When it's raining balls all week, the "Let's stay dry" part of me starts saying drive-through is the only way to go. And driving down Buckner Boulevard, I came across a drive-through with barred windows, chipping paint and zero cars in line. Count me in.
The menu at John's Seafood & Chicken is pretty much what you'd expect: seafood "&" chicken. They've got chicken wings, fried shrimp and catfish, plus they also offer about a million other fried options including french fries, egg rolls and onion rings. Basically, they'll put batter on anything and fry it up for ya in their chicken-fish grease. So, if you're a real veggie monster (not one of those veggie-curious poseurs who still eats bacon when you're drunk—"Oh mah Gawd, I was soooo wasted when I made out with that maple-smoked center cut") it's probably safest to skip this place.
In fact, it's probably safest for everyone to skip John's. I ordered the No. 13: six fried shrimp, one catfish fillet, fries and two out-of-nowhere slices of bread. I added a drink ("Can I get a Diet Coke?" "Uhh...we only have Diet Pepsi.") and my total came to $7.56. The shrimp were OK, but I started to really get worried when I preferred what must've been expired squeeze-packet mayo that they relabeled "tartar sauce" over their homemade cocktail sauce. The fries were rubbery, and I was racking my brain trying to figure out why on earth the bread slices were there. Was I supposed to make a sandwich? Were they there to sop up some nonexistent grease? And then I figured it out: The catfish was just a garnish and not meant to be eaten by humans, so the bread was there to help fill you up, assuming that six fried shrimp wouldn't be enough to count as a whole lunch. I'm not kidding, when I took a bite of this catfish I spat it out instantly. And I've got a high tolerance for trash food—consider the fact that I ordered catfish in the first place, right? But this was not the kind of catfish I'm used to. By catfish, John's must've meant feline bajingo.
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Which is strange because bars on the windows are usually an indicator of deliciousness.