NCAA Opening Round Munchies: Sprint Center 1/2 Lb. KC BBQ Dog + Grinders Tacos

March Madness -- it’s not always pretty.

Went to the first day of the 2009 NCAA Tournament's opening round at the Sprint Center with some friends on Thursday, and grabbed lunch while I was there. Now I don’t know for sure that during the construction of the Sprint Center there was an ongoing top-secret development process underway to create a signature Kansas City-related menu item, but I like to think there was. And whoever said “let’s just throw some brisket on an unnecessarily large hot dog” deserves a raise.

The 1/2 Lb. KC BBQ Dog is a ridiculously huge all beef hot dog, topped with brisket plus onion straws and “famous” barbecue sauce. About the only thing that could make it more Kansas City is if the sauce was from Arthur Bryant’s or Gates or one of the other estimated 17 gazillion barbecue joints here in town, rather than being a sauce vaguely called “famous.” Which I’m pretty sure is code for “we buy it by the vatful.” Keeping in mind that arena food is always overpriced, at $8 I don’t feel like I got fleeced too bad, either. Not so much with my $4 soda.

Between sessions we went to Grinders, and I got the Thursday special of three for a dollar tacos. I knew they’d be fantastic when the waitress told me they were taking a while because they were “still on the grill.” Grilled tacos!

Sure enough, they were way delicious. Even though the tacos are grilled, they actually come out pretty soft, filled with seasoned taco meat and melted cheese -- picture a floppy quesadilla. This is about the closest I’ve come to Amigos soft tacos since that outfit closed up shop around here.

Finally, here is some expert Lunch Blog tournament commentary -- and by “expert,” we mean it’s all about the mascots and pep bands.

• There was no way the Maryland Terrapins weren’t going to win -- they had turtle power! Seriously, Testudo the Diamondback Turtle busted out some sweet moves every time the pep band played the “Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles” theme. Meanwhile, the California Golden Bear was just kind of aimlessly meandering around with his hands behind his back. Lame. I hate the California Golden Bear.
• Pep Band of the Day goes to the Morgan State Bear Pep Band -- they turned up the funk and went band camp all over Estelle’s “American Boy” and others. Mad grooves and so much fun to watch, especially the guys rocking the cymbals. If I was in a kung fu movie, I’d want them to be my soundtrack. The Morgan State Bear even breakdanced. (Brokedanced?)
• In a fight between Pouncer the Tiger from Memphis and the Clemson Tiger, the Clemson Tiger would win. However, in a dance-off, it’s Pouncer, no contest.
• Note to the CSU Northridge pep band: “Handlebars” by Flobots is an intriguing choice, but it’s not working for you guys. Also, your mascot Matty the Matador and Jay Leno are one and the same.
  

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Grinders: 417 East 18th St. | Kansas City, MO 64108

BK Burger Shots + BK Tacos

Boldly breaking the $10 BK Barrier.

En route to Burger King to get some BK Burger Shots, Nick and I started reminiscing about BK Tacos. They were kind of like those mini-taco appetizers you can get at some T.G.I. McGillicutty’s-type establishments, but greasier and in full-size taco form. Turned out Nick was a fan of BK Tacos as well, and we lamented how they were cruelly discontinued in the KC region.

Moments after we got in line, Nick pointed to the BK Favorites menu and simply said, “Tacos.” Sixth Street Lawrence Burger King, I love you.

That’s how I ended up northwards of $10 for lunch at Burger King. One order of tacos, plus a six-pack of Burger Shots with cheese combo, which I upsized so I could take the monster soda back to work with me. Total: $10.17. There was a surprise bonus onion ring in my Frypod -- maybe that’s my reward for dropping a Hamilton.

The Burger Shots weren’t bad, but they’re not going to satisfy any cravings for White Castle or Krystal sliders. They’re actually just your standard BK cheeseburgers, all tinyfied. Same unmistakable BK flame-broiled taste. Burger Shots come in a six-pack (too many) and a two-pack (too few). King, I humbly beseech ye for a Double Stacker Burger Shot or a Loaded Steakhouse Burger Shot.

The tacos, however, were as awesome as I remember. BK Tacos are a fried taco shell filled with like a ground beef meat paste, lettuce, a slice of cheese (not shredded but a slice), and hot sauce. They’re neither truly a hard nor a soft taco -- even though the wrapper says “crispy,” that’s really only true around the edges. The closer you get to the middle, the taco gets deliciously chewy.

The deal is, either you’re on board with BK Tacos or you’re not. I’ll admit, the first time I tried them was out of pure curiosity -- but man if I didn’t dig them. Back then they were priced at $1.09 for two.

Now an order of two BK Tacos costs $1.99. And they will only sell them to you two at a time. Want three? Too bad. Buy four and throw one away. I understand these are pretty much the same tacos you can get at Jack in the Box, although I couldn’t say for sure since we don’t have Jack in the Boxes around here.

On the way out, Nick picked up a Burger King crown. Printed on the inside are rules for BK-related games you can play -- none of which are a Burger Shots Eat-Off. I’d be all over that.

The Whatafarm

Dreams come true.

As chronicled here, my previous attempt to get a Whatafarm resulted in the lady at the counter looking at me like I was a total wackjob -- she had zero idea what I was talking about.

And why should she? It turned out that the Whatafarm isn’t an actual menu item. Rather, it’s a burger Frankensteined together from parts of other sandwiches -- burger patty, fried chicken breast, bacon and a fried egg. But thanks to the Whataburger company philosophy of “Just Like You Like It,” while you can’t order a Whatafarm by name, they’ll still make it for you. You just have to tell them how.

So now knowing the full story, I drew a diagram to take with me, and made plans to go to Whataburger on Sunday morning with my sister Charlotte and cousin Corry during my most recent trip to Louisiana. (You have to go during breakfast hours to get the fried egg.)

“Hello,” the cashier greeted us when we walked in. “Welcome to Whataburger.”

“Hello,” I said. We locked eyes intensely -- she knew I meant business. I precisely withdrew the diagram from my classy leather portfolio, placed it on the counter, paused briefly for effect, and then slid it toward her with authority. “We’d like three of these, please.” This may have all been followed with a sideways head nod for even greater emphasis.

The cashier called somebody else to the front, and I feared this was all about to go south, but really she just needed help figuring out how to ring up the sandwich. She ended up doing it as a Whataburger, add cheese, bacon, a chicken filet and egg. The grand total for one Whatafarm plus tax was $7.70.

She also complimented my diagram.

The entire time our sandwiches were being made, there was one guy in the back giving me crazy eyes. He seemed to be waging an internal battle as whether or not to state his conscientious objection to the very notion of the Whatafarm -- for like Skynet, just because you can build something doesn’t mean you should. It could destroy us all!

And then on top of that, he was starting to get angry that he even had to wrestle with this ridiculous sandwich-related moral dilemma -- hence the crazy eyes. Or at least that’s what I think was going on in his head.

The two employees that brought us our Whatafarms stood by to watch the grand unveiling -- mine was so huge I could barely take a bite. We didn’t specifically ask for veggies, but that’s how they made them, and I think that really enhanced the overall “an entire farm in a burger” experience. Bravo.

When those two employees went on break a few minutes later, they totally ordered themselves a couple of Whatafarms of their own. We all agreed -- the Whatafarm is delicious.

But of course it’s delicious. It’s a burger plus fried chicken plus bacon. Only the fried egg might some find questionable. Personally, I’m a fan of fried eggs on burgers.

This was a long time coming. So was the Whatafarm awesome? Yes, it was awesome. Was the Whatafarm worth the wait? Yes, it was worth the wait.

I will never order one again.
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Lunch Blog would like to take this opportunity to give much-deserved credit to alanbeam.net -- true creators of the Whatafarm. You are men of great vision, and we salute you.

KenTacoHut, the Famous Bowl & the KFC Big Box Meal

Talk about an Appetite for Destruction.

[Note: Many of the events chronicled here took place the day Chinese Democracy came out, Sunday, Nov. 23, 2008 -- also the date I started writing this post. So while what follows is by no means timely, the delay is kind of appropriate, all things considered.]

I’d been waiting for this day since my junior year at East High. Back then, Use Your Illusion I & II were pretty much the soundtrack to lunch. We’d crank those albums as we headed to one of our usual spots, top three in the rotation being Taco Bell, KFC, and Dog & Shake (the latter a Wichita, Kan. favorite). So to properly commemorate the release of Chinese Democracy -- “Music’s Most Anticipated Album EVER” -- step two had to be grabbing something to eat at KenTacoHut.

If only there was such a thing as a KenTacoDog&Shake. If only.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. What was step one of the proper commemoration, you ask? Enjoying some Ten High, the preferred bourbon of high schoolers everywhere. Shaw and I conquered this task in the Best Buy parking lot before we went in to get my copy of Chinese Democracy. (On vinyl, thank you.) I was surprised to see there wasn't a line at Best Buy -- I thought for sure we'd have to wait around at least a little bit what with Chinese Democracy nearly 15 years in the making. Not so much. Since we had a little extra time before KenTacoHut opened, we took the opportunity to conquer step one again.

There was already one guy outside KenTacoHut when we got there, waiting to pick up like a dozen buckets of the Colonel’s legacy for a Chiefs tailgate party. Thus, at least in Overland Park this Sunday morning, there was a greater demand for KFC then GNR. OPKS, you are not a city of rock.

Once they let us in and dude had his chicken, I stepped up to the KFC counter and ordered a Famous Bowl. That’s Popcorn Chicken, mashed potatoes, corn, gravy, and cheese all layered in a bowl together. I’d had a morbid curiosity about this thing for a while.

Clearly the most likely explanation for the origin of the Famous Bowl is that a bunch of KFC bigwigs used dark magic to conjure forth the Colonel from the great beyond so that they might seek his guidance, to which the Colonel -- now undead and none too happy about it -- said, “I say now boy, just put a bunch of stuff in a bowl, you hear?,” right before he ate the brains of all but one survivor who lived to tell the tale. The Famous Bowl is that sinister.

On the other hand, there is Popcorn Chicken in it and that’s delicious, so how bad could the Famous Bowl be?

The answer is that the Famous Bowl was surprisingly tasty. For four bites. And then it all went to hell. The Popcorn Chicken turned soggy and the chicken-potato-gravy ratio got hopelessly thrown out of whack and it was just no good. Which is too bad because the Famous Bowl is kind of big -- you’re going to end up with a lot left.

KFC, against my better judgment I might be compelled to try your Famous Bowl a second time if you came out a smaller version, like about the size of a pudding cup. You could call it the B-List Famous Bowl. Or make people order it Child Star Sized.

Shaw and I ended up taking turns holding big sporkfuls of our leftover Famous Bowls upside down to see how long it would take for gravity to do its business. We topped out close to 30 seconds.

Feeling like I needed to take advantage of more that KenTacoHut had to offer, I also ordered a Chili Cheese Burrito and a Volcano Taco from Taco Bell, and quickly learned a valuable lesson -- it’s probably not the best idea to go to Taco Bell before noon, and you certainly never want to be the first order of the day. Taco Bell needs a little bit of time to warm up and find its groove.

Earlier while waiting for our food, we took notice of a display hawking the KFC Big Box Meal. It consists of:

• Your choice of a drumstick or thigh, either Original Recipe or Extra Crispy
• Whatever variety of KFC Snacker you want
• Two Original Recipe Crispy Strips
• Two sides, a biscuit and a large drink
  

Three days later on Thanksgiving Eve with nowhere better to go for lunch, we found ourselves at a different KFC ready to check that action out.

We each got it with an Original Recipe thigh and a Buffalo KFC Snacker. It was good. As well it should be -- it’s a box full of fried chicken-related awesomeness. Even if we agreed that the thigh was the weak link in all this.

See, in the KFC Big Box Meal, you’ve already got a KFC Snacker plus Crispy Strips and a couple of different sauces to dip them in. If KFC wants its actual traditional fried chicken to come off as anything more than a greasy afterthought, they need to give you a fried chicken breast, or at least two pieces like a drumstick and a thigh, or maybe two drumsticks. Not two thighs, though -- somehow it seems like that would be even more unremarkable.

For a solitary thigh or drumstick cannot hold its own all by itself -- it’s just not enough to make an impact. To truly function at full capacity, it needs to accompany another piece of bone-in fried chicken. I would’ve happily traded in the thigh for a few bites of Popcorn Chicken.

The sides were good -- we both went with mashed potatoes, and macaroni and cheese. However, we must note that in the world of fast food fried chicken side dishes, they’re all completely owned by the red beans and rice at Popeyes.

Make no mistake, we’re fans of the KFC Big Box Meal. Quite frankly, what it all boils down to is that we’re suckers for ridiculous quantities of food that comes in a box. It’s like a Happy Meal for adults. The only thing missing is a cool toy surprise to distract you from thinking about the fact that in one sitting you just ate like a total of nine chickens.

That said, if KFC wanted to throw a Child Star Sized Famous Bowl in the box, I certainly wouldn’t be opposed.
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KenTacoHut: 7100 West 119th Street | Overland Park, KS 66213

The Brick

Or, the harrowing tale of “The Great Meatloaf Shortage of ’08.”

I remember being really surprised by how good the food was at The Brick the first time I had it when I was there for Trivia Riot one Friday night years ago. Until then, I only knew the dive as a cool place to see rock shows. But I was hungry and the meatloaf sandwich was noted on the menu as the house favorite, so that’s what I got. It was so delicious that I haven’t had anything else there since -- save one Tuesday when we went for Guys’ Night to play bingo and the food special was all-you-can-eat tacos. Which was a perfect complement to the beer special of all-you-can-drink PBR.

Our table at lunch last Friday ordered a grand total of four meatloaf sandwiches -- Wells, Dylan and Strickler each got one, while Shaw and I decided to split that and a Chicago-style hot dog. Moments later, the waiter returned and told us they only had enough meatloaf for three.

Wells’ instinct for self-preservation kicked in and without hesitation he said, “One of those is mine.” Seeing how The Brick was Strickler’s suggestion and Dylan had never had the meatloaf sandwich, Shaw and I chose to make no claim on the remaining two. We’re good people like that, here at Lunch Blog. Instead, we opted to get the Scimeca’s Famous Italian Steak.

We totally choked on that call -- the Italian steak sandwich was tasty enough, with a breaded, juicy pork patty and plenty of mozzarella, but ultimately no substitute for the meatloaf sandwich we wanted so desperately that everybody else was enjoying yet we'd regrettably passed up in a dumb moment of misplaced good will. We should’ve at least gone with The Pubby, a burger “Served at This Location Since 1967,” and loaded up with bleu cheese, bacon and an onion ring.

I can’t stress how much you are messing up if you haven’t had the meatloaf sandwich. It’s a slice of meatloaf with chipotle ketchup and pepper jack cheese on wheatberry bread. We’re talking a pretty thick slab of meatloaf, too. Later I was wondering why they didn’t just slice what meatloaf they did have into four pieces instead of a mere three. I mean, ba-dam -- problem solved. Only reason I could come up with is that maybe The Brick’s secret ingredient is pride. Pride in a sandwich well made.

Our table also split an order of Singapore wings. Coated in a slightly spicy ginger sauce, they were just kind of eh. Can’t for the life of me remember why we thought ordering Asian food at The Brick was a good idea in the first place, much less why the price of $10.95 for a dozen didn’t give us pause.

Same story on the Chicago dog -- okay but nothing special. Must remember to only get these from street vendors, or when I’m actually in Chicago. It’s got to be rough being an average entree when you’re sharing space on a menu with something as awesome as the meatloaf sandwich.

If I had last Friday's lunch to do all over again, I would totally tell Dylan tough luck, buddy -- I got dibs on that meatloaf sandwich.

My Secret Brick Fantasy: My waiter hands me a PBR plus half a meatloaf sandwich wrapped in some kind of wax paper for easy eating. Then he says, “Hey, I’m really sorry, but we need to clear out the tables because Doris Henson is about to play a reunion show right this very second.” All of a sudden, I look around and the place is packed and the band opens with “The Power” and I get to get rocked while munching on a meatloaf sandwich. Could it get better than that?
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1727 McGee | Kansas City, MO 64108

Taco Bell Volcano Taco & Triple Steak Burrito + BarQuest: The Sand Trap

Take that, “Dante’s Peak” Taco!

“Looks like Dos Hombres is Closed Hombres.”

That’s what Dorsett said when he called Shaw and I on the way to this month’s Guys’ Night at Dos Hombres in Red Bridge, where they were supposed to have all-you-can-eat tacos on Tuesday nights. Thwarted! Scrambling for a Plan B, we opted to hit Taco Bell before going on an expedition for BarQuest, the continuing search for a neighborhood bar worth hanging out at in my area of town.

I’d been jonesing to try the Volcano Taco, and for 99¢ it wasn’t bad. Near as I can tell, it’s your standard Taco Bell crunchy taco in a red shell with one major difference -- lava sauce, a kind of politely spicy nacho cheese. Shaw’s Volcano Taco, however, was severely under-lavaed. Taco Bell, if you are going to call it a Volcano Taco, there better be Mt. Vesuvius amounts of lava sauce on there. Otherwise, it’s nothing but a red taco.

I was also excited to try the new Triple Steak Burrito, which looked way beyond the limits of awesome when I saw a commercial for it amidst drinking heroic amounts of beer at the Crawl For Cancer last Saturday. Yeah, one bite in, and I realized how wrong it is to pay $3.99 for anything at Taco Bell. I mean, for a couple dollars more I could go to Chipotle.

Besides, even though the Triple Steak Burrito’s “authentic” carne asada steak and fire-roasted salsa are pretty good, there’s Taco Bell rice in there. That’s fine in a Grilled Stuft Burrito where quantity of fillings is what it’s about, but in any other case, Taco Bell rice adds zero. All it does is take up space. Full disclosure: I’ve got a major aversion to Taco Bell rice stemming from my disappointment with the Cheesy Beefy Melt and how it turned out to be like one-third rice. That’s not a Cheesy Beefy Melt. That’s a Cheesy Beefy Ricey Melt -- and might as well be a Cheesy Beefy Sawdust Melt.

Not exactly sure what I thought the Triple Steak referred to when I saw the commercial. Certainly I didn’t believe there were three kinds of steak in it. Okay, I did, but cut me some slack -- to prove how much we truly despise cancer, we were dominating the beers big time. Rather, it’s called the Triple Steak Burrito because it’s got three times the steak of a Steak Burrito Supreme. Which I’ll go ahead and point out is so supreme, they don’t bother putting rice in it.

At $3.99, the Triple Steak Burrito made me nostalgic for the long gone 59¢ 79¢ 99¢ menu, when hardly anything the Bell served broke the $1 barrier. Aside from the Volcano Taco, I’m having a hard time getting excited about anything on the current 79¢ 89¢ 99¢ Why Pay More? Value Menu. Cheese Roll-Up? Eh. I so took for granted the days when I could get a Double Decker Taco or a Chili Cheese Burrito for less than a G. Washington. Such sweet memories.

En route to Taco Bell, we passed The Sand Trap at Blue Ridge & Holmes, and decided to give it a shot for BarQuest. (In a future entry, I’ll try to recap expeditions thus far to the Daily Limit and R.C.’s Back Door Bar & Grill.) With some links-related decor and Golden Tee, The Sand Trap was friendly enough -- they gave us a free round and kept the popcorn coming. But ultimately this place just wasn’t our speed. Especially considering none of the guys in attendance actually play golf.

The Sand Trap also has a Target Toss Pro: Bags machine, of which Shaw observed, “Perhaps the only thing I have less interest in playing than Bags: The Video Game, is playing Bags in real life.”
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The Sand Trap: 13037 Holmes | Kansas City, MO 64145

The Foundry

Retrolicious.

I’ll say it right now, I love a lot of crappy food. That’s not to say “food that is terrible” -- more like “food that is terrible for you.” That also seems to be the central philosophy of The Foundry, the new bar and restaurant from the McCoy’s crew. The Foundry totally embraces the feel good times of the ‘70s turning into the ‘80s through its décor, design and utter disregard for what you’re putting in your body. And I couldn’t be happier.

The first time I went to The Foundry was for some Friday lunchtime culinary Armageddon with Zach, Scott and Wells. I almost ordered the gorgonzola-stuffed Bleu Moon Burger, before choosing a different burger, the Velveeta-stuffed Juicy Lucy with a side of onion rings. Scott got the Juicy Lucy, too, while Zach liked the sound of the buffalo chicken Kid Dyn-O-Mite sandwich and fries. Wells got the Bubba Melt, a half-pound burger topped with onion rings, American cheese, Dr Pepper barbecue sauce and mayo. But then he really made the rest of us look like amateurs by adding on the Loaded Tots. Piled with chili, cheese and sour cream, these tots handily trumped all our other sides.

When our burgers arrived, those of us preparing to experience a Juicy Lucy were issued a warning to let it sit for five minutes or risk a hot cheese explosion. The Juicy Lucy comes wrapped in paper like you’re at an old school burger joint, probably to help contain the molten cheese core until it cools to a less face-melting temperature. The wait was worth it -- the Juicy Lucy is a delicious monstrosity that any cigarette-smoking black-and-white television doctor would be falling over himself to recommend.

The Foundry also boasts a wide array of beers and unique mixed drinks, the Buzz Aldrin Tangtini being the only instance I’ve ever seen of using Pop Rocks to lace the rim of a glass. In the course of waiting for our food, we discovered that the red, blush and white house wines translated respectively to Mad Dog, Boone’s Farm Strawberry Hill and Riunite. Spotting our co-worker Schlosser eating at another table with his wife, we sent over a glass of the house blush with our compliments -- a gesture they later returned. Classy ‘til the end, those two.

I liked The Foundry so much I insisted we do the next Guys’ Night there so Robert could check it out. Getting the Juicy Lucy was no question, but with too many contenders for a second entrée, we took that as an opportunity to order the Loaded Tots for an appetizer to help get the wheels turning while we contemplated our order over a couple of the McCoy's beers that were on special. Although a number of the sandwiches sounded tasty, we ended up going with the El Diablo, a pizza with chorizo sausage, barbecue chicken, red onion, pepper jack cheese, smoked gouda, mozzarella, provolone, fire-roasted salsa, jalapenos and siriracha hot sauce. Truly we cannot resist the prospect of spicy food.

A bit disappointing that somehow El Diablo turned out to be way milder than anticipated. I think maybe it was trying to do so much that the end result turned into kind of a jumbled mess. However, its excellent pale ale crust would probably go well with any of the more traditional pies.

El Diablo notwithstanding, I’ll be heading back to The Foundry for more soon. This is the kind of place where you can’t go wrong with a majority of the menu, so fear not about trying something new. Here’s a simple rule to follow: If it sounds like it’ll be good, it probably will be. If it sounds suspect, like in the case of the Kissinger -- salmon on a pizza? -- just say no. Nancy Reagan has your back.
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424 Westport Road | Kansas City, MO 64111