iPad: The Stuff iLove, The Stuff iHate

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You’ve been hearing about it non-stop for months, and now it’s out. The only way the iPad could get more media time is if it fucked Kate Gossellin and sired eight little iPods on her famewhore ass. Obama could take a dump on the White House lawn in the shape of Khrushchev’s face and it wouldn’t knock the iPad off the front page. You’ve heard how it’s as magical as a Disney Princess’s vagina and as pointless as everything Jerry Seinfeld has done since 1998. You’ve even seen the occasional review that tries to balance the critique.

But you haven’t seen mine, and it’s a must-see. Why? Where else are you gonna find a description of the conflict between divergent computing paradigms that features a redneck in-breeding metaphor? Hm? That’s what I thought.

First, let’s address the stuff you’ve heard elsewhere, and try to pick the reality from the fractured shards of what was once considered journalism.

  1. The iPad is just a really big iPod Touch.

    I suppose it is, in the same way that a 747 is just a really big Piper Cub, or a mansion is just a really big studio apartment over your parents’ garage. It’s not that the statement is incorrect as much as it simply misses the point. While the iPad is scaled up from it’s tiny ancestor, your fingers have stayed the same size. (Unless you’re Wyle E. Coyote and a train just ran over your hand, in which case, my condolences and thank you for shopping Acme.) That means you’ve got more room to manipulate more virtual objects within the device’s workspace.

    As an example, consider a piano simulator on the iPod Touch… it might be able to fit, what, four keys on the screen simultaneously? On the iPad, a similar app could fit ten or twelve keys, meaning richer, more complex music can be played. A bigger control surface equals more control.

    So yes, this means that what that hooker in Reno told you was a lie: size matters. Also, she was a dude. And that wasn’t lip gloss.

  2. The iPad is a magical game-changer.

    This one depends on your definition of “magic”, and what game you’re trying to change.

    If it were really all that astounding an experience, then it would feel foreign and strange… you’d have to struggle to wrap your head around the way it works. In reality, the iPad works exactly as you expect it would. You touch things and they respond. The stuff you touch isn’t occupying some abstract space on a metaphorical desktop; it’s literally in your hands.

    Let’s face it: the computer industry has spent the last 30 years convincing us to interact with data in a manner similar a kid playing the claw machine at the bowling alley. Some of us have even gotten really good at it, snagging the stuffed octopus on the first try every time. All Apple has done is show us how unnecessary all that effort has become, and provide us a shortcut.

    Does that amount to a changed game? Yeah, I think it does. But we’re still in the first quarter, and making up the new rules as we go along.

  3. The devil went down to Georgia, looking for a chromosome to steal...

    The iPad will/won’t replace your laptop.

    We’ve been using tools such as keyboards and mice to interact with computers for so long that habits and even core activities have congealed around them. We’re like kids growing up in backwoods Alabama, adapting to the realities of poverty, isolation, and sexy, sexy relatives… at some point, you accept that double-clicked icons and flipper-footed, cyclopean babies are simply Parts of Life.

    Once that happens, you build these ideas into the new stuff your develop. Take blogging as an example; it relies on the ability to quickly flip between multiple web pages, copying/pasting bits between them, and streaming Comedy Central in the background as you scan for any jokes you can “borrow” from The Daily Show. That process is currently difficult to manage on the iPad, and not just because Jon Stewart’s lilliputian frame seems even smaller on a 9″ screen… it’s gonna take a while to develop a multi-touch experience that makes that kind of rapid, precise context-switching feel natural.

    (‘Cause the trick with multi-touch is this: if it doesn’t feel natural, it’s a failure.)

    In such cases, the iPad isn’t ideal, and you’re gonna be reaching for your Logitech more often than not. But even then, the Jesus Slate can be occasionally added to strategic points in your workflow, replacing the mouse for selected sub-tasks. I’d much rather research a new blog entry on the iPad than stare at my laptop’s inferior LCD for a couple hours, and given I keep all aspects of my work in the cloud, switching between machines doesn’t cause me pain.

    Your mileage may vary. (Particularly if you drive a Toyota, which is likely to get three head-on collisions to the tank.)

  4. He's right. Your face is no bueno!

    The iPad doesn’t have USB ports/isn’t an open platform/won’t give me a BJ no matter how much a stroke it!

    All of that is true, except the last bit. It just won’t blow you because you’re ugly. Your iPad thinks of me while you touch it. But again, we’re firmly in point-missing territory here.

    Right off the top, forget USB. Full-sized USB ports are thicker than the iPad, which means Apple would have had to make the thing chunkier just to accommodate them. And yeah, they could have fit Micro USB in there, but then you’d need an adapter for almost every device you wanted to plug into the thing. You’d end up with this dangling mess hanging off the side of a handheld computer, which makes no real sense.

    If anything, folks should be bitching at Apple for not providing us with a robust means of wirelessly moving data on and off the iPad. That’s one place where their initial design falls down, and falls hard. Having to go through iTunes to add files to a given app’s allotted file-space is an enormous pain in the ass… hopefully the OS update coming this fall will make some positive changes.

    But what about openness? Fuck “openness”, you whiny anarchist bitches! (Message from 2010: punk is dead and all you have left is Avril Lavigne. Commence weeping.) Openness is great for experimentation and exploration, and if those are big things that you want from a computing device, the iPad is not for you. The rest of us are tired of Facebook viruses, antivirus apps that slow down our machines while trying to kill Facebook viruses, and OSes so ill-conceived that antivirus apps are necessary in the first place.

    ‘Sides, “open” is a matter of perspective. It was great, back in the day, before everything was networked and you could run whatever shitty code struck your fancy without significant fear. But y’know what? A web browser –like the iPad’s Safari– is more programmable and more powerful than any of the Commodore 64s and Apple IIs of my misspent youth. If the only machine little Johnny Hacksalot can get his grubby mitts on is an iPad, there’s still plenty he can do to develop software and manipulate his computing environment. He just can’t completely fuck it up without buying the SDK and working at it.

    And if that isn’t enough, hell, I have an Atari ST in the garage that he can have for the wholly reasonable price of a CD full of naked pictures of his sister.

If Leo had an iPad, I might still be with him...

So what do I love about the iPad?

  • It’s fast. Really fast. I mean “wow, Bar Rafaeli just materialized and is lowering her naked body on to me, holy shit I see God, gosh I’m sleepy” fast. You tap an icon, and you’re working in a second or two. The relative sluggishness of the iPhone when switching from portrait to landscape is gone. ‘Tis heaven.
  • The screen is the best I’ve ever seen. Period. You won’t find anything like it on the $399 netbook you picked up at Best Buy. I haven’t watched any porn on it yet, but only because I’m afraid all that beauty will make me weep from my eyes in addition to my penis, and I like to keep my tissues single-purpose.
  • It just feels right. When you inevitably find yourself on the crapper watching a YouTube video of some kid setting his own pubic hair on fire, you’ll understand. It’s like you suddenly know what it must be like to be in James Kirk’s loo, squeezing out the Captain’s Mess while going over dilithium storage charts on one of those space-clipboards that hot-ass Yeoman Rand was always handing him. It feels like the future, is what I’m trying to say here.
  • On most portable electronics, “battery life” is a deceptive term. In reality, you’re really just counting the minutes until the fucker dies. The exception to this rule has been the Kindle, which can run for weeks on a single charge, but only manages that feat by pretending that colors don’t exist. (I suspect someone at Amazon never had his own box of crayons as a child.) The iPad strikes a splendid balance, running all day with ease and charging overnight while you sob quietly into your pillow and mourn all the things you never did because you were too busy buying gadgets.
  • Defying all expectations, the virtual keyboard is pretty frakkin’ good. In landscape mode, I can actually crank out text at a fair rate, and the autocorrect catches most of the mistakes I make. Oddly though, even though quieter than a conventional keyboard, the tap-tap-tapping on the glass screen is a little annoying… probably because the iPad is otherwise completely silent.
  • It’s all about the apps, man! The stuff that developers have cranked out so far barely scratch the surface of what the iPad can do, and they’re already pretty impressive. Within a couple months, there are gonna be some amazing tools out there to match up with all the amazing hardware.

Meanwhile, what sucks about this thing?

Hm. The hardware itself? Little to nothing. It’s a delight to the fingers and the eyes. I’d definitely have preferred onboard stereo speakers, and it could stand to shed an ounce or three, but that’s nit-picking. The software could use some scrutiny, though.

  • Goddamned iTunes! The first thing you have to do when you fire up the iPad is sync it to the most annoying app on your computer. And you have to do it tethered, since (as mentioned above) Apple hasn’t yet cracked the code for wireless backups/updates. If they’d just make iTunes suck a little less it would be more acceptable, but they’ve had most of a decade to work on it, and they’re clearly content to keep pissing me off.
  • The iPad ships with OS 3.2, which doesn’t include the fast app switching functions due to arrive with OS 4.0 in the fall. What this means is that trying to get serious work done can be hit or miss, depending on how much effort each app’s developer has applied to saving and restoring the state of the app when exiting and returning. Some do a great job, some blow horse cock. (Some do a good job of blowing horse cock, but enough about my Uncle Ralph.) Until the OS update comes to rescue us, we’re stuck with a variable quality experience.
  • Safari tends to reload pages a lot when switching tabs or apps. If you’re in the middle of writing an epic comment on some douchebag’s blog and this happens, you’ll lose your epicness and be struck by the urge to chuck the iPad across the room like one of those oversized throwing stars from Krull.
  • Even on a bigger device, text selection is still more awkward than I’d like. From what I’ve read, a Bluetooth keyboard helps a lot in this regard, but it’s still something Apple should consider an unfinished feature.
  • No clock app means no iPod sleep timer, which means I fall asleep listening to the History of Rome podcast and it keeps playing episode after episode, forcing me to spend all night dreaming about sweaty, half-naked dudes in togas. This might be okay for Ricky Martin’s iPad, but not mine.
  • Beyond that, there are a number of other complaints to be voiced, but I just watched the OS 4.0 keynote, and virtually all of them will be addressed six months from now. Multitasking, app navigation, you name it.

So what’s the verdict?

The iPad is fantastic. I love it, and use it for hours every day. If you do a lot of web browsing, spend a lot of time on Twitter, watch endless YouTube videos, or otherwise burn daylight typing in brief spurts and reading for long stretches, it’s for you. Absolutely. If you like to play games but don’t want to hog the TV with your Xbox, or need something bigger than even a Nintendo DSiXL, you’re set. And if you’re the kinda person for whom the iPhone has already replaced the laptop/desktop computer for a host of tasks, well, prepare to experience pure awesome.

If none of that describes you, the iPad will still impress you… perhaps enough to keep you using it long enough to perceive the possibilities it holds. And when OS 4.0 debuts, you’ll be able to turn all your new multi-touch experience into real work/play.

But if you’ve got a short attention span, you’re not a web power-surfer, and completely lack a soul like some sort of sparkly-skinned Twilight pansy, you’ll probably be kinda “meh” about it. For now.

What’s the future?

I say “for now”, first because I needed six letters and a space to satisfy my paragraph-based OCD, and second because you will own an iPad eventually. One developer is already working on a set of apps that allows the iPad to take control of individual windows on a Mac desktop… that means you get to leverage the full CPU, memory, and storage of a desktop machine on a gorgeous touchscreen that you hold in front of you.

I doubt it’ll be perfect out of the gate, and it may not be suitable for hardcore stuff like video editing. But the idea is there, and you can bet Apple will seize on it at some point. Once they build a similar system into the OS, touch interfaces will be on their way to omnipresence.

Don’t know about you, but I can’t wait.

Avengers #1, Part 1: Norse Gods & Mila Kunis

People in the ’60s were so baked. Take, for example, Stan Lee and Jack Kirby. Y’know those Spider-Man and Iron Man movies you loved so much? How about that Fantastic Four movie you endured, hoping Jessica’s Alba’s top would turn invisible or Michael Chiklis would finally show us what a dong made of orange rocks looks like? Or the Hulk movies that you didn’t watch at all because in the case of the first one, you’re still not sure who Ang Lee is, and as for the second, hey, Ed Norton and Liv Tyler… really?

Well, Stan co-created all of the characters inhabiting those flicks, teaming with both Kirby and a genius/batshit-crazy Objectivist named Steve Ditko to design the characters and stories that powered the recent $4 billion Disney buyout of Marvel Comics. And based on my reading of one of their milestone works, I’d say at least one member of the trio spent all of the early 1960s wasted out of his gourd. It’s that fucking nuts.

Avengers #1 cover iron man thor hulk thor ant-man wasp loki

"Earth's Mightiest Super-Heroes!" and "Ant Man!" are two exclamations that should never share the same space. In fact, the only time anyone should ever shout "Ant Man!" is immediately after someone else shouts "What the fuck did I just step on?!" and immediately prior to "Oh. Anyone have a tissue?"

The milestone in question is Avengers #1, released in 1963 for the whopping sum of 12 cents. In theory, the tale it tells will be the basis for the Avengers movie that Disney/Marvel will be releasing in 2012. I say “in theory” because any Hollywood screenwriter who tried to do a faithful rendition of this story would promptly find himself relegated to writing for Lifetime movies during the week and snorting coke off Joe Eszterhas’ hairy taint on the weekends.

The story begins with our villain –Loki, Norse god of evil and hella suave antler aficionado– doing that villainous thing where he stands around explaining to thin air why he’s pissed and what he’s gonna do about it.

avengers #1 panel 1

If I were Loki, stuck on the Isle of Silence with the ability to send my mind wherever I like, Thor would be the last thing on the agenda. My first priority? Let's just say "god of evil" and "respect for Mila Kunis' privacy" are mutually exclusive concepts.

Yeah, that's about right.

Yeah, that's about right.

So, after roaming the earth psychically for a few panels, Low-Key Lyesmith spots a giant green dude hopping around the countryside. A lesser god might have assumed this was Kermit getting his BALCO on, but Loki correctly identifies him as the “incredible” Hulk. (I maintain that a truly incredible Hulk would know better than to opt for purple pants.) Using an evil imagination honed by centuries of (apparently) playing Mousetrap, he plants an illusory TNT bundle near an oncoming train, which draws the attention of a clumsy Hulk, who –using his own special gamma-irradiated variation of Bến Tre logic– destroys the trestle while trying to save it. Aside from exercising his penchant for sheer dickishness, Loki’s goal here is to create a PR nightmare for the Hulk, which will draw Thor out of his secret identity and set him up to be… well, that part’s not clear at all.

You want a convoluted revenge scheme that requires dozens of variables to work out just so, in precise sequence, across multiple time zones and planes of existence? Loki’s your dude. Want a clearly defined goal? Not so much.

loki-dancing.jog

To say nothing of Loki, the master of busting pimp-ass victory dance moves!

Soon, word of the Hulk’s boo-boo is sweeping the nation, where it gets the attention of one Rick Jones, a character who spent at least a decade as the designated deus ex machina of the Marvel Universe. Jones could always be relied upon to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, fuck something up, or take a small problem and make it bigger. In that sense he was a bit like Scooby-Doo, only without the charm of palling around with a dirty hippie, a womens’ studies major, the hot bimbo she’s “studying”, and a guy so deep in the closet he doesn’t even realize how gay his ascot looks.

That doesn’t mean Rick didn’t have friends, though. He had his pals in The Teen Brigade, an informal organization of enterprising youth who, judging by this panel, included at least one crazy-eyed bastard.

Young and sensitive, little Charlie Manson always felt ignored at Teen Brigade meetings.

Young and sensitive, little Charlie Manson always felt ignored at Teen Brigade meetings. Fortunately, it had no impact whatsoever on his future mental stability.

In this case, Rick’s instinct is to try and contact the Fantastic Four on their “special wavelength”, hoping they will be able to peacefully contain the Hulk. Thanks to Loki’s intervention and Jack Kirby’s Cro-Magnon-like understanding of the principles of radio, Rick’s message goes astray and is picked up by others.

Which others? You’ll find out in our next installment! Or, you could, y’know, look at the cover image up at the top of this installment. Either way, I’m cool.

To be continued…

Angelo’s Steak Pit (Panama City Beach, FL)

It’s hard to miss Angelo’s Steak Pit, what with the giant bull in the parking lot. Nestled next to an assortment of kiddie parks and arcades, it even looks a bit like a roadside attraction of some sort.

It is an attraction, actually, if you find yourself unreasonably fond of beef. If you’ve got enough testosterone to generate stubble, this almost certainly includes you and the women who find your hairy ass appealing. (And if you’re an unhairy lady

If you hit the place a bit early in the evening, you won’t face a long wait. And why not go early? The necessary intake of nutrition should never conflict with the pursuit of inebriation and random acts of debauchery. So cruise in around 5:00ish, load up on fuel, and give yourself something so delicious that you won’t mind tasting it a second time at 2:00am.

And our meal at Angelo’s was delicious. It’s such a gloriously unsubtle experience that calling it “fare” or even “food” would be disrespectful… this stuff is grub. Pure, unvarnished, wonderfully prepared grub that pokes at the animalistic recesses of your brain and says, “Hey, this is how eating is supposed to be!”

After making our way to our table (note: you’ll need a GPS to find your way out of the mammoth collection of dining rooms), We ordered the breaded crab fingers as an appetizer, a ribeye with baked potato, and a filet mignon with fries… all of which came with the de rigeur soup/salad and house bread. The only disappointment was the salad, which appeared to have been deluged rather than dressed.

Both the steaks were ordered medium-rare, because let’s face it, you’re some kind of prissy wuss if you eat your beef without a moo echoing in the distance. The rib-eye was flawlessly cooked, and the filet nearly so, with a precise layer of seasoning and internal texture. For my money, the filet was also the finest cut of steak I’ve ever seen; huge, and yet devoid of even a single string of fat or gristle.

Our server (Mary) was cheerful and attentive, only slowing down when held up by the bartender. Speaking of booze, our drinks were well-mixed and not shy with the happy-making stuff.

If there’s a real downside to Angelo’s, it’s that the place is what it is… a provider of wonderful cuts of beef, with a few fish and chicken dishes thrown in. Great beef doesn’t come cheaply, so don’t expect to exit the building without leaving at least $20/person in the till. It’s worth every penny, of course, but those counting their loose change will want to take advantage of the evening’s special when possible.

TIP: The house bread is as great as everything else they serve, so those who live in fear of carbs, consider yourselves warned: that stuff is loaf-shaped crack.

Angelo’s Steak Pit
Panama City Beach, FL

Captain Anderson’s (Panama City Beach, FL)

Captain Anderson’s sits on Panama City’s harbor, providing pleasure cruises, fishing expeditions, and a seafood market to the area. It also offers up one seriously good restaurant.

The look of the place is as nautical as one might expect, with a focus on local maritime history. The lighting is on the dim side, which made navigating the largish dining room rather difficult for someone with my weak vision. Fortunately, I’m not the type to get up and wander away from my table during a meal, so it wasn’t a big deal.

CA’s is a family place, a description that often chills the blood of childless folks like me. Nothing kills a meal quicker than someone who decides to bring a screaming, running brat out for the evening. (Keep them to yourselves until you teach them to behave, people.) So I was pleased to note that there was a smoking section available for non-smokers looking for refuge from the joys of someone else’s parenthood.

We were escorted to our table promptly, even in the face of a Spring Break rush, and found the seats comfortable and the environment pleasant. The acoustics of the place are such that a full house generates a low, persistent rumble of conversation that provides just enough background noise to keep private conversations private without having to constantly lean in or raise your voice.

We had sauteed crab fingers to start, and they turned out to be far more satisfying than the battered and deep-fried version I tried at a different restaurant the night before.

My entree was a charcoal-broiled seafood platter, featuring shrimp, scallops, grouper, and stuffed crab. The first two were prepared perfectly, browned nicely without being even slightly overcooked. The grouper was prepared nicely, too, but I’m just not a big fan of the fish itself; flounder would have been a nice substitute.

The highlight of the meal, though, was the stuffed crab.The stuffing was delicious… flavorful and substantial, but never burying the flavor of the crab itself. Fantastic stuff.

When the check arrived, it left a dent in my credit card, but not out of proportion with the quality of the experience. With tip, dinner for two weighed in around $70, but could have been had for perhaps $20 less if we had avoided alcohol and the appetizer.

Hook’s (Panama City Beach, FL)

After banging up my ankle, I had to put Blogging the Break on hold for a day, just to heal up… so we had some lunch, checked out the marina, and headed back to the room to crash.

Hook’s is a fine little place with a fine little menu, assuming you enjoy an open-air view (and smell) of moored fishing boats. The jerk chicken is pretty damned fantastic, and in an inexplicably delightful surprise, they have some of the best chips-n-salsa I’ve yet experienced. (And I am an absolute bastard when it comes to salsa.) Given the relatively inexpensive prices and free chips, I’d say it’s a near-ideal stop for Breakers looking for something beyond the strip… assuming you can stand the outward facade of the Treasure Ship, which houses Hook’s. KiddieLand looks aside, give it a shot.

Attached are some shots of Hook’s and the marina itself.

Hooks PCB Florida front

Vinny T’s of Boston (Shrewsbury, MA)

An unexpected delight after a less-than-promising start, I was quite impressed with Vinny T’s. Things got off on the wrong foot with an over-crowded parking lot and an hour-long wait for a table. The only saving grace at that point was the friendly and outgoing waitstaff, and the semi-comfortable seating provided in the upstairs bar area.

But when we finally got a table, things started looking up. The menu offered a number of interesting options, and our waitress was the cheeriest person you could possibly meet on a cold, snowy New England night. She warned us in advance that Vinny T’s portion sizes were large, and thus to avoid the “due” orders unless we were planning to share.

We settled on the Mussels Pomodoro for an appetizer, and our jaws dropped when the plate arrived. It was massive… absolutely piled with hardshell goodness, at least thirty of ‘em. Great value for the money, definitely. And I’m a bit of a red-sauce snob, so when I say the Pomodoro was excellent, it comes as high praise.

After that, the actual entrees were a bit of a let-down, but not by much. First, the guidance of our waitress was borne out by the plates that arrived at our table… my wife’s Linguine in Clam Sauce and my Calamari Fra Diavolo came in heaped portions on large, oval plates. So the first lesson of Vinny T’s is this: unless you have a bottomless gut or a desire for leftovers, buy one plate for every two people and just share.

I consider calamari a litmus test for a restaurant, because so many get it wrong. Too often, I see over- or undercooked meat that is rubbery and tasteless. So it was immediately pleasing to note that the rings yielded easily to the tooth, and had benefitted from a long soak in the spicy Fra Diavolo. The sauce didn’t approach the Pomodoro’s excellence, but it was above-average, and very good.

Highly recommended.

Tweed’s (Northboro, MA)

Another place that gave an initial bad impression. As the hostess led us to our table, we had to pass a waitress who was picking up plates from a table. As I walked by, she brought back an elbow and caught my hip, nearly dropping her plates. I immediately apologized for politeness sake, expecting something similar in return… instead, she simply glowered at me and turned away. Not a good sign, although in fairness, the rest of the staff seemed acceptably pleasant.

Our appetizer was a plate of crab-stuffed mushroom caps. I thought the melted cheese atop each ‘shroom was too much, and detracted from the delicate stuffing… but it was tasty all the same.

My meal was a broiled seafood platter, featuring a light breadcrumb crust over haddock, shrimp, and sea scallops in a lemon-butter sauce. The result was a pleasant, filling dinner that fell well-short of exciting.

NOTE: My better half urges me to mention the Jack Frost, a frozen Lynchburg Lemonade that she had at Tweed’s. She loved every sip, and recommends it highly.

Overall, I’d say give Tweed’s a try. Not exactly recommended, but good enough to pass in a pinch.

Da’ Boat

Tulsa’s Da’ Boat is a rather unassuming little place. The sign isn’t flashy, and while the exterior is pleasant, it does live in a slightly above-average strip mall. It would be easy to pass the place by, based solely upon a glance.

And things don’t improve immensely upon walking through the door. We visited on a blistering, 100 degree Sunday afternoon, and they didn’t have any air conditioning. If you’re at all sensitive to heat, stay away from Da’ Boat during summer… they’ll fry you right beside your clams. Ceiling fans just won’t cut it on a day like that.

From there, though, things begin to look up considerably. The place is cozy, with only a handful of tables and a couple dozen barstools. (The occupancy sign claimed they could handle fifty souls, but I’d consider that ambitious.) The staff was very friendly and quite attentive, keeping the cold drinks flowing.

Our appetizer came in the form of a trio of stuffed crabs. I was slightly disappointed with the crab-to-crumb ratio, but my dining partner loved it. In fairness, I thought it was a great starter… I just wouldn’t order them as an entree.

My wife had a fried clam strip platter, which she loved. The clams were fried perfectly golden, with a delightfully crispy breading that didn’t get soggy as she slowly ate her fill. She’s a New England girl at heart, and they passed the test presented by her sometimes snooty Yankee tastebuds.

I ordered a small portion of blackened swordfish, with grilled vegetables and fries. My first thought upon seeing my plate was: “This is small?” The fish was cut thin, but it was still pretty big, and more than sufficient for most lunchtime diners. And wow, was it tasty! Perfectly cooked by a chef who clearly understands the distinction between “blackened” and “burned to a crisp”, it was fantastic. The grilled zuchinni made for a solid accompaniment, although I might have preferred thicker slices.

As for the price, it was extremely reasonable. Although I’d pay more if they’d be willing to kick on the air.

Heartily recommended.

Da’ Boat
Tulsa, OK