Chain Restaurants

Elephant Bar (Emphasis on Bar)


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Elephant Bar (Emphasis on Bar)

ChinoWayne | Aug 16, 2006 03:08 AM

I am repeating part of an old post here in response to a recco for the Elephannt Bar on the L.A. board:

The Chino Wayne’s figured that the Peppermill in
Sacramento would be a good omen for a pit stop, in that its
interior was tele-ported directly from a Las Vegas casino. The
Chino Wayne’s drove two blocks past the location of the
Peppermill restaurant, passing El Torito, site of the first and last
(as in never again) road trip in which the Mother-In-Law-Of-Chino
Wayne preached on the evils of drink through an entire dinner, as
a prelude to the vacation from Hell, before realizing that the
Sacramento Peppermill was no more.

Instead, where the Peppermill once stood there arose an
Elephant Bar. So Hungry, and really needing a pit stop, the Chino
Wayne’s pulled in to the apparently recently opened in
Sacramento, Elephant bar. As in the one and only previous
experience at an Elephant Bar, it was decorated nicely and
expensively, and there were young men and young women staff
running hither and yon. Ultimately it seemed that is what the staff
are best at in this establishment, running hither and yon, but
never with enough time to refill a glass.

Mrs. Chino Wayne ordered the “Safari Sampler” and Chino
Wayne ordered the sliced tri-tip. Mr. and Mrs. Chino Wayne knew
fully well that, despite the large, open kitchen, this joint exists to
sell drinks. Chino Wayne has also deduced that in order to pay
for all of the expensive atmospheric décor, besides selling
drinks, they must also have cut a deal with the glue factory in
order to score cheap provisions. The Safari Sampler consisted of
some ersatz barbecued baby back ribs, some Buffalo wings, and
some strips of beef for fajitas. It came with fries and baked beans
and coleslaw. The Mrs. ate all of her ribs, because she was
hungry, and is a rib-a-holic, she tasted one wing and passed the
rest to Chino Wayne, and tried to unravel one of the two flour
tortillas that were apparently rolled up together, then steamed (or
micro-waved) and then put on the plate. The tortillas, in their
rolled, intimate and warm state, came apart as the Mrs. tried to
unroll them. The Mrs. tasted gristle when she was finally able to
construct a fajita. So Chino Wayne scored the remaining wings,
which were meaty, and mild as they were apparently only covered
in Tabasco and nothing more potent. Chino Wayne also took care
of the remaining meat, which was not gristly, together with the
accompanying fried peppers and onions. Mrs. Chino Wayne
would not touch the beans, ever considerate of her fellow traveler,
but Chino Wayne took a taste, they were probably the best item
on the plate. The Mrs. reported that the coleslaw was sadly
lacking in dressing.

Chino Wayne’s medium-rare tri-tip came medium. Chino Wayne
had expected that he might have tasted some additional flavor
elements that might have come from a marinade or a rub, but
instead he just tasted ordinary, tough, meat. Chino Wayne
surmised that the lack of flavorings was another way of paying for
the décor. There were some nice vegetables on Chino Wayne’s
plate, some sliced carrots, zucchini and celery. All were cooked al
dente and still had some bite to them, and the celery, while not
usually encountered in this permutation, was very nice and
crunchy and complimented the other two vegetables. There was
also a clod of garlic mashed potatoes, that did not taste of garlic
at all. This was one of the strangest permutations of mashed
potatoes that Chino Wayne has ever encountered, as they had
the consistency of flannel, and held their shape, similar to the
way sand holds it shape when wet sculpted and then dried. They
must have been prepared hours earlier, and then held in a
warming oven. The unremarkable tri-tip, then redeemed itself, at
least slightly, as Chino Wayne was able to hack off hunks of
potato “aggregate” and soak them in the meat juices and make
them a bit more palatable. Chino Wayne had also started with a
Caesar salad, which like the coleslaw, was suspiciously devoid
of more than a teaspoon of dressing. Thus Chino Wayne
registered further credence to his theory that the décor was
financed, at least in part, by a lack of condiments. The Chino
Wayne’s passed on dessert, and obligingly turned the table over
to management, as by this time the Elephant Bar was packed,
with, apparently, the non ‘houndly masses. The entrees at
Elephant Bar ran about $13.00, some of the theme concoctions
in the bar also approach that price point.

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