Metro Pulse/Restaruant Rover/Puléo's Grille

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Puléo's Grille
7224 Regions Lane
673-9101

by Connie Seuer

Imagine this... You and your road-trip buddy have been driving all day. In fact, you've been driving for several days. The monotony of the interstate has worn on you both, as has the corporate radio and the ever-increasing reports about the terrible state of the world. But of all the road-weary parts of your person, your taste buds are suffering the most.

If you'd had the time to get off the road a bit, scoot around towns and parishes, you know you would have found some one-of-a-kind delectables. But your schedule has been tight. You've stuck to the trail. And for this, you've shaved time off your trip. But you've reached the point that you can no longer bear the thought of anything potato-fried, anything pattied, and most certainly not anything with the prefix, "Mc."

It's dinnertime, and you've just passed Knoxville, headed east on I-40. The next exit is called Strawberry Plains, and it's time to fuel up—both you and the car. As your buddy squints to read gas prices in the brassy glare of late-winter light, you scan the bleak horizons of exit food. But wait, there's something different on this exit's menu. It's an independent place, with neon illuminated, called Puléo's Grille. It looks clean and friendly from where you're sitting. And since the rule of the car is the passenger picks the eats, you've made up your mind.

You discover upon closer inspection that Puléo's describes itself as "Southern Roots. Italian Heritage." Your friend looks at you through the tops of his eyes, a look you've come to know during this trip as the "when we get through this, I'm going to kill you" glare. "Just give it a chance!" you shout, "You're so judgmental, jeez."

Inside, a rough-hewn crowd packs the bar, and the restaurant bustles. You're seated at a comfy booth in the non-smoking section and begin perusing the menu, wondering just what this blend of Southern and Italian foods will offer. Fried green tomatoes ($5.99) pops out from the starters menu, as does the stuffed seafood ravioli ($6.99). Not exactly what you'd expect to find side by side on a menu, but oddly enough, they both sound appetizing.

Just about now a board slides onto the table serving up a warm, mini-boule of crusty fresh bread. You and driver pal tear into it, adding swathes of butter to the slightly sweet introduction.

"Whatta ya gonna have?" you ask. Your friend's eyes are big as he stares at the menu. He's not answering. This is a new one on you. All your other meals have been pretty cut and dried, and he's known immediately what he'd order. So you redirect the question to yourself. There's a baby spinach salad ($7.49) that's making your digestive system think happy thoughts—tender young leaves tossed with Granny smith apples, and carrots with caramelized pecans and Gorgonzola in a balsamic vinaigrette.

At last, your companion lets out a longing sigh, "shrimp and grits...." He spotted it before you did, and the Puléo's version ($14.99) sounds even better than what you had last time you were in Charleston. Sautéed shrimp, peppers, and onions married to Italian sausage by a tasso gravy, all atop a heaping thwomp of cheese grits. With the Southern route already being explored, you decide to stake your claim on the Italian side of the menu.

Yes, there are pizzas and pastas, but you're hungry for more protein, less starch. At last, you settle on Steak Tuscany ($11.99), an 8oz sirloin that's spent some time with Italian herbs and garlic. It's also promising a delivery of roasted sweet red peppers and a shallot rosemary demiglace. Tears are welling in your ducts as you think about what could have been: another night of drive-through burgers and fries, of chicken tenders, of abysmal monochromatic food.

Both of your entrees come with side salads, and you're each gleeful to see some fresh, leafy greens headed your direction. Your bud gets the basic house salad with peppercorn Parmesan. He expounds on the merits of peppercorn Parmesan, proclaiming it "the ranch of our decade." You consider agreeing with him, until you bite into your cool, crisp Caesar salad. Its classic, punchy dressing—loud with anchovies and garlic—is a nicely done, pungent version.

The shrimp and grits arrive, along with your steak Tuscany and an ample come-with of penne alfredo. While you're cutting the perfect bite of sirloin, you watch, amazed, as your companion dips into his first bite. He's savoring the deep goodness of well-wrought low-country flavors.

"Oh yeah," he mutters, mouth still full and another bite already in queue. You take a forkful of beef from your plate and are pleased with the taste—plenty juicy with the sweet pepper and onion sauce and not over-herbed. You can't really taste the shallot rosemary demiglace, but you're not complaining. Next, you try the penne, the large tubular noodles laced with thick alfredo sauce and brightened by a thoughtful sprinkle of parsley. Tasty, it is, and very rich. But perhaps too rich for pairing with the hefty sirloin. A baked potato, another one of the side options, might have been your smarter choice.

"You're right," says your companion, "I was being judgmental. This is the best meal we've had while we've been traveling. Where are we again? Puléo's Grille?" Imagine that.