Hi. My name's Carol, and I love food. No, you don't understand. I love food. If I were on the Titanic, I'd be in the galley (kitchen) eating up the chocolate pudding and the roasted quail. I go to most events, activities and parties just for the food. The company and the conversation are secondary. Here, I'll try to document everything that goes into my mouth. Aren't we excited? Oh, hey, are you gonna eat that?
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Assembly-line Tourist Chowder
Me and my family had high hopes when we walked into a busy Mo's Chowder--at their Lincoln City restaurant. After all, we'd been told to not miss this place when we traveled to the Oregon Coast, it's an institution. Everybody loves the chowder at Mo's.
Really? Everybody, meaning everybody loves Hallmark cards, Nordstrom sales, and those god awfully unfunny white-trash National Lampoon Chevy Chase Vacation movies?
In that case, I'm glad to say we hated Mo's. Okay, we didn't hate it. The food wasn't horrible. It was just, bleh... typical brand-name, assembly-line, factory-churned chained-franchise fare.
The chowder itself, which I ordered in a cannonball (supposedly a sourdough bread bowl), was fairly bland. The bread bowl barely sourdough--lord how I miss San Francisco, way too soft, mealy, and almost stale in texture. The broth was barely there, with a way too heavy cream base that overpowered everything into nothing much at all.
When we sat down to eat, I almost bailed on the whole chowder experience for the chilled Oregon Bay Shrimp Cocktail and something in an equally chilly Crab and Salmon, Bouillabaisse, or even a giant bowl of steamed clams in butter and wine, sopped up by bread with butter.
Maybe I should've.