It's ALL Powerful Stuff at 114th and Metcalf

by Chris Becicka

Manager Storme Blankenship shows off some of J. Alexander's wide array of dishes.

So there we were, Mr. Portly and I, at the bar where we like to eat because there are often long waiting lines in places that don't take reservations. Not being all that hungry, and deciding early I was going to select, once again, probably the best chocolate cake in town (with ice cream and chocolate sauce, enough for three people normally), I'd ordered a side salad of the only cole slaw I ever order out, the Maytag blue cheese cole slaw (MBC) for $2.95, and taking just a bite of Chub's burger (which he swears is the best burger in town, in part because they will actually cook it to the temperature you desire, even rare) and delicious skinny fries, I was persuaded to try ‘Powerful Stuff.'

And, yes, I meant that sentence to be that long. J. Alexander's inspires long sentences. If you followed it, you should be saying, "Chris, get on with it already. What is 'Powerful Stuff'"?

This, folks, may be the ultimate ice cream dessert. Piled at a minimum of six inches high and three inches wide, this Snickers™ ice cream pie rests on layers of Oreo® cookie crumbs, combined with caramel, and topped with a super rich caramel sauce and toasted pecans and slathered with whipping cream. I'd like to say we didn't eat it . . . or eat it all. After all, we'd already had the chocolate cake. But, I can't. It was shameful.

Never one to give up, however, after only that a oh, 4,000 calories, I promptly invited an engineer friend to lunch with me there, and we ate more responsibly. A newcomer to J. Alexander's he commented on the heavy wood timber trusses, the wood planking on the ceiling--of and comfortable seating (too low to the table for short legged creatures like me, however), saying it was an expensive building. Who cares, I thought, struggling against the temptation to simply order a phone book to sit on and dessert. I ordered the Thai Kai salad ($11.95), one of eight salad selections, which was a very good combo of tasty shredded chicken and cilantro vinaigrette with Thai peanut sauce. He ordered a "Downhome chicken" sandwich, without the bacon (heart issues) but with the barbeque sauce and Monterey jack cheese. It was gone in about ten minutes, a tribute I'm sure to its taste rather than his eating habits. He loved the MBC that he'd subbed for the fries.

Then, I decided to do some more serious tasting and make it challenging for this restaurant that is actually well known for its six Midwestern aged beef selections: I'd take my pescetarian friend. And yes, that is a word I meant to use--she's a vegetarian who avoids red meat and poultry but eats fish. We started with citrus cured smoked salmon--a chunky spread with thin toasties that was terrific. Pam ordered the special, ignoring the three listed fish dishes and two pastas, monchong ($21.95). That's a deepwater fish, usually served marinated and grilled in Hawaii, its home grounds. Tonight, it was Cajun spiced, and I do mean spiced. The orzo mix it came with was served cold, which made for a great contrast. I ordered prime rib, the smaller 12 ounce portion ($20.95), and it was perfectly done, arriving with horseradish sauce and au jus and a huge pile of smashed potatoes. Both had been preceded by large salads--Pam called hers a party on a plate as it was so colorful--that came with a honeyed croissant which gave new meaning to the words rich and flakey.

Persevering, we bemoaned the fact they were out of ‘Powerful Stuff,' and settled on splitting carrot cake. It was a warm, four inch square (we measured) packed full of cake covered with creaaaammmy cream cheese frosting. So scrumptious, and we so full, we reluctantly saved a third for our portly friend to appreciate. Which he did--and I, sadly, am dieting. Again.