Be careful, Seattle; Midwesterners have feelings, too

Guess what? Bethany Jean Clement, food writer for the Seattle Times, hates the food at an iconic Midwestern fast-food burger joint.

The one called Steak 'n Shake.

Or, at least, the just-opened version in downtown Seattle, which, of the chain's more than 500 locations nationwide, is the first in the Pacific Northwest.

Maybe it's just a reflection of the food snobbery for which Seattle is known in much of these United States of America.

Bethany Jean looks like a sweet young lady in the photo that accompanies her online review of the new Seattle Steak 'n Shake. But looks can be deceiving, as we all know.

Wasting no words, Bethany Jean thrusts her critical sword straight into the double patties of ground steak smothered in cheese. "Lackluster-at-very-best" is how she describes the burgers.

But she isn't all negative. Nosiree. She observes that the new Steak 'n Shake's floors "are very clean, a product of what appears to be near-constant mopping."

See, I told you Bethany Jean was sweet.

She goes on, in her review, to pretty much rip everything on the Seattle menu, which apparently has been pared down from the Midwestern version -- but with the addition of beer and wine.

Go figure. Really? Who would want beer or wine with a double steakburger and skinny fries when you could have a strawberry shake with whipped cream and cherry on top?

Well, Bethany Jean doesn't care for the shakes, either. "In a blind taste-test, the chocolate shake would be impossible to identify as chocolate," she wrote.

Let me tell you about another blind taste-test, Bethany Jean. Participants were asked to taste three cups of coffee brewed in my very own kitchen. The winner, hands down, was Folgers. Classic roast. Instant.

A close second was Maxwell House instant.

A distant third was … you guessed it: Starbucks.

But with the blinders off, the results varied. Served in a cup with its familiar logo, Starbucks coffee won easily in every contest.

But so did Folgers and Maxwell House when served in Starbucks cups.

Familiarity and branding clearly influence our taste buds, it seems.

Despite Bethany Jean's sour review, hundreds of Midwesterners displaced in Seattle lined up on the opening day of Steak 'n Shake. The queue wound outside and down the sidewalk.

Exit polls and online comments indicate most customers were more than satisfied.

Let's face it, Bethany Jean. Thousands of Midwesterners who call the Seattle area home these days will find Steak 'n Shake to be a much-welcome addition to the food scene whose upper crust depends on ridiculously overpriced small-plate menus, many of which curiously resemble failed chemistry experiments.

Thank goodness, most of these places also have clean floors.

There may be an explanation for the snobbish views of folks like Bethany Jean and many of her fellow Seattleans: Their body chemistry may be lacking in something so familiar to Midwesterners but so foreign in the Pacific Northwest.

I am, of course, referring to barbecue.

Of all the great styles of barbecue from Memphis to Mobile (not to exclude the best-ever Kansas City barbecue), Southeast Missouri has its own regional style that not only tastes good, but also makes us nice people. Courteous. Unwilling to say anything unless we can say something nice.

What Bethany Jean needs is a jumbo pulled pork sandwich on Texas toast topped with slaw and pimiento cheese.

Regrettably, Bethany Jean won't be able to get an adequate dose of authentic barbecue in Seattle. It doesn't exist there.

So, being the hospitable, barbecue-infused folks that we are, I extend a sincere and heartfelt invitation to Bethany Jean to drop by sometime and let us take her on a barbecue tour of epic proportions from Cape Girardeau to Southern Illinois to tiny Holcomb, Missouri, near the Arkansas border.

Maybe we'll pull into a Steak 'n Shake somewhere along the way. And we'll certainly stop for dessert at the Original Fried Pies Shop in Sikeston, Missouri, next to Lambert's Cafe, home of throwed rolls.

Just for kicks.

Joe Sullivan is the retired editor of the Southeast Missourian.