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Saturday, November 13, 2010

Harrisonburg, Virginia - Clementine's

One of the best things about going to H-burg is probly the drive there if you're coming from the ville during the changing of the leaves -- God's country, sen!  Shit makes you think about how fullfilling putting things to rest (in life, that is) can be, cuz like, you know, the trees are all dieing or whatever, and they look really good doing it, and then they like, re-birth and shit in a few months, and it's all like, "yeah, man, fucking life!".  yes, im stoned.


Definately not a picture i took, but whatever, that's what the shit looked like on the way over.

So we celebrated the release of our new jam at a joint called "Clementine's", and I never found out why exactly the place is called as such, but at the same time, I never tried to find out why.  I'm just gonna go ahead and say it's named after some southern beauty who would get the vapors whenever you said her name in any form of context.
~
southern gentlemen:  "I do declaiyah - it seems as though i done wiped my ass too much and got a case of the ol' hemorroides, Clementine.  I say, I might have to apply some sassperella to my anus piece."

southern beauty named Clementine:  "Oh, mercy!  these vapors would make me faint if i didn't have hopes of you taking me to the fish fry/catillion on good friday, oh heavens!"[continues to make satin dress for catillion whilst not knowing what hemmorides are]

~
I'd date that.  oh yeah, this is a food blog.  food pics!





Mr. Smith and I decided on sharing a couple of plates:  The black bean veggie burger, and the falafel burger.  The black bean jam piece was quite delicious;  it had all the texture and spice you crave after driving on the highway for an hour, but shared the similar fate of all "house-made" veggie burgers in which the mother fucker just falls apart after you're half-way through the dude.  Let's not take away points for this, as this is a problem for every "house-made" veggie burger you'll ever come accross.  Morning Star Farms, we're gunning for your shit.

The falafel burger, however, maintained it's sturdiness throughout all the chomping.  dude was like, "im crispy, and goddammit, im gonna stay crispy" thoughout the whole masticating(im probly gonna use this word a lot from her on out) process.  Points for that, and the red pepper spread -- although, i gotta say, dude could've benefited from some serious sauce action.  a side of tsa-tsiki perhaps? 

recommendations aside, these fuckers held their ground with ahtourity because of the sides. 

1)  Baller French Fries:  it's hard to fuck up a fry, but if you actually get it right, then you just made your meal the righteous titties.  I will totally forget about having to fork and knife the rest of my burger if you know how to crisp some other shit.  these assholes nailed it.  crunchy on the outside, mashed shit on the inside -- DONE.

2)  Grits --  I orginally wanted to make this whole post about grits, but ima save that shit for later.  essentially, these dudes understand that the key to good grits is making them a vessel for fat.  it has NOTHING to do with the grit.  grits are an excuse to consume straight heavy cream, butter, and/or cheese.  in the case of clementine's:  pepper jack cheese.  and they brought it.  some of the best grits i've had south of the mason dixon.

Clementine's in h-burg!  fucking dawg it.

1 comment:

  1. You've had grits north of the Mason-Dixon line? Weird.

    Anyway, that Southern dialogue bit cracked my shit right up.

    ReplyDelete