in our sun room. It was seven o'clock before they left.
And that was the exact time that the Cubs home game was set to start (after a wee rain delay), and so I asked TG, who already had one small errand to run, if he'd go by the Jersey Mike's (it is a scant two miles from our house) and get us a Hot Honey Chicken Cheese Steak.
He said sure, and I settled in to watch the game, dreaming of the scrumptiousness of that sandwich.
TG returned home and we got our plates ready and took them to the TV room to continue watching the game.
After a few bites, I looked at my sandwich. The perfectly cooked, spicy and tasty chicken was there. But the slicing pepperoni, the American cheese, the onions, and the hot honey were missing. Just not there.
I called the Jersey Mike's. I explained the situation to the friendly young lady who answered the phone. She asked if we had our receipt. I said yes.
She said, Would you like your money back? I hadn't really thought that far ahead and I just said words to the effect of, well what I want is to be eating the sandwich that we ordered. And we sort of left it at that.
But after we'd eaten our plain chicken sandwiches with no pepperoni, no cheese, no onion, and no hot honey, TG decided to take his receipt back over there and see if they'd at least comp us a sandwich for a future date.
Dagny and her cousin Rhett are attached to one another
He returned home a bit later and pronounced that attempt as having been a total disaster. Not only would they do nothing to compensate us for being given an incorrect order, but they accused TG of not ordering it correctly.
It was all his fault, the lady (not the nice one who I talked to on the phone aand who offered us our money back, but the one who mumbles and will not look at you) behind the counter said. You ordered the chicken sixteen and that's how it comes.
TG said: But I pointed at the big placard to the left of the display menu behind the counter, and said I want that one, the hot honey one.
(The Hot Honey Chicken Cheese Steak is the only hot sub on the Jersey Mike's menu that features hot honey.)
She ignored him. You already ate it and we're not giving you nothing, is a paraphrase of her reply.
Can you imagine treating a customer like that? They come to you with their receipt and tell you that you got their order wrong, and you argue with them, blame them, and send them away with zero reason to feel like ever visiting Jersey Mike's again.
It sort of reminded me of this odd experience that you may remember that we had, about a year ago. It was at the Runway Cafe at the Greenville Downtown Airport.
You can sit in the windows which double as walls and watch small planes land and take off while enjoying a hamburger and fries.
Elliot a/k/a Skippy was enthusiastic about all that occurred
That was the time that the extremely testy lady at the counter, after I'd told her what I wanted on my burger, told me that I was required to order by telling her what I did NOT want on my burger.
? ? ? ? ?
That one still amazes me. Super strange.
Anyway, we got through that and we'll get through this too, but it makes me wonder why so many angry people work behind counters where food is ordered and served up, dealing constantly with the public, when they in fact seem to vehemently dislike the public, and cannot admit it when they fail in their mission.
By the way, during college I worked as a waitress. That is hard work, and I loved it. It made me so happy to trot around getting folks what they needed. Good times.
But aside from that, whatever happened to rule number one, the customer is always right? And when in doubt, refer back to rule number one?
I don't want to set the world on fire ... I just want to start a flame in your heart
Seems to have gone with the wind. More's the pity.
The takeaway? When you approach a counter (or the window) in a fast food place, say what you mean and mean what you say. As in, tell them EXACTLY what you want and do not want on that order.
At that point? All I can come up with is, may the odds be ever in your favor.
And that is all for now.
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Happy Thursday
