Seafood in Utah
Don’t ask me how I ended up in Utah.
Please, don’t ask. Because I’m not going to tell you.
However, I will say this: The seafood in Utah really sucks. I strongly recommend you don’t order it. I also recommend you stay out of Utah. There’s nothing there. Especially not decent seafood.
After driving across a desert wasteland for hours, the mega-metropolis of St. George appeared on my horizon. Dinner choices along Interstate-15 in southwest Utah pretty much consisted of the following options: McDonald’s; Carl’s Jr.; Taco Bell; Carl’s Jr.; Burger King; Carl’s Jr.; Kentucky Fried Chicken; Carl’s Jr.; and Carl’s Jr.
Sensing a pattern here?
I don’t do fast food. Not my thing. And, I sure as shit ain’t eating at any Carl’s Jr., which is chow for Republican hillbillies. In my whole life, not once, I have ever once dined at a Carl’s Jr. So far, I’ve crossed 56 birthdays, so there’s no intention of breaking my lucky streak now. If the food was free, I wouldn’t eat at a Carl’s Jr. I’d rather dig a dumpster at McDonald’s than eat at a Carl’s Jr.
Or….try out a seafood place in Utah.
Fortunately, there was an option: Long John Silvers.
Remember good ole’ Long John Silvers? Didn’t they go out of business years ago? I vaguely remember the “seafood restaurant” during my high school days. The food used to be pretty good, but when you’re in high school, everything tastes good — especially with a cold beer.
Long John Silvers became immortalized forever in the hysterically brilliant movie Fast Times at Ridgemont High. The lead character played by Judge Reinhold worked as a fast-food fry cook. All the fry cooks were forced to dress up like pirates and greet the customers with seafaring talk like — “shiver me timbers.” They called the customers, “mate.” The reason it was so funny was because Long John Silvers was really like that. If ever there was a prize for humiliation it would go to the poor misfortunate teens who had to slave in places like that.
Uncertain of what to do exactly, I clicked on Yelp. I’m not sure what’s scarier — knowing 72 people actually took the time to post a Yelp review of a remote Long John Silvers location, or reading the actual reviews laced with scathing criticism:
Here are a couple of gems. Apparently, it doesn’t matter what you order. Everything tastes the same:
Man, I’d sure hate to be in manager “Jackie’s” shoes after reading this review:
Love this one….”more ink than brains.” LOL:
Okay, so there’s no way Long John Silvers can be this bad. And if it is truly this bad, the entertainment value might be worth the horror. Besides, I’m not doing Carl’s, Jr. So — for the first time in two decades, I pulled into the parking lot and went inside. I mean, how bad can you fuck up a piece of fish?
Well, shiver me timbers, mate!
If you care nothing whatsoever about your health, this menu looked pretty enticing. Shrimp — fried. Something called “chicken planks” — fried. Hush puppies — fried. All the fish — fried.
I guess ordering broiled fish in a blanc de blanc sauce isn’t an option.
The fish was advertised as “wild-caught Alaskan cod.” Really? Wild caught? I’m calling “bullshit” on that claim. There’s no way some joker was out on a boat casting a reel off the coast of Baranof Island yesterday, catching my dinner. If so, I sure as hell want to meet the truck driver who managed to deliver the fish listed as the “catch of the day.” That fucker should either be driving a racecar or else have his own magic show in Vegas.
My order came with an option of two side dishes. I inquired as to whether the cole slaw was made in-house. The cashier looked at me like I was from outer space.
“Yeah, do you make the coleslaw here, or is it delivered that way?”
“Oh, I thought you were asking if we make the coleslaw at my house.”
I don’t see any cabbage patches surrounding the restaurant, so it’s probably fair to presume the coleslaw gets trucked in from somewhere else. Maybe the fisherman who reeled in my meal moonlights as a cabbage picker, too.
As for my ultimate selection, Combo Platter #3, my dinner tasted like a funeral. Whatever form of aquatic life ended up on my paper plate after being basted in batter and deep fried to the point where every morsel of original taste was scorched out of its miserable existence, it has my deepest sympathy. I give the “fish” a score of 1. But I give the hushpuppies a 6. I even went back and ordered two more sides of hushpuppies. I would have scored the hushpuppies higher, but they tasted like fish.
I won’t be going back. I won’t visit Long John Silvers in St. Geoge, Utah. Not ever. In fact, I won’t ever order seafood in Utah again.
Now, if I can only find a liquor store.