Inky
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Registered: Feb 2001
Location: Oakland-ish
Posts: 6032 |
Caveman Kitchens in Kent, Washington.
The Caveman was (is) a dingy little smoke house that sits alongside the road in the tiny town of Kent. It is take out only, although there is a small patch of grass with some picnic tables and an old covered wagon type dealy that you could sit in. Chickens wander loose scravenging for ground score. Close by is a little store where you can buy a can of beer to drink with your meal.
The Caveman was run by Richard Donelly, a retired Boeing machinist, who built this special smoker. In the beginning that was all he did: custom smoke meats. He attracted the attention of Julia Child, who brought her wild game to the Caveman to smoke.
Caveman advertised his smoke house by word of mouth. On the walls surrounding the order counter there were tons of frames filled with signed photos of big rock bands, who, while in Seattle had their meals catered by the Caveman, or letters from people around the world singing the praises of his BBQ. Many letters from Ms. Child thanking him for the wonderful smoked salmon or ham that they had served at Christmas that year.
But for the most part it was the regulars who kept the place going, all the folks from Boeing and the large industrial complexes located nearby. The food brought them there and kept them coming back.
The food....mmmmm....
I always got the chicken dinner. Half a chicken smoked so that the skin was kinda crisp and greenish, the flesh full of flavor and so moist and juicy it just fell off the bone. A container of baked beans, potato salad and a big chunk of hot buttered white bread. Oh yeah, and a big cold bottle of beer.
And BBQ sauce. LOTS of it.
It just didn't get any better than that.
Caveman was a family business and they knew how to treat their customers...like family. When you placed your order the girl would write your name and your order on the paper bag it would eventually come to in. Most of the time there was a line up, and now and again she would stop taking orders for a minute and grab some tasty thing they had just made and hand it out to everyone to try. Or tell us to guess numbers between one and one hundred and she would pick 5 of us and give us something special in our bag. The she'd holler out your name when your food was ready, and maybe even flirt with you a bit as she handed you your bag, you know, a wink and a "come back soon, darlin'", that lovely warm American hospitality. One night my battery died in my old Bug and the staff dropped everything to come out and push my car.
Donelly swore he would never franchise his business, and he died keeping his word, although his family did open another small Caveman in Seattle, it was never as good.
Any time I pass through Kent I go have some Caveman chicken. When I lived there I had it once a week, at least. It was just that good.
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