Originally published in the Lebanon Reporter on May 25, 2006
(Note: Please humor me and click on this photo. I want to show off my remedial Photoshop skills) It was a normal weekday evening. The kids were in bed and I was working hard on my next column when a knock interrupted me mid-sentence. The man at the door was all business. “There’s been an incident and we need your help.”
When I arrived on the scene, ominous dread hung in the air like a heavy fog. The intruder had broken into the restaurant but not apparently, for the usual pursuits. The cash register was untouched and nothing was amiss except the odd phrase handwritten on the wall in red letters, “Neon Jim runs W Texas Deli Notes.” Upon closer examination, I was relieved to find an empty bottle of Red Gold ketchup, evidently our perpetrator’s preferred medium.
What do you make of it?,” asked my companion. Out of my mouth came, “someone named Neon Jim must be the editor of a newsletter for a conglomerate of delis in West Texas,” but I had a nagging feeling that there was a deeper meaning.
The next few days were like a blur. We boarded a plane for Amarillo in search of Neon Jim. No luck, so we headed back home. Along the way there were sightings of a mysterious Albino chef and clues about a powerful secret order of restaurant moguls. As we made our way deeper into this maze, I became convinced that the odd phrase was a secret code, an anagram perhaps. I knew I had to crack it.
What could it mean? The letters danced in my head finally coming together to form a new phrase, one not so nonsensical. “Jamestown is tenderloin nexus.” Could it be that simple? Could the real answer be just a few miles away in the corner of my own home county? I set out for Jamestown to see what I could find. Could this small town truly be the very center of the tenderloin universe, the Holy Grail of Hoosier cuisine?
With that revelation fresh in my head I awakened in my own bed. It was all been a dream. This elaborate scenario playing out in my mind was nothing more than my brain sorting out the events of the previous day including seeing The DiVinci Code and eating a breaded tenderloin much too late at night. But how does Jamestown fit in? I knew I would have to investigate.
When I pulled into the tiny town I found myself in desperate need of some lip balm. A sign pointed to the Jamestown IGA and as soon as I walked in, I sensed that this was more than a grocery store. I followed my nose to the back of the store and there it was, a deli counter serving all sorts of Hoosier favorites - fried chicken, potato wedges, and, of course, tenderloin sandwiches. This is what had brought me here. The kind lady took my order and in less than 30 seconds had me on my way with a Styrofoam container.
At only $3.25 I honestly did not expect much but I was way off - fresh pork, hand-battered, light and crispy coating with a soft white bun holding it all into place. One bite and I knew that I may indeed be in the very epicenter of tenderloin goodness. As great as this sandwich was, I knew there must be more, so I continued exploring. I made my way to the town square and found two additional establishments boasting of great breaded tenderloins - Dick & Judy’s Restaurant and Pizza King. I made plans to return on an empty stomach.
My two return trips revealed that the tenderloins at both Dick & Judy’s ($3.95) and Pizza King ($3.49) were just as good as the one I eaten at the IGA. There were subtle differences in the sizes of the bun and how thick or thin the tenderloin had been pounded, but all three were terrific sandwiches and all feature a light and crispy batter. I can’t fully explain my dream of a few nights ago, but it brought me to Jamestown so I’m not going to over-analyze it. I’ll just enjoy living just a few miles from the tenderloin nexus and I’ll keep my eye out for the Albino Chef, just in case.
If You Go
Jamestown IGA Deli
33 Brush Street
765-676-5541
Dick and Judy’s Restaurant
11 West Main Street
765-676-5707
Pizza King
6 East Main
765-676-6288