McNally's Irish Pub - Bangers & Mashed, Guinness Meatloaf, and Whatnot

YES...this is past due. But the Lunch Lizardz are back on the horse! (I think our stupid jobs got in the way or something) This one's from March...and we'll be sharing another adventure with you that we just had TODAY...very soon.

Four guys search for daring and bold lunch sustenance about once a month. The goal is to please and shock their palates while defeating lunchtime monotony. And then share the results with you...flexing their creative writing muscle. 

In every post, each contributing "author" will briefly share their recent dining experience at a specially-selected local eatery in Sioux Falls or the surrounding area. 
Here is their latest adventure...

Lunch Lizardz

McNally’s Irish Pub - Sioux Falls, SD

“Bangers and Mashed, Guinness Meatloaf, and whatnot”

Thursday, March 14, 2013

(3 days before St. Patty’s Day…2 days before Americans celebrated it)

McScooter 

So, where can you get “LOADED” for lunch without takin’ ONE sip-o’-ale? McNally’s Irish Pub…of course! Believe me, after the mornin’ I had that dreary Thursday prior to St. Patty’s Day, I was tempted to slug a half-dozen “Big Gingers” at high Noon and call it lunch. A “Big Ginger” is a refreshing cocktail featuring Irish whiskey mixed with ginger ale and served on the rocks. By the luck-o’-the-Irish, I noticed the BIG BOSS MAN of the Lizardz on the other side of the restaurant, lunching with a friend. Thus, my decision to settle for Bangers and Mashed…“LOADED”. I’ll break it down for you Americans. Bangers are tasty hand-made sausages, that happen to come from Look’s Meat Market, located right next door. I wonder if there’s a sausage pipeline runin’ from the butcher shop to McNally’s kitchen. Anyway, “LOADED” means the mashed (potatoes) are infused with garlic, cheese, crumbled bacon and sour cream. If THAT’S not enough of a cholesterol injection for ya, the tater-goo is smothered in Guinness mushroom gravy. And I’m guessing there’s some sort of magical dust derived from the poppy plant that’s sprinkled over the whole affair. Yes, I’ll be voluntarily admitting myself into treatment on March 32nd for a sudden addiction to Bangers. As my grandma Pearl would say…and I’m sure other fans of McNally’s Bangers and Mashed would agree…GOODNESS, GODNESS, AGNES, ALICE and EFFIE…that was one SPECTACULAR meal! 

McNally’s was VERY well put-together, much like our server that day. Buy me a Guinness some day, and I’ll tell you in great detail my eye-witness account of her assisting a customer with a clogged mustard bottle. Ever seen the Harlem Shake? I digress. When you want to get your Irish on, McNally’s is the real deal. I’m intrigued by a couple of things there. “Snugs” are the name of those private Catholic confessional-like booths along the west wall. Feel free to admit to your sins or commit a few new ones in a “Snug”! And if you notice a shorter, narrower door next to the main entrance…no, it’s not for the owner’s green-dyed Standard Poodle to let herself in and out when nature calls. It’s the Leprechaun door! I’m serious. How thoughtful. Don’t let Bono of U2 know about this. He’ll start a crusade to get oppressed Leprechauns their own parking spaces too. Final thought about McNally’s. Ever tired to maneuver the obstacle course parking lot after a half-dozen Big Gingers? If you make it out of there successfully, you’ll make it home just fine. 

The graphic to the right is of my absolute FAVORITE St. Patty’s Day button. My dear dad, Stew, handed a few of these down to me. Years ago, he earned them for being Schlitz “Customer o’ the Month”…for March.




Murph 

Once inside the leprechaun door at McNally’s it hits you… this place is sweet! Not high-brow or expensive… just friggin’ solid and timeless from floor to copper ceiling accents. We’re talkin’ UBER nice. Whoa! Did that just happen? A German word used to describe an Irish place? Yup.

Speaking of ethnicity, I have a confession to make. I know this is a food blog, but bear with me a moment while I cleanse my soul.

As you might have guessed, I am Irish American. Fifth generation off the boat… a fact rarely embraced and NEVER celebrated. This is because Irish Americans tend to be the most obnoxious people on the entire planet. Don’t believe me? Ask the Irish. They HATE us! According to them we drink too much, talk too loud, and spread ignorant stereotypes about Irish culture. The only thing the Irish like about us is the millions of US dollars spent every year by tourists tracking down that 0.01% of their ancestral gene pool. Other than that, they flat out can’t stand to be near us!

But here’s the thing… at McNally’s one feels UBER proud to be an Irish American.

It’s not about celebrating St. Patrick’s like it’s amateur hour (okay, if you absolutely must… ). I’m talking about family, courage, hard work, and outrageous progress. Sitting at McNally’s it occurs to me that no other ethnic group embodies the American Dream quite like the Irish Americans. Starvation, religious persecution, utter poverty, given little more than an opportunity to fail with little or no education or expertise, armed with nothing more than blood, sweat, and shear pissed-off determination, they somehow managed to wildly succeed achieving generational prosperity beyond the loftiest dreams of their ancestors.

This is what it means to be Irish and American. And so I celebrate here at McNally’s. I’ll have the Bangers and Mash please with a Big Ginger on the side. What’s that? BIG GINGER, TWO GINGERS, WHATEVER THE HELL! Oh I’m sorry, please pardon my Irish.



Dewey

Ok...so I'm a Guinness beer fan. It's just about the only beer my wife and I have in our fridge (along with Grain Belt Premium). But nobody pours a better glass of Guinness in Sioux Falls than McNally's. Perfect temp, too. Not too cold. Cold Guinness just isn't right. And the foam on my upper lip after sips 1 through 5, is something I treasure and look forward to. Ok...back to FOOD.

My wife makes a damn fine meatloaf. One of my favorite meals. So, when I

saw the "Guinness Meatloaf" on the menu, I knew I had to try it.

Sorry honey...it was the best meatloaf I've ever had. Blows everything else outta the water. No kidding. I'm not sure if the "meatloaf chef" has the faintest idea that he or she is crankin' out award-winning loaves of top-grade beefy goodness...but they are. And they're geniuses because they put healthy strips of bacon across the top of the garlic mashed potatoes. Not bits. Strips. Big'uns. Damn.

I didn't get to have a Guinness for lunch that day. Or any day for that matter while I'm workin'. The management seems to frown on that. BUT...I'm thinking everyone I work with might be a lot more productive if we could have that one glass of beer with lunch. 

I was leaning towards the Bangers & Mashed...or the O'Dwyer Sliders (yum)...but soooo glad I went with the meatloaf. 

And the leprechaun door is always a crowd pleaser. Yes, McNally's Irish Pub has a leprechaun door that only the courageous go through. Is there a pot o' gold on the other side? Perhaps. A copper ceiling at least.

JD

McNally's. They have a Leprechaun door.

Isn't that all you really need to know? I mean…as far as I'm concerned, that makes everything better. 

"Stop by our sloppy mexican mush restaurant. We haven't passed a health inspection in 7 years and at least 3 people have died from syphilis. But we have a Leprechaun door!" 

I'm there! 

"I've built a Medieval torture device designed on schematic drawings obtained from the fourth Saw film. You wanna help me test it?"

No.

"You enter through a Leprechaun door."

Count me in. 

DO YOU PEOPLE EVEN REALIZE THE IMPLICATIONS OF THIS?! 

Your kid won't eat his vegetables. Tell him he has to stick his head through a Leprechaun door and a delicious treat awaits him on the other side.

Guaranteed those peas taste like skittles. 

Flat tire? Leprechaun Door.

Your fiance cheated on you? Lep Do.

Kidney Failure? LD.

What's the moral of the story kids? Eat at McNally's. You can order dishes like "Bangers and Mashed". Because they have the LD. I guarantee you if anyone else in town tried to serve that dish, their establishment would be devoured over night by Boll Weevils. 

I don't remember what Duane, my fellow Lunch Lizard, had. But I do know by the time we left, he was sprouting a gorgeous tuft of golden chest hair. If that doesn't make you want to try McNally's Irish Pub this instant, you are a hopeless cause and may the power of Liam Neeson be with you. 

Now, go crawl your ass through the leprechaun door and have yourself some delicious friggin' food that you can't find anywhere else in town.

Sincerely,

The Lunch Lizardz
(Sioux Falls, South Dakota young & dapper lunch review crew)

Mortal Men Eat Sandwiches The Rest Eat Whiffer's

Lunch Lizardz

January 23, 2013 visit to...

Whiffer’s Sandwiches

Scooter

Whiffer’s Sandwiches, a simple, yet somewhat legendary Sioux Falls lunch destination.  The name says it all.  It’s about Whiffer Randall, the dear woman photographed below, and her tiny café, where she has served satisfying sandwiches and soups for years and years and years.  My S.W.A.G. (scientific wild-ass guess) would be that maybe one in every three people you’d ask in Sioux Falls has been to Whiffer’s.  She works out of a small shack, turned lunch boutique, at the corner of north Minnesota Avenue and west Bailey Street, west side.  Yes, it’s another local eatery located in a sketchy residential neighborhood.  What is it about the Lunch Lizardz and our affection for greasy spoons of “the hood”?  (see Little Coalinga)  It’s cuz THESE are the places where you find the true local culture of a city.  AIN’T gonna find it on 41^st Street! 

Whiffer Randall

As we walked from the convenient off-street parking in the back yard of Whiffer’s, there was a slight north breeze.  My sensitive schnoz picked-up the “whiff” of a Whopper, being char-broiled one block north.  Tempted?  Yes.  But there will ALWAYS be B.K.  Not sure how long we’ll have Whiffer’s. 

Analog is a term I’d use to describe Whiffer’s.  There is absolutely NOTHING digital about it.  You order from a hand-chalked menu board.  You learn the house rules from various hand-written signs.  Two words of advice…BRING CASH.  Ask my fellow Lizardz, J and Jason.  Whiffer DOESN’T take American Express (or any plastic).  You’re welcome, guys.  Thanks for paying me back, J!  Now…Jason.  Where’s my $7.00?  Kidding, bro.  You can treat me the next 2 times. 

      

Murph

Whiffer’s - Not exactly what you’d expect… exactly.   

The sign on the front entrance reads, “Open 11 to 3 (more or less)”  In this age of hyper technology measured and apportioned out in freakish detail, one can’t help but smile at such reckless “inexactness”.  Smacks of dare I say, Humanity!  Whiffer’s harkens back to a time before hand-held computers when the importance of measuring exact time and space really just didn’t matter all that much.  I’d heard about this relaxed phenomenon from travelers abroad but never experienced firsthand, let alone here at home.

Just getting to Whiffer’s was a journey in “inexactness”.  I knew it was up on the north end somewhere.  Sure, I could just punch up my iphone for directions, but what fun would that be?  Instead, I went REALLY Old School with a tactic that rarely works and as such, infuriates the hell out of my wife to no end.  “I can get us within a mile or so.”  I said to the guys as we loaded up, “Close enough?”  EFFF the High Tech!  
   

North Minnesota Avenue...  grand gateway to the city back when 41^st street was made o’ dirt.  As a kid it was understood to get to Sioux Falls you took Russell and turned south on Minnesota.  This is where all the prime real estate was before the migration south, west, and now east.  Quite a shame really when I think back to the excitement of descending the big hill on Minnesota with the downtown skyline rising in front…  a view travelers never see from the Interstate.  The neighborhood is now “less than chique” but holding its own, sorta like Whiffer’s.     

I recently read where Subway is being sued for their 11 inch footlongs.  Someone took a picture with their phone showing their sandwich coming up short next to a tape measure.  The thing went viral and now everyone’s screaming for their extra inch.  Yeah… that’s not gonna happen at Whiffer’s.  The sandwiches are deli-style BIG.  So much so, I went with the half size “Blue Max”, a carnivore’s dream with Roast Beef and Pastrami.  Speaking of, have you had fresh cut Pastrami lately?  Not that processed perfectly pre-cut crap, I’m talkin’ the Cadillac of sandwich meats.  Marbled throughout like finely cut ribeye steak.  So scrumptious it makes me wanna shake the hand and hug the guy who raised it, killed it, and brought it to Whiffer’s.  EFFF the Vegans!    
      

Whiffer’s is above all, comforting.  We didn’t scarf down our sandwiches in some freaky fast-food frenzy.  We relaxed and enjoyed our food in a house on the corner in what could pass for Grandma’s dining room surrounded by Norman Rockwell.  We laughed and talked and were transported back in time for just a moment.  Long enough to forget we were on the clock.             

Dewey

"What’s a Wiffer?"

"Add an 'H'."

"What’s a WifferH?"

"Ha."

"What’s a Whiffer?"

"A Whiffer is a SHE. And Whiffer makes sandwiches for MEN. And women? Phhhhtt."

The décor…oh the décor…it is unmatched. Anywhere. Except maybe your Great Grandma Gunderson’s place in Valley Springs. You haven't been there? Then you don't know Jack. I mean Whiffer. Now head up or down Minnesota Avenue keeping your eyes peeled for a brown house.

1133 North Minnesota Avenue

Sioux Falls, South Dakota

Jason

So…let me explain how this works. You and your chums are discussing where you want to go for lunch like giddy little school girls. The one thing you're sure about, is you want a SANDWICH! 

"Men eat sandwiches!" you shout with righteous indignation. 

It's the purest form of manly food you explain…continuing like a museum tour guide as your pals nod in one accord, "From the earliest days…when men ventured from cave to slay great beast, they ripped a slab of meat straight from the mammoth's hind quarter, slapped it between two pieces of bark and punched each other in the face. 

"AAAAARRRRGGHHH" you all shout, raising your fists to the sky. 

Then, you go get a sub. With chicken. DID CAVE WIFE WEEN THAT BIRD IN THE BACK 40 AND CAREFULLY DEFEATHER IT FOR YOU TOUGH GUY?!

If you're tired of searching. If you're tired of acting like a dude…but not really FEELING like a dude. If you want to sit around a 500,000 volt power line spool and destroy two slabs of bread bale wired around a mammoth mound of meat. You've come to the right place. 

Yes…MEN eat sandwiches. Mortal Men. Everyone else eats at Whiffers.


Thank you to all of those who powered through the latest Lunch Lizardz dining adventure. Now, go meet Whiffer and have yourself the best portion of meat and bread you've ever had.

Sincerely,

The Lunch Lizardz
(Sioux Falls, South Dakota mysterious lunch review crew)

The Jethro Burger at Little Coalinga

(one Tuesday in December 2012)

Contributing authors and masticators: Scooter, Murph, Dewey, and Jason 

SCOOTER

I was honored my fellow Lizardz agreed to venture with me for lunch one day to a rather sketchy neighborhood in east Soo Foo, near the intersection of 8^th and Indiana. No, we didn’t dine at the former McDonald’s turned Chinese joint. We weren’t lunching at the Mexican grocery store with the “taco-teria” in the back. Nor were we slurping soup at The Banquet.  

Our mission, that day, was to tackle what I personally believe is the most scrumptious sandwich this town has to offer, the Jethro Burger at the Little Coalinga Bar (and grill?). The recipe for this sensation is simple, but nobody builds it quite like Jane, the owner, or her sometimes surly, hard-workin’ twin sister, Jean. It’s two patties of fresh, never frozen ground beef, 2 slices of some sort of gooey orange cheese product, 2 crispy, precisely criss-crossed bacon strips and pickles jammed between a plain white hamburger bun. I always ask one of “The Twins” for some spicy mustard and Tabasco sauce, and I coat the thing with ketchup and thirty-some dashes of black pepper.  

For my side, I choose tater-tots instead of fries. You see, I’m on a mission to single-handedly bring “the tot” back from near extinction. Even if your conscience says NO to JethRO, sometimes it’s good to just close your eyes, shut your mouth, then open your mouth again, but only to chomp-down on a little bit of Americana. The Jethro… as satisfying as the comedy of Jethro Bodine and his buxom, cross-dressing cousin, Jethrine, BOTH played by Max Baer, Jr. in the 1960s series The Beverly Hillbillies.                                                    

Jethrine Bodine

I must admit, my favorite memories of the Little Coalinga come from after-hours good-times with friends. There’s simply NO BETTER PLACE in town to toss back an Old Style… followed-by a Grain Belt… chased by a couple of “tubs” of Jim Beam and Coke w/limes, while snacking on day-old popcorn and jammin’ to Audioslave’s “Show Me How To Live” cranked to 11 on their ear-blisterin’ juke box. God, I love The Coalinga. Don’t mind the occasional Wal-Martian dart-throwers. They’re friendly, as long as you keep outa their line of fire. 

When I get to choose the place to celebrate a milestone in my life, I find myself drawn to The Coalinga. I spent a couple of hours there on November 9, 2010, puffing-away on some of my old man’s stale Carltons on the last day we had the freedom to smoke in a bar in the state of South Dakota… and I DON’T smoke! It’s also where I spent about 13 hours on October 20, 2009, saying farewell to work friends the day I resigned from a company I’d proudly worked at for over 20 years. There’s just something magical about the simplicity of Jane’s Little Coalinga Bar, 114 North Indiana Avenue, Sioux Falls, South Dakota, 57103, 605-338-9351.  No website…

P.S. – I Googled Coalinga, trying to figure out what the hell it is. It’s got something to do with coal mining in a town in California. Look it up for yourself if you really care. I just think Coalinga is an AWESOME name!

MURPH

The real deal… we’re talkin’ the absolutely authentic, gen-u-ine article.  You know the moment you see, feel, and taste it.  That’s the vibe served up daily at Little Coalinga.  The infamous neighborhood bar & grill just over the tracks (literally) from downtown.  An establishment so completely free of pretense and hypocrisy, the absence of such renders the place perfect.  No phony façades, themes, or otherwise annoying B.S. The very sort of place a national “neighborhood” type chain would spend millions trying to unsuccessfully copy. 

Be advised there are a few unspoken messages clearly understood soon as you walk in the door.  First, “We’re glad you’re here!  Unless you don’t pay your tab, then we got issues.”  Second, “We serve it fresh every day - not fancy but really GOOD food and you’ll get plenty of it.  Just be a little patient and don’t piss off the help.”  We shared an elevated table with a couple of regulars.  My bar stool slanted off at a nearly impossible angle.  However, any discomfort was completely forgotten soon as our orders arrived.  Little Coalinga’s famous “Jethro” burger with a side of tater-tots.  Yum!  Not enough tots in the world.  The regulars had the special:  a better than homemade, steaming hot beef sandwich with mashed potatoes so enticing I immediately regretted ordering the burger!  Leave it to the locals to get it right.  We’re talkin’ authentic down to the sliced white bread overflowing with gravy. Good Golly Miss Molly!     

As you might expect, the burger was phenomenal, one of the best I’ve had, period. I imagine everything on the menu at Little Coalinga is equally good for the same reason. It really is homemade… only better.  Try as you may, you just can’t pull this off at your place.  Is it the fresh, never frozen beef or the grill I imagine was doing its job back in the 1970’s? In the end, it comes down to people… real people.  Reminds me of the kind of place Don Henley sang about down at the Sunset Grill. 

Everything at Little Coalinga is real so you be real too.  Otherwise, they’ll see right through you.  Speaking of, while I was there I saw a guy wearing a full jogging suit.  Who does that these days?  Merely retired?  Or yeah, exactly what I was thinking…  MOB GUY IN THE WITNESS PROTECTION PROGRAM!!!  This only confirms what I’d always suspected.  If you wanna go somewhere and never be found… where the weather is crappy sometimes but always gives you something to talk about… welcome to South Dakota!  While you’re in town, let’s go down to Little Coalinga.  That little place across the tracks where the drinks are cold, the folks are real and the food is really, really, good. 

DEWEY

Let’s just get the actual “burger review” out of the way quick-like. It was downright “Mama’s kind of greasy goodness” delicious! The Jethro Burger. A double-bacon-cheeseburger that makes you feel like you’re a man. Even Jason! Plus friggin’ tater tots. Who serves tater tots? Someone who’s awesome, that’s who.

Now… let’s get down to the real benefits of going to the Little Coalinga. EDUCATION. Yes, education. You are bound to learn something new every time you go. Whether it’s a new hairstyle or maybe you’ve never witnessed the “trucker-Schlitz-bearded-buckshot” décor that is unique to Little Coalinga.

You’ll want to eavesdrop on as many conversations as you can, as well. You could hear everything from plumbing or bedroom tips, to marketing or financial advice. And you probably wouldn’t find a happier group of customers in town. These people are REAL.

And isn’t it cool when you walk into a place that’s really dark inside… and it’s a bright sun-shiny-day outside? Every single sole in this joint turns, squints, and checks to see what kind of awesome people are walking through the door.

JASON

The Little Coalinga. I guarantee you there isn't another place in the entire continental United States called Little Coalinga. I say "continental" because Alaska is just straight up strange. And the size of China. So for all I know, there could be 78 Little Coalinga's in the Nome vicinity alone. I better Google it. Nope. Made it to page 5 and the closest I got was the "Little Chickadee" bouquet at a floral shop in Coalinga, CA. 

Well a bouquet of flowers the Little Coalinga Ain't! It's probably closer to a slab of granite swung directly at the ribcage. What I mean by that is…you are going to feel like Eastwood walking into a bar in A Fistful of Dollars. You might as well yell "There's a new sheriff in town!" because no matter what, everyone is going to stop what they are doing and turn and stare at you. You have disrupted their lair by opening the door to the outside world. 

But DO NOT FEAR my fine-feathered friend. If you can get past the ghouls that haunt the Coalinga on a regular basis, you will discover what otherworldly power draws them there. Just have a seat, wait for one of the lovely gals to come assist you, and order the Jethro Burger. More than likely, she won't say a word. She will chuckle to herself as she prepares your Iced Tea…knowing full well you have no idea what you just did. I mean…you might as well have opened the portal to release the Necronomicon (any Army of Darkness fans out there? Hello?). What arrives in front of you a short time later will be the beginning of a righteous experience. Bring the holy water and your ipod with Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah because earbuds or not, you are going to hear the choir singing. 

BUN. MEAT. CHEESE. MEAT. CHEESE. BACON. BUN. 

THAT. JUST. HAPPENED. 

As always…thank me later. 

p.s. Don't forget the side of 'tots.

Thank you to all of those who powered through the latest Lunch Lizardz fine dining experience. Now, go get yourself a "Jethro" and some tots from Little Coalinga.

Sincerely,

The Lunch Lizardz