Sampler
Gnaw Bone BBQ &
Original Gnaw Bone Tenderloin
T
he experience of dining out is like a magic trick: the stage is set and the trick prepared long before the audience arrives, and during the performance what the spectators observe is carefully controlled for the desired effect. The whole arrangement of modern restaurant dining is designed to put a little stage craft between the brutal and utilitarian necessities of preparing your meal, and the ultimate experience of eating it. So you herd folks into a pleasant, semi-dark nicely appointed room, to a table that is nicely set with real china and glassware. You get a couple of drinks in them. and then you arrange to have their meal brought by a friendly, attractive person. Half the battle is won before the meal ever arrives. If the food is warm and in the least bit digestible, the customer is going to be satisfied. They have been charmed and seduced. Then, right at the end, after the trick has been performed and applauded, comes the harsh reality of the bill. On the other end of the dining spectrum is the no-frills, in-sight-it-must-be-right industrial quality dining down at the Gnaw Bone BBQ and Original Gnaw Bone Tenderloin, the latest entry in a welcome new sprinkling of places to eat out near the eastern edge of Brown County. There are no tricks, no frills, at Gnaw Bone BBQ, but there is magic. Nothing comes between the customer and the kitchen except a low half-wall and a young lady at the cash register. There is no décor, unless Midwest industrial is a décor. There are some plastic banquet tables, a menu on the wall, and the stainless steel kitchen from which all the deep-fried enchantment is ensuing. Now, we could digress into a needless and pointless discussion on the relative merits of deep
48 Our Brown County • Nov./Dec. 2017
fried food. My regular readers already know that, while I am well aware of the dietary facts, I have nevertheless long since surrendered to the deep-seated need and desire for all the wonderful things that come from a deep fat fryer. And the Gnaw Bone BBQ is just the place to entertain such needs and desires. The sign outside the small red brick building on the eastern end of Gnaw Bone declares it the home of the “only original Gnaw Bone Tenderloin.” The “only original Gnaw Bone Tenderloin” is not only huge—as big as your hand, if not your whole head—but it is also thick cut, I’d say about a half-inch thick. Some breaded tenderloins are pounded out so thin you scarcely find the meat between the breading; but the Gnaw Bone tenderloin is a honkin’ big twelve-ounce hunk of prime pork encrusted in a spicy, crispy, crunchy breading that perfectly complements the porky goodness within. The marquee sandwich comes dressed in a bun about halfway too small to provide for the delightful eating of the edges in the run up to actually gobbling down the sandwich. Once you get in there, try some lettuce,