The Crispy Gourmand: Rickey's World Famous Restaurant
8/15/2008 2:29 PM | 4 Comments | Page 1 of 3
Scott Jones
Status: Coffee makes me feel 4-percent sexier.
The most lethal sauce in the Rickey's features this legal disclaimer: "WARNING:
Consuming this hot sauce will involuntarily cause your hair to feather."
(Contributor: Elise Vogel)
Rickey's World Famous Restaurant
Location: Hollywood, FL
Hours: 11 a.m. till 1 a.m.
Dress: Casual.
All major credit cards accepted.
Billy Mitchell, aka the U.S. flag-tie-wearing, hirsute co-star of "The King of Kong" (read our review of the DVD
here), owns a chain of restaurants called Rickey's World Famous. Our in-house gourmands recently stopped by the flagship in Hollywood, Florida, to sample the gaming king's culinary delights. Does Billy's cuisine achieve the high score? Read on...
You can't possibly miss the red and yellow monolith situated on a busy stretch of Hollywood Boulevard. If not for the RICKEY'S WORLD FAMOUS RESTAURANT sign on the front, you might think you were stopping at an adult bookstore. Indeed, Rickey's World Famous Restaurant features the four architectural hallmarks of the adult bookstore/peep booth emporium: no windows; flat rooftop; side entrance for discrete exits/entrances; and, finally, ample parking in the rear.
We arrived at 11:15 a.m., hoping to beat the lunchtime rush, and found several tables and booths already occupied with hungry Floridians, sleeves rolled, elbows planted, digging into Billy's/Rickey's fare. Apparently they like to dine early down in Florida.
We seated ourselves at the far corner of the restaurant's bar, giving ourselves an elevated vantage point from which to survey the interior: wood paneling, mirrors and plenty of sputtering neon.
As recent viewers of "The King of Kong: A Fistful of Quarters" (available on DVD), we quickly spotted two of the film's supporting stars: Billy's elderly parents. They were seated at a nearby table, obviously serving in some sort of managerial capacity at the Rickey's World Famous, giving orders to the waitstaff.
The restaurant's soft red-and-blue lighting scheme makes the old,
fat Floridians look 12-percent less old and fat.
While waiting for our server to attend to us, we counted the televisions. There were 13 in total, a decidedly unlucky number, with each television broadcasting some variation of sports or infomercials (or in the case of the Bowflex, a sports-infomercial). Also, several of the televisions were carrying a broadcast of a trivia game called "Appeteasers," designed to distract hungry diners.
Our waiter was an affable man with a chin-strap beard named Troy. (Note: The chin-strap beard is a very popular accoutrement among the Rickey's waitstaff.) Troy poured us two Cokes -- regular for me; Diet for my colleague -- both of which were served in clean plastic cups and featuring a above-average amount of carbonation.
After studying the tri-fold menu for several minutes, we decided against ordering two appetizer items that appeared to be thinly veiled references to the building's former use ($8.95 Crab Pearls; $6.95 Corn Nuggets), and instead settled on what appeared to be a house specialty: the Seafood Sampler ($15.95).
Troy greatly approved of our choice, then whisked our order off to the kitchen.
While waiting for our first course to arrive, thanks in no small part to Rickey's extremely liberal beverage policy (gratis refills), my colleague and I made separate visits to the restaurant's restrooms. Each restroom featured a semi-rusted vending machine: The men's room machine offered condoms, Tylenol and glowsticks ($1 each); the women's machine -- as my colleague reported -- offered tampons, Tylenol and glowsticks (also $1 each).
