Cheap Eats - Lip service
Mouth of the South’s nifty concept falters in execution
I wasn’t weaned on popcorn shrimp, but I might as well have been. Growing up on the Gulf Coast, fried seafood was a way of life. But all of it is not equal. There’s the sort that is light, almost delicate, and nearly magical in its lack of greasiness. And then there’s the type that’s leaden, so oversalted and dense it’s practically got a half-life in your gut. Unfortunately, the food at Mouth of the South comes much closer to the latter. I had high hopes for the Cajun eatery, having heard of its “homey atmosphere” and unabashed embrace of all things deep-fried. But both visits were marred by disappointing food, and service that ranged from indifferent to inept and rude.
Thanks for the details:
Great effort has been made to give Mouth of the South a country-folksy, Cajun fish camp feel. Wooden tables are thick with a shade of brown paint usually reserved for barns. Appetizers are served on aluminum platters, and flatware by the dozen has been chucked into tin buckets alongside straws and red paper napkins. The restaurant is practically empty on both visits but service is utterly lackadaisical. Our first server responds to almost all menu questions with a shrug and “I dunno.” On the second visit, our server tells us that the “Bayourita” drink was “where the owner comes from,” and then announces that the sausage in the beans and rice we’d ordered is “gonna take a real long time, ‘cause it’s still frozen.” The price of $8.90 doesn’t seem like a lot for beans and rice with sausage. It is, though, when the beans have been microwaved to death and taste of nothing but salt, and a rod of unspecial kielbasa has been nuked, then grilled and plopped atop a cold mound of what tastes like Uncle Ben’s.
If I told you once, I told you twice:
Two tables seated halfway through our dinner are served their meals long before us. When we ask for our food, our sullen server reminds us, “I already told you your food’s gonna be late.” Fried crawfish tails ($13.95) achieve the amazing feat of being both wildly oversalted and completely bland. They’re chewy, heavy and have clearly spent a long time inside a freezer. Accompanying “gourmet” cole slaw is brown and soggy, and skillet cornbread is stale and lukewarm. Needlessly sweet hushpuppies are tender as lumps of coal.
Dialysis never sounded so good:
Of course, fried dill pickles ($3.25) are salty, but at Mouth of the South, they’re a nudge toward abject kidney failure. They’re crunchy, tangy and a little crispy around the edges, but by the sixth one, you feel as if you need your blood cleansed. Onion rings ($3.25) are limp, with just a bit of batter clinging to the onions, which disintegrate into a tangle of greasy batter.
A fried catfish fillet ($9.95) almost redeems the meal with its flaky, buttery catfish and toothy crunch of cornmeal coating. It goes down deliciously with Mouth of the South’s mean mint julep ($5.95). I considered ordering a second julep in an attempt to liven up a feeble meal, but paying quickly and leaving seemed a better idea. Dinner there already felt like a big, fat smack in the mouth.