Worst Shrimp and Grits of 2013

Hello LilyOnTheLam.Com Readers:

I have been on the road lately, so expect some food tales from various cities in the US in future posts.  When I returned from my travels, I found an acidic-toned note in the elevator admonishing whichever dog owner was allowing their dog to relieve his/her dogself in the elevator.  I thought two things when reading the note - 1) I hope it really is a dog and not one of my geriatric neighbors urinating in the elevator and 2) even though the note was bitchy in tone, the anonymous author chose to print the note in green and red ink.  Happy Holidays, inconsiderate dog owner!  I think the next time I am really catty, I'll throw a sprig of holly at the person after I berate them!  

As part of my "Lily Tours the US" road trip, I spent 2 days stuck in the Washington DC Reagan National airport.  As if Reagan wasn't my favorite President to begin with … now this!  I felt like Tom Hanks in the movie "The Terminal."  I was pretty sure I was never going to leave the airport.  After 2 days of sampling Reagan National airport's restaurants, you would think I would know better … but alas, I seem to never know better!

I was in the Raleigh Durham Airport when I decided to try the 42nd Street Oyster Bar over Gordon Biersch Brewery Restaurant.  Now I love Gordon Biersch, so I should have gone there even though the airport location had a limited menu compared to the brewhouses.  Ahhh hindsight is 20-20.

The menu at 42nd Street Oyster Bar looked great and it was definitely the reason why I made that fateful decision to select it over Gordon Biersch.  It bills itself as a Raleigh institution since 1931 - well that means it has to be good, right?  Sigh.  Never assume.

Even though I am from the Midwest, my tastebuds are from the South.  I decided to see how 42nd Street Oyster Bar handled shrimp and grits.  Another decision I would come to regret. 

The shrimp and grits was advertised as sautéed shrimp, mushrooms in a tasso ham gravy with low country grits with Gouda cheese and sourdough toast.

What I received was this …

Where's the shrimp?

I seriously thought a mistake had been made when I received the dish.  What were those yellow shredded things?  Hash browns?  (Unfortunately, hash browns are on my mind an inordinate and inexplicable amount of time).  Where are the shrimp?  Where are the grits?  What the heck is this soupy, gloppy mess?

Turns out this indeed was the shrimp and grits.  Three shrimp were buried under a lava-hot slathering of spicy ham gravy on top of a bed of incredibly watery grits.  The yellow shreds were Gouda-cheese that were impervious to melting, even though the heat of the entree was at least 600 degrees Fahrenheit.  I could have roasted s'mores over the heat from this dish.  

I shoved my fork into the liquidy mess and eventually found a shrimp.  (Evidently I was an explorer in a past life.)  I was surprised that the shrimp was not pure rubber after swimming around in such incredibly hot liquid grits and gravy.  Shockingly, the shrimp was cooked perfectly.  Maybe they had thrown it in frozen because nothing could survive such a volcanic stew. 

Unfortunately, the tasso ham gravy was like eating a basket of ghost peppers.  I love spicy hot food, but my tongue would have had to have had an asbestos liner to eat this glop.  It was the most painful sensation ever.  My tongue jumped out of my mouth and screamed "WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME?"  

The grits had no taste - watery wallpaper paste.  The waxy plastic Gouda was bringing nothing to the dish.  What a waste of cheese!  And the tasso ham gravy overpowered everything in the nearby tri-state area.  

Surprise, surprise - the sourdough toast was shockingly tasty - the only decent thing about the dish.  Reminiscent of fresh sourdough from San Francisco.  I dipped the toast into the gravy but even a droplet of the gravy was too hot for my tastebuds.  I ended up eating the bread dry.  It was only shrimp and toast for this girl.  

I fished out two more average-sized shrimp from the spicy muck and ate those -- and that's all I could do.  I was pretty sure my taste buds had died from the searing heat - both in spice and temperature.  How does one commemorate taste buds?  What kind of floral arrangement do you send to the funeral?

As we approach the end of 2013, I can whole-heartedly announce that the shrimp and grits at 42nd Street Oyster Bar were the worst shrimp and grits I have had all year, and truly even all decade.  Save your taste buds and your tongue and do not order this dish unless you like entrees that could sear flesh.