Hu-Hot’s Revenge
The Lovely Mrs. G. and I went to a local Mongolian Grill restaurant last night – “Hu-Hot”. (They’re a chain; check your Yellow Pages.) And this morning, I’m paying the price for it. ‘Hu-Hot’s Revenge’ isn’t nearly as vengeful as 'Montezuma’s Revenge', but it’s still not something you want to discuss over high tea with polite company.
If you’ve never been to one of these Mongolian Grill places, they can be a lot of fun. (Emphasis on “can”.) The problem last night was that the background music WAS JUST TOO DAMN LOUD. Apparently in between burning and pillaging villages, the Mongolians like bad 80’s music.
All throughout our meal, all you could hear was Wham!, Air Supply, Janet Jackson, and other washed-up bands who are probably playing live in restaurants like this somewhere right now. You couldn’t hear yourself think, much less listen to your lovely spouse, who was sitting across from you, her eardrums bleeding from the volume.
Regardless, the dinner format at the Mongolian Grill is mostly a do-it-yourself stir-fry arrangement. They’ve got a long salad bar-type setup, where you take a small bowl, then fill it up with raw foodstuffs. Start with some meat, add some noodles, top it with some fresh veggies, then douse the whole thing in some sauces and oil. It’s goopy, but by golly it’s the freshest dinner this side of a dockside sushi bar.
After filling your bowl with whatever turns you on, you march the whole gloppy bowl of Hu-stuff over to the grill, where a sweaty guy takes it and throws it on the stove for a couple minutes of stir fry action. Actually, thanks to some obscure health regulation, it’s considerably longer than “a couple of minutes”. They cook the hell out of the meat, to the point that “well done” isn’t even recognizable. Ever want to see previously thin sliced frozen beef cooked to the point it looks more like Corn Flakes? Come to Hu-Hot.
When they’re finally done cooking all semblance of sin and/or texture out of your food, the happy-yet-sweaty “Hu-chef” slides it off the grill onto a (thankfully) clean plate, and you walk back over to your table, carrying your now fully cooked, totally customized dinner. Enjoy!
What’s fun is to stand at the grill while your food is being cooked and look to see what the other patrons around you are having grilled up at the same time. The raw-salad bar has probably close to 80 different items, so no two dinners are ever the same. Some people have 90 percent meat and very little in the way of vegetables, and others have a purely vegan adventure.
But the most fun to watch is the little kids and the piggy Iowa farmers.
The kids will bring up a bowl with maybe 4 or 5 things in it – one ear of baby corn, a couple of pieces of pineapple, and maybe a sliver of frozen chicken. But the piggy Iowa farmers? Apparently they don’t get the whole concept that you’re allowed to go back up for more food, because they’ll jam as much stuff into their little bowls as humanly possible. I’ve literally seen some bowls stacked a good 8 inches high with food, like a twisted version of the Leaning Tower of Pisa. All of this dripping in sauce and garlic oil – as if to say, “Here, young man stuck working at the grill, fry up this bad boy! I’ve got an entire horde to feed!” But no – it’s all for one guy in dirty bib overalls and a Husker cap.
So it’s definitely dinner and a show at Hu-Hot. And with Jack Wagner’s sappy “All I Need” blaring at you at maximum volume (“the numbers all go up to eleven”), it’s even a musical. And that’s all before you get home, where Hu-Hot’s Revenge kicks in. Urp.
Still, it was a nice evening out with the Lovely Mrs. G., whose company I thoroughly enjoy, despite the tinnitus in my ears and the disturbance in the Dark Side of the Intestinal Force. And it sure beats the hell out of Mickey D’s, so bonus points to Attila the Hun and his pals at Hu-Hot.
Now I think I’d better go pillage up some Tums.
If you’ve never been to one of these Mongolian Grill places, they can be a lot of fun. (Emphasis on “can”.) The problem last night was that the background music WAS JUST TOO DAMN LOUD. Apparently in between burning and pillaging villages, the Mongolians like bad 80’s music.
All throughout our meal, all you could hear was Wham!, Air Supply, Janet Jackson, and other washed-up bands who are probably playing live in restaurants like this somewhere right now. You couldn’t hear yourself think, much less listen to your lovely spouse, who was sitting across from you, her eardrums bleeding from the volume.
Regardless, the dinner format at the Mongolian Grill is mostly a do-it-yourself stir-fry arrangement. They’ve got a long salad bar-type setup, where you take a small bowl, then fill it up with raw foodstuffs. Start with some meat, add some noodles, top it with some fresh veggies, then douse the whole thing in some sauces and oil. It’s goopy, but by golly it’s the freshest dinner this side of a dockside sushi bar.
After filling your bowl with whatever turns you on, you march the whole gloppy bowl of Hu-stuff over to the grill, where a sweaty guy takes it and throws it on the stove for a couple minutes of stir fry action. Actually, thanks to some obscure health regulation, it’s considerably longer than “a couple of minutes”. They cook the hell out of the meat, to the point that “well done” isn’t even recognizable. Ever want to see previously thin sliced frozen beef cooked to the point it looks more like Corn Flakes? Come to Hu-Hot.
When they’re finally done cooking all semblance of sin and/or texture out of your food, the happy-yet-sweaty “Hu-chef” slides it off the grill onto a (thankfully) clean plate, and you walk back over to your table, carrying your now fully cooked, totally customized dinner. Enjoy!
What’s fun is to stand at the grill while your food is being cooked and look to see what the other patrons around you are having grilled up at the same time. The raw-salad bar has probably close to 80 different items, so no two dinners are ever the same. Some people have 90 percent meat and very little in the way of vegetables, and others have a purely vegan adventure.
But the most fun to watch is the little kids and the piggy Iowa farmers.
The kids will bring up a bowl with maybe 4 or 5 things in it – one ear of baby corn, a couple of pieces of pineapple, and maybe a sliver of frozen chicken. But the piggy Iowa farmers? Apparently they don’t get the whole concept that you’re allowed to go back up for more food, because they’ll jam as much stuff into their little bowls as humanly possible. I’ve literally seen some bowls stacked a good 8 inches high with food, like a twisted version of the Leaning Tower of Pisa. All of this dripping in sauce and garlic oil – as if to say, “Here, young man stuck working at the grill, fry up this bad boy! I’ve got an entire horde to feed!” But no – it’s all for one guy in dirty bib overalls and a Husker cap.
So it’s definitely dinner and a show at Hu-Hot. And with Jack Wagner’s sappy “All I Need” blaring at you at maximum volume (“the numbers all go up to eleven”), it’s even a musical. And that’s all before you get home, where Hu-Hot’s Revenge kicks in. Urp.
Still, it was a nice evening out with the Lovely Mrs. G., whose company I thoroughly enjoy, despite the tinnitus in my ears and the disturbance in the Dark Side of the Intestinal Force. And it sure beats the hell out of Mickey D’s, so bonus points to Attila the Hun and his pals at Hu-Hot.
Now I think I’d better go pillage up some Tums.
posted by Tommy G at
9:25 AM
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