Dining With Elvis

Barclays Pub Rockridge

As some of you may know, Elvis Presley is alive and well and lives in a room in my house. Every month we choose a new restaurant in The Bay Area and eat, drink, and talk about the old days. We each review the restaurant from our unique perspectives.

The Search For The Perfect Fish ‘n’ Chips

Barclays Pub 5940 College Avenue Oakland CA (near Rockridge BART)

     Our first review is of Barclays Pub in the Rockridge neighborhood of Oakland. I was craving something British to eat, and Elvis wanted some comfort food. Elvis still loves cheeseburgers and fries, but was reluctant to be seen eating fried food as he felt it re-enforced a negative stereotype regarding his eating habits. Of course he didn’t really say it like that; I’m translating. Elvis is 74 now and still drawls a little and cusses far too often for a man that grew up singing gospel music, but far from being an older caricature of his former-self, he looks quite distinguished with short gray hair and is in fairly decent shape. I assured him that no one would make fun of him, as everyone in the world believes he died in 1977.
       When seen together in dining situations Elvis and I come and go with anonymity. Restaurant employees and patrons alike do not know they are in the same room as “The Bay Area Brit” and they’re oblivious to being in the presence of a man once known as “The King.”
      We pass for a sort of “Odd Couple” version of a father and son.

I ordered the Fish and Chips. The fish was a beer-battered Pacific Snapper. The portion was huge. I joked to Elvis, “We’re gonna need a bigger plate.” A reference to the movie “Jaws.” Elvis just looked at me with a confused look on his face.

         “Why don’t you just ask for one, then?” he said without a trace of a recognition.
         “No, it’s from Jaws, Elv…I mean, Alan.” I call him Alan to reduce the chance of anyone recognizing him. It was also his codename at Graceland.
          ”Oh, yeah, the film about the shark, right. I saw that. Man, I almost pissed in my jumpsuit when that thing leapt out at those guys on the damned boat.”

"We're gonna need a bigger plate."

Elvis’s burger finally arrived (he’d sent it back twice claiming it still wasn’t cooked enough. Personally I think that this sort of behavior is unacceptable, but who am I to argue with Elvis Presley?) He’d ordered it extra well done. “That mad cow disease is all well and good for you limeys, but I ain’t dying over it.” Elvis is a bit paranoid, and the burger came back from the kitchen looking like a hockey puck but he was satisfied and ate voraciously.
My fish was tasty and moist. The chips, which claimed to be cut English-style, were very good, but not quite fat enough to pass. The chips in a “fish ‘n’ chips” dish should be the size of a thumb and a little soggy. They should be piping burn-the-roof-of-your-mouth hot and doused in salt and vinegar.

Elvis was very happy with the fries though and contemplated ordering another side of them. “Now, now, that’s just what the old Elvis would do,” I whispered. Elvis suddenly noticed a guitar hanging on the wall near the door and suggested he could pay for our lunch by singing a song or two. “You know like in my movies.”
”I don’t know. I think that’s a bad idea, pal.” He pulled a sour face after I shot down his suggestion.

Overall it was a good effort for an American British-style pub. I paid the bill and Elvis said he wanted to leave the tip. In the old days he’d do things like leave the keys to a Cadillac if he thought the waitress was cute. Fortunately for us, he doesn’t have that kind of money at his disposal anymore.

Dining Wih Elvis Speisekammer in Alameda

As some of you may know, Elvis Presley is alive and well and lives in a room in my house. Every month we choose a new restaurant to visit in The Bay Area. We eat, drink, and talk about the old days.

It was Elvis’s pick this month and I gave my colon a pep talk believing “The King” would likely take me to the greasiest spoon in the world. I tried to talk him into selecting a place that served fish ‘n’ chips so that I might continue my search for the best in the Bay Area.

When Elvis told me he wanted to check out a German restaurant in Alameda called Speisekammer, I was surprised.

2424 Lincoln Ave., Alameda, CA

     “Man, you know I like the wiener,” Elvis said, completely straight-faced.
     “You like ‘the wiener,’” I said, trying not to laugh.
He said it again, and then upon realizing what he’d been saying, slapped me across the back of my head.
      “Make fun of an old man wouldya?”
      “Sorry, Alan,” I said, using Elvis’s Graceland codename. “Let’s get a beer at the bar. I need to get my throat lubed up if I’m going to be swallowing wiener.” I shot Elvis a cheeky grin and he just scowled at me. “Sorry, King,” I whispered. “No more, I promise.”

       Elvis was stationed in Germany in the late 1950s and during that time discovered a penchant for real German food. We took our beers to the table and Elvis looked over the menu.
      “What the hell are ‘German Fries?’” he said.
      “I don’t know, mate,” I said. “What the hell are French Fries? I mean they’re talking about chips aren’t they? I’ll tell you what, Alan, order some and we’ll check their little passports.”

Ketchup by Heinz?

Elvis ordered the Bratwurst: two pork sausages served with sauerkraut and mashed potatoes and mustard. When Elvis’s food arrived, I glanced at his plate and quickly looked down at my beer and smiled. He stabbed at a sausage with his fork and waved it at me.
“I swear to God if you make another pecker joke…” God bless him, but I swear he makes more inappropriate jokes than anyone I know; especially when it comes to discussing his own “wiener.”

Two wieners, und I'm ze only plate, ya.

    Our “German Fries” arrived and as I suspected they were just normal fries, perfect in every way, though. Elvis asked me if I’d ever had Spätzle.
       “Gezundheit,” I said.
       “No, Spätzle, you dang stupid Limey. It’s like Mac and Cheese, but for grown-ups.”

Spätzle is like a savory desert-treat

In an attempt to still get some variation of my fish ‘n’ chip craving, I ordered the Gegrillte Lachsfilet which was a grilled salmon fillet with mashed potatoes, spinach and cucumber-dill sauce. The salmon was so fresh it tasted like it had been hoisted from a stream that afternoon. I watched Elvis inhale a sausage and wished he’d break his “no paparazzi” rule and let me take a picture of him. “Man, this is as good as I remember,” he smiled, as I wiped a little dollop of mustard from the side of his face with my napkin.

      The band began to set up their instruments, and Elvis looked at the stage longingly. “Do you think I should ask if I can sit in with them for a song or two.”
      “Come on, Alan, you know you shouldn’t try to draw attention to yourself,” I said. “Anyway, we should be getting you back home. There’s a Golden Girls marathon on Lifetime. You know how much you love that Betty White.”
        “Man, I sure do. Did I ever tell you I let her…”
        “Meet Little Elvis?” I interrupted, resisting the urge to use the word wiener. He furrowed his eyebrows a little.
        “No, I was actually going to say ‘let her……beat me at Scrabble.’”
        “Sure you were, Elvis, sure you were,” I whispered, as I helped him out of his seat.

For more background, read the first “Dining With Elvis” here:

http://thebayareabrit.com/2010/03/02/dining-with-elvis/