No Reservations

My mom and I both love the show Anthony Bourdain: No Reservations. It follows Anthony, a New York City chef, as he travels the world in search of genuine food and genuine experiences. He is apparently very well connected as he meets someone he calls "one of my good friends" in just about every location. That good friend (often an executive chef) usually sets him up with amazing food and gives him the inside scoop on just about everything.
Last night, I was Anthony Bourdain. The episode? No Reservations: Auburn. From this point on, I will narrate in the voice of Anthony Bourdain.
Auburn, perhaps most notably a lovely shade of hair color, also happens to be a city in the southern state of Alabama. Known for their football fanaticism and agricultural prowess, I wasn't sure what we were doing taping a food travelogue in a southern college town. I met up with my brother, a landscape guru from just north of here and his lovely wife who just happened to be running a half marathon here in Auburn... in January... in twenty degree weather. My brother went to college at Auburn and knows the area and the people quite well. He took us to a restaurant called Amsterdam Cafe, where his friend and fraternity brother is the executive chef. Chef had reserved a table for us in the front window of the restaurant, no waiting involved. Soon after our arrival, the chef came to greet us at the table and tell us about some of the special menu items. He emphasized the bar-b-que Georgia quail, the Berkshire pork, and the true Alaskan cod. He reminded us that the bbq sauce was not Heinz 57 with mangos tossed in, that the pork had been hand massaged, and that the Alaskan cod was not Captain D's fish sticks. This guy was growing on me already. My brother ordered the quail on a bed of fried green tomatoes and topped with sweet potato shavings. As we waited and browsed the menu an appetizer arrived that nobody had ordered. Descending from on high was the largest lobster claw I have ever laid eyes on. Completely shelled, it was a mini nerf football of succulent lobster meat, covered in butter and beer foam, sitting on a flash fried grits cake. I became instantly more happy to be here, in the South. The meal that followed was a series of bests. The best porkloin I've ever tasted. The best seared Tuna I've ever tasted, the best meal I've ever had at Amsterdam. But, perhaps the best of the best? My brother picked up the tab, thanks bro.

So who's to say there's no fine dining in Auburn? It was plenty fine for me.

(insert electric guitar riff and raspy voice saying "Nooooooo reservations".)