Sometimes where the story comes from isn’t as interesting as the fact that there is a story at all. Because in the case of The Monster, his deep love of Southern food, his fascination with all things fried, his constant need for crunchy chicken and battered foodstuff makes no sense at all. A northern white kid with no roots whatsoever anywhere south of O-hi-ya, with parents who don’t share his taste buds for such fare, well, how did that happen?
No clue. But it did. And so it is with great anticipation that The Monster visits Parson’s. Time to get at it…
There is some raw. There is some salad. Both delightful. But you didn’t come here for that. There are drinks. Helpful as the sun decides to do its thing. There is a shrimp toast type thing that should be avoided. The one misstep. It sits sadly, pushed aside and discarded.
But you’ve come here for the chicken and the fish. Fried heaven.
And you feel no shame. You go total mongrel. Beast mode. There is the time when the waitress puts the food down and then there is the time when the food is no longer.
It might be about forty-seven seconds.
It is another good story.
Go to Parson’s. Do the same. Write your own story.
Why go? Friedness.
Monster rating: 4/5 Monsters
2952 West Armitage
Chicago, IL 60647