Foghorn Seafood

On TV sitcoms, when somebody gets a new job it's always one their friends don't know about at a fast-food place. (Fast food, convenience food, quick serve, whatever). And there is one thing that always happens to this person. Two things. First, they are always made to wear an embarrassing cap. This cap is never the kind you actually encounter in a fast-food establishment--it always has a large spring attached to it from which bounces and bobs a giant chicken. And the person's friends always show up at the restaurant and get in line when the character is working the register. No, three things. For some reason unfathomable to me, television screenwriters believe that persons who work for fast food eateries are given company cars. The company car the character is given always has a (giant) chicken attached to the roof of it, much as the chicken is attached to his cap, though not on a spring. (Spring chicken? That is not where I was going with this observation). Anyway. Foghorn Seafood ("Where the food is never forlorn") is just the kind of place a sitcom character might get a job at, but in a good way. I'd had a hankering for seafood, so I stopped in at Foghorn this afternoon for lunch. If you're not from North Carolina, you don't know that there are two kinds of seafood in the piedmont state: Eastern (beach) style seafood and Western (mountain) style seafood. Now some purists may prefer Western seafood, but I myself, and perhaps it's a guilty pleasure, prefer the seafood that is served near the Atlantic ocean. While Western tartar sauce has its own flair, I suspect that most of you will agree with me (and you had better) that oceanside seafood is cooler. Now that we've gotten that little debate out of the way, let's talk Foghorn. Now remember, Foghorn is fast food, so there are no servers. You must take your place in line with the rest and read your selection not from a menu but from a menu board (huge distinction). There are two parts to this menu board: the main section, for adults, is subheaded "Old Salts." The smaller section is dubbed "Little Sea Monsters," which contains offerings for children. From "Old Salts," I ordered the beer-battered octopus-suckers with a side of anchovy fries, washed down with bottled saltwater. Now, some argue that saltwater in a bottle is no different from saltwater direct from the ocean, but I beg to differ. Bottled saltwater is better, and I can prove it. The atmosphere in Foghorn is what you'd expect in a quick-serve emporium--primary colors, plastic, music you would never willingly listen to. The octopus-suckers were scrumptious, and the anchovy fries some of the best I've encountered. I really love how the anchovy fries make you thirsty, and the saltwater you drink to ease your thirst makes you ever more parched than before! It's a lot like life. And it's a lot like lunch at Foghorn Seafood, which I'm giving a solid three tentacles!