Big Mama's Sandwich Shop

2416 Lake Street 

402-933-6622

Open Mon – Fri 10:30am – 2:30pm, Sat 11am – 2:30pm, closed Sun

bigmamassandwichshop.com 

Big Mama has some experience with sandwiches, and it shows. (She's fat.) 

So, um, can everyone please stop thinking Rotella's is good bread? Just because their stinking factory is located here doesn't mean the stuff is any different from the other pliable, springy, memory foam mattress-like, preservative-laden breads on the shelf at Hy-Vee. If a local restaurant carries it, it is not a nod to fresh, local, or quality. It's fine if you don't care at all about bread, but it is most certainly nothing to brag about. 

Big Mama's Cold Fried Chicken Sandwich
on Rotella's wheat hoagie roll

Big Mama's Sandwich Shop serves Rotella's bread. But I can get over it. 

At the counter on a fine spring afternoon, when prompted to choose white or wheat for my cold fried chicken sandwich, I seized up. My mind went a mile a minute trying to resist the urge to go for my knee-jerk choice of wheat (which is usually just brown white bread anyway), because something like cold fried chicken sounds like it's on the list of Reasons Why White Bread Exists — along with grilled American cheeses, BLTs, and baloney sandwiches they serve in prison. Why were they even asking me? So I asked her which one I should get. To which she responded:

"I don't know. Do you like white or wheat bread?"

Feeling like a doofus, I said "wheat" and immediately regretted it. But after that whole episode, I don't think it really mattered, because it was indeed brown-colored white bread encasing this particular sandwich. You know, Rotella's. Whatever. 

Down the hatch.

Other than that, the fried chicken strips had a hefty, flavorful breading and were pleasantly juicy. I thought Big Mama's secret sauce — something akin to a marriage of honey mustard and Italian dressing — had a nice, just-out-of-the-food-processor zing and an interesting, earthy spice I couldn't quite put my finger on 'cause my palate was busted from a hangover.

One very solid pastrami sandwich

My dining buddy's pastrami pepper jack melt thing came on pumpernickel that was ridged with the markings of a panini press. He said it was a solid sandwich but generally unremarkable. I had a bite and immediately forgot what it was like. The kosher dill pickle spear we paid extra for was on the level of a Vlasic®, reminding me why I always feel like such a putz when I pay extra for a pickle. 

Oxtail soup with swimming meat fibers and dissolving vegetables

The oxtail soup had okra, which was a nice touch, but it was smushy okra, so it didn't matter. Actually, all of the veggies were smushy, and the broth under seasoned. The pulled oxtail was pulled apart to the max, reduced to individual strands of meat fibers, rendering it undetectable. It was definitely homemade, it was just in need of some attention to detail.

I don't doubt Big Mama is a great cook. Because I have a heartbeat, I love the idea of opening a good sandwich shop to lure people of all races from all corners of Douglas County to a part of town with a dangerous reputation, as any forward-facing, liberal-slanting millennial would. Her story is very attractive to television producers: in addition to appearances on several national programs, Big Mama was even picked up for her own reality show on the Food Network (which seems to have immediately been canceled).

She's certainly the face behind the food. Or on the food. Y'know.

The problem is that here, it's too over-branded to feel authentic. Big Mama's face stares up at you in places you wouldn't expect. I just don't see the place making its way into anyone's regular rotation on the merit of the food alone. In quality and menu items, it could be an alternative to Worker's Takeout, but the sandwiches are half the size and twice as expensive.

$7.50 for a sandwich pre-tax and chips? Hmm.

I should stop posturing as if Omaha is just brimming with fantastic sandwich shops that could take this place down. It's not. And the over-the-top marketing might just seem like a lot because so many restaurants in this town either don't even bother or fail miserably at it. I think I was just offended by the chip selection. I just don't want to believe that Big Mama expects us to subsist on Lay's as the sole side dish offering, unless it's on purpose to take you back to the hard times of the early '80s, long before kettle chips were a thing. I mean, having to choose between original, BBQ, or sour cream and onion is some old-school shit.

Still, everyone should pay Big Mama's a visit, if not just to see what it's like. Counter space is limited; I'd recommend takeout. If you do eat in, be sure to bring your own chips.

Part of the Carver Bank development, an art exhibit and performance space.

A note: The Sandwich Shop's mother restaurant, Big Mama's Kitchen, was the subject of one of my very first blog entries three years ago, before I knew how to write. It's a little bit of an embarrassing time capsule, much like logging into MySpace and looking at your profile. 

What I Ate for Thanksgiving

I raved about the fried chicken at Jack and Mary's so much I just had to have it again. The house was packed, and we eyed the others suspiciously, wondering what kind of people go out to eat on Thanksgiving. We alone represented the entire 18-55 age bracket, as the servers were too young to legally serve my wine, and the patrons were clearly old as f***. One of the fellow diners told us he dropped his Demerol tablet somewhere near the salad bar--hopefully not in the dressing--and successfully had every member of the staff on the search. (He eventually realized it was in fact still in his pocket.) All of this and more was our entertainment for the evening. Let the photos tell the rest.

The salad bar:
Bagged iceberg mix, black olives, genetically modified cherry tomatoes,
and sweet French dressing were the stars.
Don't mind the veiny hand. We didn't.

Sutter Home Chardonnay:
The rich, creamy pear and apple flavors, and the smooth, round texture made it an ideal pairing for my fried chicken. Pictured with the elegant salad I made for myself.

Wouldn't be Thanksgiving without the puffy white oven rolls, now would it?

Finally, the Feast:
Canned, microwaved green beans, stuffing and mashed with gravy,
and four pieces of fried chicken. LOVE IT!

At the risk of being too full to carry on with our drinking, we had to get the pie (included in the $12.95 price) wrapped to go. Rest assured it provided a swell midnight snack the following day. Jack and Mary's feast wasn't nearly as good as Mom's cooking, but to see the folks genuinely excited to eat and be together on this day made it great for me. For many, Thanksgiving 2011 has already been flushed away and forgotten, but for me, this will be one to remember.

Jack and Mary's Restaurant

655 North 114th Street
Omaha, NE 68154
(402) 496-2090
Open Monday thru Friday lunch and dinner, Saturday dinner, Sunday brunch 10am-2pm and dinner til 8:30pm
www.jackandmarysrestaurant.com 

Fried Chicken and Waffles

Fried chicken is something I'm only really "getting into" now, in my late twenties. Kind of like how people my age are getting into having kids. But I guess it's a little different. Anyway, I've figured out that there are a few things that make great fried chicken: It must be served hot, right out of the fryer; no heat lamps allowed. It shouldn't be overly greasy, sliding around on your plate like a possessed Ouija board planchette. The meat should be of good quality, which means more edible than non-edible parts. The batter should be seasoned with spices, but not too salty, and kept to a thin coating, so as to not cover up the flavor of the actual chicken. The first bite should be of meat, not just of fried matter. At Jack and Mary's, they know the fried chicken formula well. The waitstaff of old veterans and fresh faced newbies wore t-shirts that read "Giving Omaha the Bird For Over 30 Years," a claim they can definitely back up.

We went for brunch, where my leg and thigh adorned a Belgian-style waffle. Incorporating some vanilla into the waffle recipe could have made it less bland, and it could have been crispier on the outside, but the whipped butter and giant ramekin of syrup made it all work out. Jack's Plate was the typical two eggs/bacon/hash browns/toast, except it was atypically large, and overall very well executed. Neighboring tables were guzzling gizzards and giblets, iceberg and ranch from the salad bar, and mashed potatoes with extra gravy, in such a way I swore the retirees had been saving their appetites all week. In a West Omaha strip mall, the interior pulls off the country kitchen feel. I get the sense not every dish on the menu maintains the homemade-from-scratch model, so choose your items carefully. Flyers advertised a special Thanksgiving dinner for $12.95, where you'll probably find me, imbibing at the bar and polishing my plate.

Brunch entrees served with fresh fruit, and cinnamon rolls, which were heavy as heck.

Dark Rye Bread

Jack's Plate:
At least two industrial spatula-fulls of hash browns, two extra large eggs, and a bouquet of bacon