In tribute to the writer Donald E. Westlake, who died late last year, Chow, Baby is re-reading all 100-plus of his pulp, crime, and comic-caper novels. It’s now up to 1974’s Help I Am Being Held Prisoner, one of the comic-capers, starring a hapless prison inmate named Harry Künt (“It’s pronounced Koont! With an umlaut!”). Boy, Chow, Baby wishes it had a pun-built-right-in name that people could have fun with. That would never get old.
This would be a good conversation starter with Tim Love, a man who can’t walk 10 feet without somebody playing on his name, but he wasn’t on site at the two-week-old SoSeven Love Shack (817 Matisse Dr.) when Chow, Baby stopped by. Good thing Chow, Baby had brought its book along to pass the time – but it had just gotten to the part where Künt tangles with the Joy Boys during outdoor-exercise period, and the one thing you don’t want on your mind while hanging in Love Shack’s patio is prison yards. Though this new one is a lot shinier than the Stockyards location, with glass and metal instead of splintery wood, all you can see over the 7-foot-high concrete patio walls are the tops of the featureless beige-y detention centers that pass for upscale condos and hotels these days. The more Chow, Baby obsessed about it, the more help-I-am-being-held-prisoner it felt. One of those country-club federal prisons, from the looks of the other inmates, but still.
Just as Chow, Baby was considering making a break for it – the concrete walls do have convenient holes for footholds – the Lobster Love ($11.54) it had ordered at the inside counter arrived. (The guards/servers don’t take food orders from inmates, but they do deliver.) Normally you wouldn’t expect to get lobster rolls in prison, except maybe in Shawshank, as they’re more of a Maine thing: like chicken or tuna salad except with lobster, spiced up with minced celery and (usually) Miracle Whip, traditionally served in a hot dog bun. Or better yet, the similar but top-split New England bun, which is what the Love Shack uses – except when they’ve run out, which they didn’t bother to mention to Chow, Baby when it ordered. So what Chow, Baby got (for $11.54, recall), was lackluster innards – really, the only spark came from the celery – dozing in a, get this, a folded-over slice of toast. No lie: a slice of toast. It’s true that classic Maine lobster rolls aren’t supposed to be flavor-bombs, so we’ll give Love Shack’s a half point for authenticity. But in this context (Texas, not Maine, and on toast), this was the lamest sandwich Chow, Baby has had in a very long time. Also it cost about $3 per bite.
On the upside, Chow, Baby had plenty of tummy room left for a Dirty Love burger ($5.77). The key to these is that even if you don’t like, say, lettuce on your burgers, go for fully loaded anyway. It’s one of those gestalt things: The lettuce, tomatoes, American cheese, crispy bacon, fried quail egg, and Love sauce meld with the tenderloin-brisket burger for an amazingly juicy flavor-bomb. Truly, the best burger Chow, Baby has ever eaten next to a 7-foot-high concrete wall. If it could just escape that imprisoned feeling, Chow, Baby would sign up for many more conjugal visits to SoSeven Love Shack.
Contact Chow, Baby at chowbaby@fwweekly.com.
