Monday May 17th 2010
Tudor’s Biscuit World, 4116 First Ave, Nitro, WV
We’d been driving in silence for a couple hours by the time Noah leaned over from the back seat and asked if I was getting hungry yet.
“Yes.”, I told him, “I am.” The “meatbag” our newly college graduated friends had shared with us the night before in Lexington at their no-mess no-grills barbecue was no longer powering me like I needed it to.
“Well, take the Nitro exit then, it should be coming up soon.”
“They got something good there?”, I asked. He stuttered a bit and emitted a few odd sounds, searching for the proper words to explain to me what was going to happen.
“Tudor’s Biscuit World.”, he eventually got out. “That’s where we’re going.” The man had a serious plan, and this wasn’t the first I’d heard of it. He’d mentioned it a week or so back, “We gotta go to Tudor’s Biscuit World when we’re in West Virginia.”, he spoke longingly of it, and it being his native state, his turf, I wasn’t about to interfere.
Inside, I started reading the menu from the left, browsing through average breakfast plate selections, nothing too special. I was trying to figure out how much I wanted to eat and how much I wanted to spend. Would some scrambled eggs and some toast be enough? It was when I heard Noah order something with a name along the lines of “The Mountaineer”, that I realized I must have been looking at the wrong part of the menu. That’s when I discovered the breakfast biscuit sandwich section.
“The Mountaineer” describes a breakfast sandwich that is brave, tough, satisfying, a real mans sandwich. When I heard the name I imagined a cross between Conan the Barbarian and the guy from Brawny paper towels eating a whole one in a single bite and then just slamming an axe clear through a log, effortlessly. That’s how I knew it probably wasn’t the sandwich for me. It was the one below it that was really catching my eye, “The Thundering Herd”. With a name like that, a lot could go wrong.
A confusing number system had been implemented where once you ordered they’d give you a tray and a tent shaped green card with a number on it, which presumably you would either leave at the edge of your table so they’d know where to bring the food, or you could trade it back to them when they called the number as proof you actually ordered and paid. Regardless, I didn’t get one, so I stood in the aisle next to our table for a little bit, waiting to see if they’d bring it by. Awkwardly the waitress and I locked into several avant-dance routines as I, being in an inconvenient place, accidentally ended up blocking her every time she tried to squeeze by to deliver some food and then get back into the aisle.
The delivery of my “Thundering Herd” came with great relief. Well, relief that it came. For some reason I was expecting it to bear some resemblance to a volcano, a biscuit tower spewing molten breakfast unmentionables across the whole plate. Instead it looked like this; a sloppy sausage, egg, and cheese, biscuit with the exciting addition of a hash brown patty. I sneered when I saw it, believing myself capable of easily housing two, but it only took a couple bites for me to retract my initial opinion and realize that I was in deep this time. What I was messing with was no joke, no sir. I think my ‘at the moment’ review was, “The Thundering Herd is kind of intense.”, to which Jeremy nodded in agreement, maybe in a comatose state from having just finished his.
It was the hash brown patty that really took it over the edge, because we’re not talking the kind of hash browns that actually resemble potatoes, we’re talking the kind that are just like a puck shaped grease sponge that by chance happened to be made with potato products, comparable to eating a regular breakfast sandwich with a slab of hot Vaseline in it.
By the end my insides were slick, coated in a thick grease layer that I could tell would take some time to wear away. We weren’t a talkative bunch that day, before Tudor’s and especially not after. I sought solace in this wreath that had been pleasantly tacked up by our table. Tudor’s Biscuit World, a West Virginia treat.
We’d been driving in silence for a couple hours by the time Noah leaned over from the back seat and asked if I was getting hungry yet.
“Yes.”, I told him, “I am.” The “meatbag” our newly college graduated friends had shared with us the night before in Lexington at their no-mess no-grills barbecue was no longer powering me like I needed it to.
“Well, take the Nitro exit then, it should be coming up soon.”
“They got something good there?”, I asked. He stuttered a bit and emitted a few odd sounds, searching for the proper words to explain to me what was going to happen.
“Tudor’s Biscuit World.”, he eventually got out. “That’s where we’re going.” The man had a serious plan, and this wasn’t the first I’d heard of it. He’d mentioned it a week or so back, “We gotta go to Tudor’s Biscuit World when we’re in West Virginia.”, he spoke longingly of it, and it being his native state, his turf, I wasn’t about to interfere.
Inside, I started reading the menu from the left, browsing through average breakfast plate selections, nothing too special. I was trying to figure out how much I wanted to eat and how much I wanted to spend. Would some scrambled eggs and some toast be enough? It was when I heard Noah order something with a name along the lines of “The Mountaineer”, that I realized I must have been looking at the wrong part of the menu. That’s when I discovered the breakfast biscuit sandwich section.
“The Mountaineer” describes a breakfast sandwich that is brave, tough, satisfying, a real mans sandwich. When I heard the name I imagined a cross between Conan the Barbarian and the guy from Brawny paper towels eating a whole one in a single bite and then just slamming an axe clear through a log, effortlessly. That’s how I knew it probably wasn’t the sandwich for me. It was the one below it that was really catching my eye, “The Thundering Herd”. With a name like that, a lot could go wrong.
A confusing number system had been implemented where once you ordered they’d give you a tray and a tent shaped green card with a number on it, which presumably you would either leave at the edge of your table so they’d know where to bring the food, or you could trade it back to them when they called the number as proof you actually ordered and paid. Regardless, I didn’t get one, so I stood in the aisle next to our table for a little bit, waiting to see if they’d bring it by. Awkwardly the waitress and I locked into several avant-dance routines as I, being in an inconvenient place, accidentally ended up blocking her every time she tried to squeeze by to deliver some food and then get back into the aisle.
The delivery of my “Thundering Herd” came with great relief. Well, relief that it came. For some reason I was expecting it to bear some resemblance to a volcano, a biscuit tower spewing molten breakfast unmentionables across the whole plate. Instead it looked like this; a sloppy sausage, egg, and cheese, biscuit with the exciting addition of a hash brown patty. I sneered when I saw it, believing myself capable of easily housing two, but it only took a couple bites for me to retract my initial opinion and realize that I was in deep this time. What I was messing with was no joke, no sir. I think my ‘at the moment’ review was, “The Thundering Herd is kind of intense.”, to which Jeremy nodded in agreement, maybe in a comatose state from having just finished his.
It was the hash brown patty that really took it over the edge, because we’re not talking the kind of hash browns that actually resemble potatoes, we’re talking the kind that are just like a puck shaped grease sponge that by chance happened to be made with potato products, comparable to eating a regular breakfast sandwich with a slab of hot Vaseline in it.
By the end my insides were slick, coated in a thick grease layer that I could tell would take some time to wear away. We weren’t a talkative bunch that day, before Tudor’s and especially not after. I sought solace in this wreath that had been pleasantly tacked up by our table. Tudor’s Biscuit World, a West Virginia treat.
dude i just had tudors biscuit world last week, that shit is no joke at all! its AMAZING
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