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Culinary Hatchet - July 2008

Sonic: Accessible, and Alright

After six years of being bombarded with commercials of a magical fast food burger joint with over one hundred thousand drink combinations and "full menu all-day" feature that allows us bums who sleep late to still get breakfast, Sonic opened on the outskirts of St. Paul in late May. A few blocks from my mother's house, I thought it would be an easy stop on my way back home. Hell, it was a week since they opened, the line shouldn't be too bad, right?
"Finally," I thought, "I get to see what all the damn hoopla is about with this Sonic." Not so. As I drive near, I see that Sonic needed it's own police officer to direct traffic into "Staging Areas," which were parking lots filled with cars waiting for the magical Sonic. I left.

In the following weeks, I heard horror stories of three hour waits and expensive food: "A guy I know got a basic California burger with a tiny fries and a drink and it was nine bucks."
This Sonic is the only in the Twin Cities (Minneapolis and Saint Paul), one restaurant for 650,000 people. The six years of advertising in a high population area apparently worked for Sonic, as one hour plus lines in staging areas lasted more than a month. Is this what it's like when a Podunk town gets a McDonalds multiplied by 10,000?
So finally, about 6 weeks after opening, I was driving down Sonic Avenue after a trip to an auto parts store and saw that the staging line for drive-thru was only 2 cars deep. I jumped right in there and waited about ten minutes before I even saw the menu and realized that besides recalling a few years of Sonic "ciabatta" burgers, I didn't really know what they were all about. So, I decided to go simple and get a double cheeseburger with everything, fries, and a cranberry lime-aid. The teen staff was kind of on top of things despite a 17 year old dealing with credit card malfunctions getting in the way of the 16 year old trying to hand me my food. I also witnessed no rollerskating, but I've heard they're there somewhere.

"I've sort of subconsciously waited for six years for this bite." Upon first bite, the burger is pretty basic and pretty tasty. The beef tastes kind of charred, which I like, and the cheese delivers on the saltiness. The fixings aren't rubbery and foul like large chains and the sauces leave no desire for any additions. Good, but not three hours wait good.
The fries were skimped upon and dry. Not even top 5 for fast food joints around town. Tater-tots and onion rings were an offer, but a. I'm not a fan of grade school lunchatorium fare and b. once you've had Porky's onion rings, all others are blasphemous impostors.
The drink was pretty good; a fizzy and tart concoction, but way too sweet. Apparently, there's other drinks I could have gotten but like any situation where you have to make a decision in two minutes, it's likely second thoughts would abound.
So, Sonic is likely here to stay. Is it amazing? Not really, but it's better than most. For anyone who wants a quick, unhealthy treat, Sonic is a good option.

Best Fast Food Burgers (that means a drive through) in the Twin Cities:
Porky's Twinburger
A&W's Papa Buger
Sonic's Double Cheeseburger
Culver's Butter Burger

...and worst:
Burger King's Whopper, Whopper Jr.
McDonalds's cheeseburger, hamburger
Wendy's Minnesota Wild burger

Home of the worst burger on earth: Denny's



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I Love Savory Beans

Aside from Canada, the more obedient English colonies all have an American product that virtually nobody eats in America; Heinz Baked Beans. Instead, we prefer our beans to be loaded with sugar and served alongside...grilled food? No offense to fans of the North American baked bean as I've been known to partake with a nice bratwurst myself. It's just a weird concept the more you think about it....sweet beans.

But when I was living in the South Pacific, most of our groceries came from Australia or New Zealand, and this included "Wattie's Baked Beans." Thinking that they were akin to their American counterpart, I purchased a can of them on one of my first shopping trips, wondering if they were the same beans I had enjoyed with breakfast at the local watering hole. I cooked them up and placed them alongside my fried eggs and toast, and damn is that a great combo for a sodium filled breakfast


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Review: Mancini's Char House

Sad times at Mancini's Char House

Mancini's is a well known, old school bar, and in a separate room, a “Char House,” in Saint Paul, Minnesota. It's located in a neighborhood that used to be home to the overflow of Chicago's mobsters and it's interior is proof. I had been to Mancini's as a bar a few times before. Cheap top shelf drinks, "gangster booths," and Minnesota's strangest getting funky to the Midas Touch, their house band. Back in those days, you could smoke inside, and Mancini's looked like a place that needed a foggy haze to add to it's nostalgic charm. When you're drinking and with friends, you don't need much if you're having fun, and it's definitely a fun place to escape that trendy joint you can't really afford to drink at anyways


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The Food Network and

I have found myself in a social circle fairly close to the "hipsters" seen roaming the trendy, gentrified neighborhoods of most large cities. With hipsters often come forms of elitism, whether it's music, fashion, and even food and drink. I'm guilty, yet increasingly cautious, of hipster elitism too.
My father was a chef at some of the finest restaurants in town, so a lot of my food elitism stemmed from hearing things like, "real chefs don't go to culinary school, they work their way up from the very bottom," and "only idiots eat that crap." I also was eating a weekly surf and turf of filet mignon and fresh lobster tail, as well as knowing what a Your text goes heretapenadeYour text goes here was in fourth grade. He also got me started in my short kitchen career as a dishwasher at 13, prep cook at 14, and line and saute at various places off and on until I was 20. My last "back of the house" job was at a yuppie deli in which I freely (yet against store policy) sampled fine meats, pungent cheeses and befriended sushi chefs who loved making me try exotic sea creatures. Sounds good, but that job was so insufferable that I walked out mid-shift. I served at another place (in which I was also trained in the kitchen) for two years before leaving the restaurant world, never to look back.
To get to the point, I know my way around food more than the average slob, but I still don't know much about gourmet gastronomy. Enter The Food Network to let everyone else know that they're equally qualified as me, if not far more, because they saw Bobby Flay easily whip up some moist chicken breasts on a grill or some other talking head sear a tuna steak. From the mind of the self conscious, hipster elitist


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