MeatN3

The first time I went to Archibald’s was when I was a high school senior, visiting the University of Alabama (Tuscaloosa). My sister was already studying there, and she and her friends took me to The Sidetrack the night before, where I had two “Derailers.” A Derailer was big plastic cup, filled with a sub-Jim-Jones level of KoolAid and 5 kinds of liquor. So we didn’t make it to Archibald’s until about 3PM the next day, and my head was still feeling like it had a knife in it.

I expected a restaurant, but Archibald’s was a concrete block building in some guy’s backyard. It had a Formica counter, and high metal garden chairs. You watched the meat cook in the pit, right in front of you. There were three things on the menu: pulled pork sandwich (which came on plain white bread, no buns, and enough sauce to make the bread a little soggy), pulled pork plate (which was two sandwiches), and the jumbo pork plate (three sandwiches).

The smell of meat and sauce was amazing, even through my Derailer hangover. So I ordered a pork plate and a coke. When I got the coke, I noticed the inner liner on the cap had already been removed, to check if any prizes had been won in the recent soft drink promotion. The inside of my cap said “Sorry, Try Again.”

One of the guys I was with asked Archibald if you could buy sauce, and he said “Yup, if you bring me a jar.” He also told us he’d cook you a chicken, if you brought him a chicken.

Needless to say, the BBQ was freaking amazing. I walked out full, firmly back on the rails, smiling rather than smarting in the sunshine, head held high.

While for ribs I’d hit the infamous Dreamland, and for “The Blade” I’d go to The Rib Cage, for pulled pork, Archibald’s was the place.

From Greeks in Birmingham:

The Fish Market
611 21st Street South
Birmingham, AL 35233
(205) 322-3330

The only thing I always ha[d] a hard time [with in] southern cooking, one product: corn. We never use corn in our cooking, at least in—where I come from. And we always thought corn, it was for the animals only. And I [didn’t] eat cornbread for the last fifteen—the first fifteen years I was in the United States. And actually, I like it.
–George Sarris

George Sarris came to Birmingham from Greece in 1969. After a few years of working in restaurants owned by relatives and fellow countrymen (Niki’s West and John’s included), he partnered with his uncle in The Fish Market Restaurant on South 21st Street downtown. In 1982 he bought the business from his uncle and has since become a veritable ambassador of Greek food and culture. In addition to running the restaurant, George has an import company that deals in Greek products from his native Tsitalia. But with everything from fried green tomatoes to baklava on the restaurant’s menu, it’s apparent that his place is as Southern as it is Greek. His father, Kostandinos Sarris, has retired from his days running Sarris’s Hot Dogs and can often be found visiting with friends at his son’s place. The joint is always bustling with an eclectic crowd, so plan to stay a while to take it all in. And make sure to check out all of the fantastic photographs hanging throughout the restaurant that beautifully document George’s many visits back to his hometown.

From Greeks in Birmingham:

Gus’s Hot Dogs
1915 4th Avenue North
Birmingham, AL 35203
(205) 251-4540

In Chicago they have different style [of hot dog]. They put [them] in the water,[and] they put mustard, onions, tomatoes and pickles and, uh, relish. Stuff like that. And, uh, in the southern—the southern states like here, we have different. But here is better because they cook with a grill, you know?
—George Nasiakos

Gus Alexander, a native of Greece, opened Gus’s Hot Dogs, sometime in the late 1940s. Alex Choraitis (current owner of Andrew’s Bar-B-Q) took the place over in the 1960s, when Gus and his wife returned to live in Greece. Then, George Nasiakos took it over soon after his arrival to Birmingham in 1997. George came to Birmingham from Tripolis, Greece, via Chicago, where he worked at his brother’s restaurant, Chris’s Grill. Aleck Choraitis recruited George from Chicago, where their brothers knew each other, so that he could concentrate on his barbecue business. The hot dogs served at Gus’s are your typical Birmingham fare: a grilled dog with mustard, onions, and the elusive special sauce. The sauce recipe used there today is the original concoction that Gus Alexander created and then sold to Aleck and later George. George says he’s added his own touch to the sauce in the intervening years. No matter, it’s still one of the best dogs to be found in the Magic City.

From Greeks in Birmingham:

The Bright Star
304 19th Street North
Bessemer, AL 35020
(205) 426-1861

The Bright Star, when it first opened up [at this location] in 1915, used to be open close to twenty-four hours a day. It was just people coming from mining towns[for] coffee, doughnuts, chili—whatever…Even when I was a child, [Bessemer] was so crowded that] people couldn’t walk the streets.
–Jimmy Koikos

Opened by Greek immigrant Tom Bonduris in 1907, The Bright Star is Alabama’s oldest restaurant still in operation. The restaurant has seen three other locations over the years, but The Bright Star has been in its current location in the mining town of Bessemer, just outside of Birmingham, since 1915. Bill and Pete Koikos (Tom Bonduris was their great-uncle) took over the restaurant in the 1920’s, and Bill’s sons, Jimmy And Nick Koikos, are still there, greeting regulars and overseeing the expansive menu that includes fresh fish, steak and some outstanding pie. The Bright Star’s Greek-style snapper and Trout Almondine are legendary, but you can also find a rare delicacy like snapper throats or the unusual pineapple cream cheese pie. The interior of the restaurant is true to its 1915 glory, with handpainted murals on the walls, a marble-tiled floor, and even a couple of private curtained booths—a tradition that, as it turns out, is not unique to Mississippi. The Bright Star will be celebrating its 100th anniversary in 2007, and you can bet there will be one heck of a celebration.

The Sneaky Pete’s in Tarrant used to have a Pepper Dog; a hot dog covered in a hot relish made from 5 pepper varieties. You broke into
a sweat with the first bite, and it was heavenly. I miss them terribly.

Written by Robin Newberry: “when we were in High School, I can remember my girlfriend’s Mom pocketing the sat and pepper shakers from the Sneaky Pete’s in Hoover; I don’t know why”)

Ate there all the time in the 80’s - back when it was Burly Earl’s, not The Burly Earl.

Originally it was “Dagwood’s”, and it changed names a couple years after it opened either because of legal reasons or they thought “Burly Earl’s” was cuter.

I never thought of it as a dive, but then again, I am not easily swayed from good food because of location. I used to eat at that stand outside of the Elyton Meat Market all the time in the 90’s (the one with the Bear Burger).

Written by Robert McCrary

Shakey’s was in a small shopping plaza in Midfield just West of where Western Hills Mall was built (exactly one year after I moved from
there). It used to be the next place to the North (toward Fairfield) up from the Midfield Cinema (built exactly TWO years after I moved). Come to think of it, Midfield got a lot more fun after I left.

We used to go there all the time, and I blame that place for my love of silent movies. They used to show them above the stage when the band took a break, and I distinctly remember laughing myself sick at a movie while we were there (I was about 7 or and was overjoyed when I found out what it was (”The Cannon Ball” - 1916 Triangle / Keystone w/ Chester Conklin) and was able to get a copy. It’s not nearly as funny now, I’m afraid.

The band in question was a ragtime / dixieland band and everyone in it wore straw hats. I don’t remember a damn thing about the pizza.

After all, they served FUN at Shakey’s……..

Written by Robert McCrary: “…also pizza.”

This place was my introduction to the Old South. The old black guys who carried your trays to your table for 25 or 50 cents, the green jello salad with cottage cheese, the tomato aspic, the sliced roast beef, the spigot you could fill your water glass up with while standing in line, all gone now, I’m sure.

We have a family joke about going to Britling’s once; my Mom forgot to change out of her bedroom slippers, and didn’t notice until we had finished our meal and were on our way down the concourse to shop at Parisian’s. One weird look from an elderly beehive-hairdooed old lady, and we high-tailed it back home.

Written by Tom

I may have missed it, but I don’t think anyone has mentioned “downstairs Romeo’s” across the street from Burly Earl’s and down some stairs. Not that I ever ate there, but this was a place where you could buy alcohol on Sundays, even if you were underage (I’ll have some of the house coffee, please — dark). Wine out of a stainless coffee pitcher and into coffee cups.

At UAB in 1979, I became a member of “Romeo’s Flaming Amaretto Society” — I even got a membership card — earned by downing a pony glass shot of Amaretto topped with flaming Bacardi 151. I caught my beard on fire once. Ah, the memories.

written by Ken McCoy: “never more Dionysian since”

This place was amazing. The mother would come by and talk to you, suggest wines for the evening, ask you personal questions, etc. etc. all while rubbing your back. The decor was really crappy - the waiting room was a ripped and torn couch with a TV, and the tablecloths were your requisite white and red check with candle wax ALL OVER THE WALLS due to accumulation and neglect over the decades. I liked that it was downstairs.

It didn’t last a wink when they moved near my house in the 80’s (where the original Jim and Nicks moved into later, and what is now a dry cleaners) because all it really had going was charm and a sense of theatre. In the open, there was no real reason to eat there.

Written by Robert McCrary: “Never got to sit in the enclosed rear booth”

Supposedly (according to my dad and several older Birminghamians I have
talked to) there also used to be a lot of hamburger places downtown
with the same sauce-based philosophy. My dad says they pretty much
died out by the early 60’s.

The best hamburger I ever had in
Birmingham was a holdover from that era - a place called “Giglio’s Eat
Shop” in Bessemer. My one page review of that place (in ICTW) was so
appreciative that the family FRAMED IT in their living room, and called
to tell me!

The owner / artist in residence Tony Giglio got sick, closed the place,
and died within months. And he never told his family how to make the
sauce.

Talk about a place I MISS. Good lord those things were terrific.

(written by Robert McCrary: “I had two, and a coke”)