Bosco’s, But Really It’s About Health Care Reform

I’m not a very political person. I don’t even vote. Yet. But you know what? Former Senate Majority Leader Bill Frist told me that he didn’t either until he became a resident in surgery. So I still got time…to write about food.

I went to Bosco’s Brewery in Hillboro Village a long while ago. For some unknown reason, I like to order catfish sandwiches. Now that I think about it, though, I think it’s the confluence of being in the South, my fondness of spices and fried food, and my nostalgia for McD’s fillet-o-fishes that lead me to order catfish/fish sandwiches at many of the restaurants along 21st Ave. This one, if I remember, was pretty good. Fried and/or blackened is a pretty standard method of fish preparation in the South, and one can rarely screw that up.

As for the beer: well, beer is beer; beer is good. I don’t know how long their seasonal brews last, or if the brews I got were from their summer repertoire, but one can generally expect a good recommendation from their waitstaff.

As for health care reform, I think I’ve spent the last couple of days thinking more about the reform bill than I have about food, which is an abnormality in my daily routine. I don’t know why I worry about it though, no matter how much people (whether they be actually knowledgeable about medicine and health care, or just politicians) oppose this bill, it’s going to get passed by reconciliation in two weeks, and then I can say goodbye to a good portion of my future salary. And health care in America won’t be any better than it is now. There will just be a lot more pissed off specialists practicing then. I also don’t know why I’m airing out my frustration online. I just wish there were more doctors involved with this process like Dr. Frist. He’s the man.

Bosco’s Brewery

Hillsboro Village

Nashville, TN

Sportsman’s

Back in college, I watched Grey’s Anatomy and was all into it like nobody’s bisnazz. Then there was the episode where the code black was called and the bomb exploded in the hospital but no one left the hospital because only the SWAT team guy died, and no Meredith. Suspension of disbelief: SHATTERED. Nevertheless, I was still a naive teenager when I watched the show, and romanticized the life of the surgeon: performing surgery, saving lives, and then going to the local bar where all the other doctors gathered after work to down a couple beers with all my MD buddies after a hard day’s work. I believed that was the surgeon’s life. It was awesome.

Now that I’m a few weeks into my third year of medical school, living a similar life style to real doctors, I now know that my romanticized, school-boyish dream is not how real life is. Life is tough. Not just omgIhavetowork9to5MondaytoFriday tough, but OMFGWTFIhavetowork6AMto7PMsixdaysaweek tough. Plus call schedules. And I’m not even on my surgery rotation. Just how am I supposed to have the energy and money (I am paying $40k this year to work in the hospital) to knock back a couple brewskies with my residents and attendings? Not to mention time?

Revelation: real life is not like TV. Nobody finishes work at the hospital before 5pm, unless you’re post-call, in which case you will be going home to recoup your 30+hour sleep debt. Everyone else finishes after 5pm, and from what I’ve observed, goes home to their families. They don’t go to the bar after work. Scrubs and white coats don’t flood the bar for happy hour. And maybe that’s a good thing. Patients would probably shit bricks seeing their doctors chugging beers at the bar. Probably. At least that’s what all my hours in patient-centered classes in my first two year of medical school would lead me to believe.

So there is no “hospital bar” where all the doctors hang out after work. That kind of blows. But Sportsman’s is the closest thing there is to my romanticized fantasies of youth. At least that’s how my friends and I treat it. Not that we go there everyday and drink, but it’s a suitable option whenever we want to gather for an impromptu dinner with a beer or two. Since the only other patrons are…actually, I have no idea what the other patrons do–but they’re not doctors, and they’re not students. Anyway, I don’t feel like a tool when I’m there with a white coat or scrubs.

The menu itself is unapologetically mainstream: burgers, salads, chicken. They somehow have the same fried catfish dish at two different prices, too. I’ve even heard stories of failed health inspection tests. But I don’t go there for the food. You may want to decide for yourself if you want to go there food, too. However, I will still go, just because they have 2-for-1 beer specials and it’s an ideal hangout spot during 3rd year. Also, it’s the closest bar to the hospital–I’m not counting Vanderbilt’s undergrad pub because I would definitely feel like a tool going there in scrubs and all. So…yeah…Sportsman’s is “aight.”

Sportsman’s

Nashville

Montana Ted’s Wild Awesome Adventure

Comfort food is awesome. Screw fine dining. I hate hoity toity stuff. I could eat burgers for days and days in all shapes and combinations. Ted’s burgers are one of the tastier burgers I’ve stumbled upon in Nashville. I don’t know what it is. Maybe the patty, which could be more tightly packed and held together, but only because there’s so much meat juice flowing that it runs down the side of my arm and I have to suppress urges to lick the grease. George Foreman and his grill can eat it. The grease and juice make the burger tastier. In fact, it wouldn’t be comfort food if it wasn’t unhealthy. Add a slice of cheese, some mushrooms, maybe onions–even a FRIED EGG!–and look what you have: breakfast, lunch, and dinner combined into one sandwich, ideally eaten in one sitting. I didn’t order the “kitchen sink” burger, but I do give the place thumbs up for offering the fried egg topping. The fried egg needs to be accepted and embraced as a burger topping. In fact, I believe the addition of an egg to any item should automatically qualify it as a comfort food. Omelets.  Ramen. Oyakodon. All of the previously mentioned are my comfort foods, and all have eggs. But you know, I understand people have differences of opinion. Comfort foods as a concept is like philosophy: it should be up for interpretation by anybody; there shouldn’t be comfort food tyrants who dictate what is and isn’t a food of significant comfort. Or maybe I’m just thinking too much, and my ill resentment towards my college philosophy class is resurfacing. Whatever. Burgers are great!

This tomato salad wasn’t worth $4. I should’ve bought a bag of prunes instead. Or Metamucil.

I also forgot to mention that the “wild awesome adventure” part is due to the fact that they serve bison meat here–more adventurous than beef, less delicious than veal.

Ted’s Montana Grill

West End

Nashville, TN

Arnold’s Country Kitchen is Old School

I actually have no idea how long Arnold’s has been around. I do know that it took me almost two years after moving to Nashville to try the food, even though this place was one of the first places I was suggested to try. From the looks of it, the squat, red, brick building has been in the same location for decades, its freshly painted exterior hiding an interior straight out of the 60’s or 70’s. If I knew pop culture I may have recognized what era the celebrities in black and white photos adorning the walls were from. Alas, I know nothing (which is also why I have very little to contribute at our weekly trivia time outings).

Back to Arnold’s: the place has something, though I can’t quite conjure up the right word. After being greeted by employees chillaxin outside on my way in, glancing around the small interior, and ordering up my (as I would later find out, face-meltingly-good) food via cafeteria-style assembly line, I don’t think “old school” is the correct adjective. What is it then? Passionate? Family-style? Comfort food? Soul? That comes close. History? Maybe it’s a combination of history and soul in such a hole in the wall that reminds me of all the other establishments John T. Edge wrote of in his book Southern Belly: The Ultimate Food Lover’s Companion to the South. Yes, this is it; this is what I love: the hole-in-the-wall that slaps you in the face with awesome food at dirt-cheap prices. It’s not in the same league as The French Laundry, not even Cheesecake Factory. No. This is a whole different beast, a concept similar to Prince’s Hot Chicken. Only locals would know this type of joint, as well as tourists who dig around the literature, because these places are written up like mad in food books, newspapers, and OMG foodblogs!

Well, as much as I’d like to ramble on and on about food and restaurant culture, I must cut this short (it’s nearing midnight, and I should be studying right now). I just want to say I like this place. I wish they were open at times other than lunch on weekdays, but I guess that’s part of their charm. The fried green tomatoes are crisp on the outside, and not so tomatoey on the inside to the point you feel like you’re eating a vegetarian version of a meat sandwich when dipping them in ketchup, if that makes sense at all (probably not). I didn’t use ketchup, by the way–they were good without it. In fact, I didn’t use condiments at all. The meatloaf was disgustingly good, for lack of better adverb. Usually the loaf is what makes the meatloaf, and the sauce is just a sideshow, but I found a new love for meatloaf sauce–this one included chunks of onions, tomatoes, and okra in it, not at all ketchupy like other meatloaf sauces. The actual loaf of meat was good as well.

Hopefully I can make time to go back. My belly demands it.

Arnold’s Country Kitchen

605 8th Ave S

Nashville, TN‎

(615) 256-4455‎

In-N-Out Battles Five Guys

This is as epic as it gets. The topic starts so much fire under so many people’s asses I can smell the barbecue through my compooter. In-N-Out? Five Guys? West Coast? East Coast? Which is better?

(And no, I will not be mentioning the phrase “I’m dreaming of California” anytime soon, though my obvious choice for burger champion screams “California rocks!” Maybe I’ll twitter about California in the future. You know, when I get popular and people start paying attention to what I say.)

I don’t know how much I really need to add to the topic. Each aspect, from burgers to fries, all the way down to the crunch of peanut shells on the ground and the red-and-white outdoor umbrellas, have been analyzed into minisculfinity (miniscule + infinity = confabulation or confabulous?). To be honest, I don’t care for fries from either establishment. Checkers has the best fries in all of fastfoodland. Until one of the chains decides to have sweet potato fries or duck-fat-fried fries, Checkers will remain indominatable amongst nutritionally-devoid fried sticks of  starches.

I can comment, however, on their burgers, the other main point of contention. To compare the baseline characteristics, I’ll make it easy by comparing some basic categories.

Five Guys

1. Size: excessive is the word I’m thinking of; while I try to not get food over my face when eating (not that I care), it inevitably happens. The burger to mouth ratio doesn’t match
2. Meat: it tastes tough and dry, kinda reminds me of fancy microwave burgers without that microwave taste
3. Toppings: again, excessive; I’ll inevitably get something on my pants (and again, not that I care, but people don’t like to be seen with me afterwards)
4. Cost: $6 for a double cheeseburger is out of my league, even if it does come with free peanuts

In-N-Out

1. Size: the double double just barely makes the clearance height of my mouth after a bit of smushing together
2. Meat: it really does taste different, dare I say fresh? To describe it in at least some sort of helpful way, I’ll say that there’s the dash of umami that all meat lovers are craving, which complements and even enhances the toppings, which brings me to…
3. Toppings: ANIMAL STYLE – lettuce, tomato, grilled onions, cheese, and special sauce. Simple. Euphoric. Like cocaine or heroin. Mmmm…
4. Cost: $3 for a double double. I can use the leftover cash and buy another burger and bask in some gluttony

So that’s my comparison. Simple, if not crude. It gets the job done though. Are you dreaming of California yet? They even have Neopolitan milk shakes too!

Thanksgiving Onslaught

I’ve had a good week to let my stomach recover from Thanksgiving (somewhat–a few of us went back to Prince’s Hot Chicken for round 2 a couple days ago). Out of all the holidays and special occasions, Thanksgiving is my favorite. It’s a food lover’s day. Christmas is for consumerism, Valentine’s is for lovers, St. Patrick’s is for alcoholics who are in denial, Independence Day is for Will Smith, Halloween is for white people, and my birthday is another excuse to get excessively intoxicated. I don’t really care; I just want turkey and gravy in my belly. And yes, I know I can eat that any day, but I need a day dedicated to eating, napping, eating, napping, and repeat.

I started my Thanksgiving day bright and early at 10:30am to pick up the turkey kit from Whole Foods. However, this dinner was not destined to be; my mom dropped a bomb the night before when she told me that we were going to a Chinese church Thanksgiving potluck instead. At the time, I was overcome by devastation. Chinese and Thanksgiving are polar opposites. It took my family over a decade to transition from Thanksgiving hot pots to Thanksgiving turkeys.

Thankfully, there was actually a mix of Western and Chinese fare at the potluck, and I was happy. My stomach, not so much. It was about to burst even before I started on my second plate and way before I started on dessert. On the way out, I also chowed down on some extra chicken wings. I’m a fatty, what can I say?

Side note: I had just finished my exam on the heart, lungs, and reproductive system. As part of the potluck, some members gave speeches on what they were thankful for. One member detailed his story of surviving a heart attack, getting a stent, getting restenosed, and then finally getting bypass surgery. While listening, all that went through my head was the pathology and treatment for each stage of this man’s ordeal. I couldn’t even escape medical school after flying thousands of miles away. Crap.

On Friday, or Thanksgiving Part Deux, I had a respite for lunch when I got some tacos with my friend Viv. It wasn’t really a break for my stomach, though, because I ordered three tacos and a horchata. Dear Stomach, I’m sorry.

Dinner came around, and I was confronted with another feast. At this point in the 48-hour period, I’m not attacking the food anymore; it’s attacking me. I suffered through another glorious Whole Foods Thanksgiving meal, calling it quits midway during my second helping. I couldn’t even entertain the notion of eating Whole Foods’ oh-so-delicious pumpkin pie. It was good food, but I was on the verge of entering food coma oblivion after my second Thanksgiving. I definitely didn’t prepare enough for so many consecutive feasts. It was sorta like “death by schnoo schnoo” on Futurama.

Now that I’m thinking about all this food, though, I’m getting hungry and long to relive it all again. Maybe I’ll be better prepared when Christmas dinners roll around.