Beer Goggled and Brain Addled

Last week I made my first visit to St Louis and wanted to make the most of my 40 hours there. Take away sleeping left 24 hours to fill. Round the clock sandwiches.
Planning ahead a bit I turned to my reliable source, the Bottle Rockets message board. They are a St Louis band, you know, and a sandwich thread on the board sparked this cyber lunch encounter. St Louis Bottle Rockets fans would have the goods on Missouri wiches.

With you being such a sandwich aficionada, I think you owe it to yourself to try one of St. Louis’ famous fried brain sandwiches. Used to be several places in South city that served em, but not sure how many there are now. One place I know of that still has them is Ferguson’s Pub.
cur dog

I had a brain sandwich one time. I was drunk. Got it at a bar called “Pat’s”, right across Highway 40 from the zoo. I don’t remember it having much flavor, other than what was on top of it, onions and mayo. Remember it having the same consistency of a McDonald’s Filet-O-Fish. It neither repulsed, or, aroused me. It’s sort of like a St. Paul sandwich, with less flavor.
Brian

Gotta get you some? Ferguson’s got em! Ferguson’s kept hours that worked with the smidgen of time I had to nab a fried brain sandwich. After ordering, a bit of tourist paranoia washed over me as the minutes chugged by in slo-mo. Three Bud Lites later the plastic plates circled on their bottom rims – wa waa waaa – on the table and settled. They split it for us, pile ‘o pickles a piece. Nice. Chewed several bites thoughtfully, then wolfed it and bolted. The next meal was at our heels.

When I used to work near downtown STL, I made a lunch excursion down to Carondelet in far South City to get a brain sandwich. I didn’t get my sandwich, but I did get to hear the waitress say “we’re all outta brains today” with a straight face. Can’t remember what the place was called, though. I’ve still never tried a brain sandwich, but I did have a brain taco several years ago in De Kalb, IL.
decent e

I know this picture is horribly dark but I was handicapped. Did not want to use a flash in a dark, neighborhood bar on a packed Friday night. Nor did I want to take my plate and stroll outside to the pavement where there was still some daylight. Be right ba-a-a-ck.

Further investigation will take you here:

Scott Simon discusses how”…residents of one town in Indiana continue to eat a local delicacy, the fried brain sandwich” in spite of current health concerns. (Psssst, mad cow disease.)

Those who know me, and many who don’t, have probably been unfortunate enough to be bludgeoned with my rant on brains and other offal. The rant goes, if you need me for food, please don’t eat just the parts that our American mores say aren’t icky. Please don’t eat my tenderloin and toss away my liver.

Please don’t bury me down in that cold cold ground
I’d rather have ’em cut me up and pass me all around
Randy Newman

Use my ears for sausage, my bones for nice hot soup
All the tough and chewy parts cook slow and low for stew
Fry my brains for sandwiches, with beer to wash em down
BBQ or smoke the stuff that folks don’t eat uptown.

If anyone gets up close and personal to my brain I would like the lights to be dimmed, corner bar style. A tall cold one on a cardboard coaster, too please, and make it the third round by the time you get to inspecting my brain. It’s madness in there, alright.