“They’re closed.”
The sentence oozed out my mouth, slick with defeat and disappointment.
“Damn dude. Where do you want to go now?”
My fellow Foodbeast, Pete, also reached the same depth of discouragement that I now wallowed in. His voice wavered, hoping that we didn’t drive all the way out to Downtown Los Angeles from Orange County for nothing.
Knowing damn well that gas is expensive and not being able to eat at our intended target restaurant on our Foodbeast adventure of the day is but a mere setback, I snapped myself back to reality and started to rifle through my extensive mental index of all things food related.
The objective: a Foodbeast-worthy meal of the usual epic proportions.
I was able to hone in on a fabled dish that I had only heard of in passing; one that was a diabolical surf ‘n turf iteration that went by a name so badass that one could easily fathom its magnitude of legendary: Chum Killer.
To know the legendary Chum Killer is to know three levels of gastric bliss: the first, crispy french fries steeped in ground beef, spicy sausage, savory gravy and fiery Cajun spices; the second, velvety cheese, melted right over said fries creating a glorious, oozing buffer between the fries and the third and final level made up of golden, succulent fried shrimp crowning its entire majesty.
We’ve found our Plan B.
Since Google is everyone’s friend, I soon found myself on the phone with Samir Akel, manager of Orleans & York Deli in Downtown Los Angeles, home of the Chum Killer. I told him of our intention to go toe-to-toe with the mythical dish and that we were in the area, ready and willing. With approval from Samir to come through, Pete and I were soon on the chase.
Upon arrival at Orleans & York, we were met by Samir, who was more than happy to introduce us to our formidable opponent for lunch. At last, the once unreal revealed itself onto our appetites, letting our palates get acquainted with its all at once savory, peppery, and zesty profile. There was proper crunch from the fries and shrimp in every bite, met with the melty goodness of cheese, then anchored by a luscious kind of savory from the gravy.
Wait, what dimension were we in again? The varying levels of deliciousness weren’t computing with mine and Pete’s minds initially. Clearly, the adjustment to such a delectable dish was a good thing.
All in all, the Chum Killer was surreal. Just one imposing heap of Cajun temptation. With all the storied hoopla surrounding it, having finally indulged in the Chum Killer was definitely a unique enough experience to qualify it as a legit Foodbeast-worthy meal adventure, one that salvaged a mission that in the end didn’t derail from the original objective of epic taste and eye-popping visuals.
