Not in the clamor of the crowded street, not in the shouts and plaudits of the throng, but in ourselves, are triumph and defeat.--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

REDIRECT ALERT! (Scroll down past this mess if you're trying to read an archived post. Thanks. No, really, thanks.)

Due to my inability to control my temper and complacently accept continued silliness with not-quite-as-reliable-as-it-ought-to-be Blogger/Blogspot, your beloved Possumblog will now waddle across the Information Dirt Road and park its prehensile tail at http://possumblog.mu.nu.

This site will remain in place as a backup in case Munuvia gets hit by a bus or something, but I don't think they have as much trouble with this as some places do. ::cough::blogspot::cough:: So click here and adjust your links. I apologize for the inconvenience, but it's one of those things.

Friday, February 06, 2004


Mike Hollihan of Half-Bakered fame left a comment below about yesterday’s lunch post:

I'm curious. Is the Social Grill still open? My brother and I used to get lunch there all the time in the mid-Eighties. It was a meat and three, with rolls and tea, cafeteria run by a Greek family. Kinda run down then, but a great bargain and good food.

Well, Mike, it is indeed still kicking, as it has been since, well, forever. Here’s a link to a Bhamdining.com review from a couple of years back that might interest all of you out-of-towners here for the Mercedes Marathon.

Why do we keep going back to the Social Grill? There are plenty of other meat-and-three places in town, places where the greens taste fresher, the tables match, and the turkey gravy doesn't glow a lurid yellow thanks to food coloring.
But there's something about this run-down, downtown institution. Maybe it's the sense of history, of days when a trip downtown meant shopping at Pizitz, meeting under the clock at Loveman's and eating at Britling's Cafeteria. The ghosts of patrons who could get a cheap, homestyle meal seem to rattle around in the four dining rooms between the warped paneling walls, the inexpensive, faded landscapes on the walls, and the yellowed framed newspaper clippings, while Muzak plays softly in the background. […]

Ahhhh. Now THAT’S atmosphere, folks!

For the hoity-toity amongst you, think of it as Birmingham’s own little version of Le Chartier.

Or not.

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