I Hate Kia of Augusta (An Informative Complaint)

     Let me tell you something. Read this carefully. I'm going to write calmly for a very specific reason. These guys actually still think that loud, obnoxious shouting ads help them sell cars. Here's what they did: they searched the entire globe, conducted genetic screening, accessed ancient vaults of long-dead civilizations, dug up alien databases, pored over ancient prophecies and consulted the stars.

All to find the Chosen One.

     The Chosen One: the man with the single most annoying voice ever to move air via stereo speaker. A voice so insanely annoying, so absurdly nerve-grating, so ridiculously obnoxious, that the seams of the fabric that separates Earth and Hell itself bulge under the strain when it roars through your speakers. I can only define the misery it can inspire as torture akin to the Human Centipede, but where the guy at the front is force-fed Metamucil and laxative brownies topped with scotch bonnet peppers and broccoli. This man sounds as though he were a mad scientist's defining experiment, in which he grew a monster in a horrible vat from the DNA of the Super Smash Bros. announcer, Pinkie Pie and Billy Mays.  

     And Kia of Augusta found this "Chosen One." Oh yes. And by God, they put him in their commercials. And they set his epic, brain-numbing, suicide-inspiring crow against a backdrop of needlessly coked out hype music that has been reused in every annoying car advertisement since 1988. The music alone is enough to instantly send the Dalai Lama into a panic attack. But add to this music the Voice of Legend, and it becomes infinitely more uncomfortable and sinister. It is Paula Deen's hungry smile watching you as you undress. It is the stuff of Nazis and ISIS. It is the kind of cruelty only Donald Trump's barber could conjure. 

     Together, Kia of Augusta, along with their agent of chaos, The Chosen One, time and time again bludgeon their way into our otherwise enjoyable commutes like an evil Koolaid Man; they wriggle their way into your happy, musical quiet place like a wretched worm that explodes into an audible EDM acid trip. They shove their ridiculous propaganda straight down your little ear holes and into your cowering soul, leaving you feeling violated and shivering in the lonesome, cold dark well that was once your heart.  And you ask yourself, "WHY?!? I don't even need to buy a car..." I can just see the staff of Kia of Augusta now, lifting praises up to whatever sadistic devils they worship, cackling in mad delight as blood drips from their fangs.

     Well, let me tell you this, my friend: after four years of living in this area, I solemnly declare that I will rip off my own arm and choke myself to death with my own cold death grip before I will ever, EVER, buy a Kia from Kia of Augusta. Further, I swear by my firstborn's favorite stuffed animal, as Freedom's Eagle as my witness, by Grabthar's Hammer, I will never ever buy a Kia, period, and I'll tell you why. Because they apparently think I am dumb enough to get psyched about a car because some google-eyed idiot is hammer-fisting our undeserving earballs with a voice that would make the Dragonborn weep. FUS RO FML!!!

Home Cooking: Easier Than Advertised

Some home-cooked gnocchi from scratch in a serious sauce of garlic, butter, capers and a white wine reduction, plus a homemade Caprese Salad, which I first discovered on the avenues of Venice.

Hokkaido Review

Japanese food is some of the best in the world. Fact. Hokkaido is a great representation of the Americanized take on this amazing culinary culture, and I don't mean "Americanized" in a bad way, necessarily. This is another one of those restaurants that I'm giving five stars because, while there are certainly better sushi restaurants in the country, and even in Georgia, this is hands down the best I have found so far in the Augusta area, and I've tried them all. For the price you pay, it's very hard to beat.

The decor is a contrast of neutral earth tones accented by colorful lighting. The space is limited in a good way (it feels comfortable), and the setting is overall casual and fairly stylish. The tables are consistently clean and the menus are really cool to look at. The staff is incredibly friendly and very accommodating. I have been here many times with my wife, and I kid you not, they have not screwed up a single part of a single order we've ever made. They have gone out of their way for us on several occasions and seem to have their priorities well in order. Excellent folks.

The appetizers are great; we regularly enjoy Shumai  and one of the delectable tempura appetizers. Great bang for the buck!

As per standard in Augusta, the menu is a split menu. It features assorted Japanese and Thai, plus Hibachi offerings. For some reason, Augustans have a strange fascination with Hibachi-style entrees, and depressingly, you cannot find a Japanese restaurant in the area that can survive without offering these dishes on the menu. I think it has to do with the well-documented local obsession with the vastly overrated artery-hardener known simply as "White Sauce," that is, the bastardized, mayonnaise/ketchup-based sauce which locals may be observed guzzling by the half gallon at any given Japanese restaurant. All of that said, I have experienced (albeit secondhand via a taste test from my wife's plate) the glory of Hokkaido's kitchen know-how. Perfectly caramelized meats, appropriate coating of sauce. Incredibly fragrant and savory fried rice. My wife once ordered the seafood combination of the hibachi entree, which offers scallops and calamari. The calamari was uncommonly tender (most places WAY overcook it) and beautifully colored, and the same could and should be said about the perfectly juicy scallops.

The sushi menu offers all the standard Maki you would expect to find in an American sushi restaurant, plus the usual over-the-top indulgence rolls and even some pretty unique ones. The quality of the fish is very fresh; never had a gross piece of fish from that bar. The presentation is very modern, crisp and clean. Despite their young appearance, their chefs really seem to know what they're doing, even going so far as to add amazing plate art. I am very impressed with the artistry and expertise with which this sushi is executed. I would again stress that I have never seen these guys fall short of the mark.

Bottom line, it's worth every penny. I would only urge you to push the boundaries of your comfort and try something new each time. You won't regret it!

Rhinehart's Review

   Here's something that most non-native Augusta residents will immediately recognize as fact: nostalgia and provincial inexperience prop up a good handful of old, really outdated restaurants in Augusta that would have otherwise gone the way of the Do-Do in other, more modernized cities because a large majority of their clientele has grown up in (and possibly never left) the Augusta area. Obviously, I realize that not ALL natives fall into this category, but enough do that I feel justified in saying so. The bottom line is that non-natives (hereafter referred to as "aliens) are forced to settle for food from relatively low-standard establishments due to local hype derived from decades of thoughtless patronage. IMO, this is one of such places.

    Now, that said, I firmly believe that every establishment gets a mulligan. Everyone deserves a second chance in the event of the inevitable, odd bad day. Thusly, I have been to the Belair location twice on the advice that it was less "divey." How that is possible, I'm not entirely sure, unless I compare it to the Mos Eisley Cantina. I cannot speak for the Washington Rd. location, as I am not willing to further subject myself to this restaurant.

    Where to start? Perhaps it's the stone-age era, completely chaotic and disorganized parking lot. Perhaps it is the lazy, dirty, gulag-style ambience of the interior...if it can be called  an "interior," since I feel like I'm attempting to dine in an alley in downtown Detroit, or a shelled out building in Fallujah. Seriously, I can't decide if the decor more closely resembles a former-Soviet prison or a re-purposed lavatory at a dilapidated college baseball stadium. There is "writing," more akin to trashy graffiti on LITERALLY every surface. There is no difference between their actual restroom and the dining space, save for a dirty toilets stuck inside one of them, and I'm not telling you which one it is. Bare cinder block walls and awkward picnic table seating helps complete that symphony of "couldn't care any less if you paid me to...and you are paying me to." Greasy, sticky, wooden tables. Gum. Stuck. To. Everything.

    Granted, all of this would be more acceptable if I could believe that they were angling for that college party kind of vibe, catering to beer guzzling frat brahs and sorority bimbos on the weekend, which they partially do. But here's the thing; they don't even have beer on tap. But you can buy classy buckets of domestic swill, most likely. Yet despite appearances, the place is packed constantly, by brahs and grandma's alike (although the degradation of the palate with drunkenness and age is verifiable, so I concede they at least have an excuse). Even the radio ad for this place is gross; the narrator sounds half-wasted and clearly has a sinus condition. I thought that this had shaken my faith in the local populace, but then again, after my first glance at the traffic behavior in the Augusta area I realized my expectations were never really very high. But I digress.

    Onward, to the food. The famous shrimp. Yeah, it's fried shrimp, alright...in very dated cornmeal batter that went out of style in 1987 and which drips with grease from every nook and cranny. And if that's your thing, chive on down that oily road to an early heart attack; it's none of my business. Now, onto the fish. I once ordered their "blackened" fish, which was somehow inexplicably even more greasy than my wife's fried entree! What the what?!? It was mushy, overcooked, and possessed none of the qualities of a properly-blackened fish filet. And that brings us to the oysters. I refuse to eat them, and I'll tell you why. It's because I have laid mine horrified little eyes upon the ghastly interior of the restaurant, felt my hands stick to the tack of the uncleaned tables... and I would rather tap dance through a minefield with snow shoes on. I figure my odds of survival favor the mines. I'm sorry, but I just can't justify spending my hard-earned money at a joint whose motto is "Rhinehart's: Beyond Casual" while serving foods that can no-shit kill you D-E-D dead. I don't want foods like that to be handled in any manner close to even regular casual.

    In that same way that some folks have a face only a mother could love, only locals or those never exposed to good, modernized seafood (or perhaps to restaurants that can't be cleaned on the inside with a pressure washer and a sand blaster without an insurance settlement) could love Rhinehart's

Introduction

Hello, my friends!
    
     Welcome to my first and probably only blog. I love to cook, I love to write, and I love music. Throughout this series, I intend to explore thoughts on all of these things. I can't possibly imagine what could be more exciting! And now that I've begun with what could possibly be considered the lamest introduction to any blog ever, let's break this down a little more.

     Here are the things you can expect to find in this blog. I'll be posting reviews of local restaurants, which will usually also be available on Yelp.com, unless I feel it's something that I'd rather just share with you lot. You see, as an outsider, I have observed many things about this quaint little vale, foremost of which is its capacity for stagnation and borderline xenophobia, but I mostly blame that on its proximity to the Peoples' Republic of South Carolina, the world's runner up for the "Why It's Great to Live Here" Propaganda Award, second only to North Korea. Just kidding...mostly. I feel that Augusta just needs a little...mmm...boost in motivation to raise the standard of cuisine in the area to mimic that of other cities. But don't get me wrong; Augusta, like any other city, boasts an amazing select few of culinary gems that we can call our own, and we'll celebrate them together as we discover them.

     I also intend to discuss my own thoughts and some of my own recipes for the cuisine of various cultures from around this big, round, wonderful world. We'll talk about all manner of food, drink, local custom, and perhaps share a few laughs about dogma, stereotypes and the odd bit of social awkwardness, all with a blatant disregard for political correctness.

     I think food is better when it can be the subject of discussion and debate as well as a nutritional provision; it is the stuff that brings people together, bridges cultures, and leaves us all either healthier and energized, or weakened and lethargic, depending on how it is crafted, cooked, consumed or not consumed. It is, at the very least, a necessity, but I think of it as a phenomenon for which I am grateful in every respect. We are fortunate to enjoy such a bounty of choice, so let's lift our glasses, forks, whatever, to the wonderful world of food!

    We live here. It's on us to improve upon and leave our mark upon the culture and to truly make a melting pot of our surroundings. To me, that is the real meaning of community. Welcome aboard!

    -Matt