On the Road: Tenderloins and (Gluten-Free) Buns in Cedar Rapids
To see all of my posts from my May 27, 2015 visit to the Cedar Rapids Kernels (this is Part Three) click HERE. To see all of the posts from my May 2015 trip through the Midwest, click HERE. To see ALL of my “On the Road” posts (going back to 2010), click HERE.
This is Tim Mullin.
May 27, 2015, was to be a very special day for Tim. For on May 27, 2015, he visited the Cedar Rapids Kernels and served as my Designated Eater (you know, the individual who consumes the ballpark cuisine that my gluten-free diet prohibits).
Tim, a Indianapolis native who now lives in Chicago, is very familiar with the Minor League scene. In addition to owning his own production company, Park Walk Productions, he the author of the (recommended) Baseball Road Trips: Midwest and the Great Lakes.
“I’m glad that I can share in the experience, because I’m typically alone at the ballpark,” said Tim, referring to a professional state of being that I’m familiar with. “I’m definitely qualified [to be the designated eater]. but maybe that’s not something to be proud of.”
Tim wasted no time in getting down to business. When I met him on the concourse at the start of the game, he had already procured this pork tenderloin sandwich.
The Pork Tenderloin is, quite literally, bigger than Tim’s head. It is bigger than just about any human’s head, unless that human happened to have a cranium of Bochyian proportions.
Tim had procured this sandwich from a concourse kiosk that only sells pork tenderloin sandwiches. (Hey, it’s the Midwest). His had lemon pepper seasoning and a citrus BBQ sauce, along with “tons of pickles for resistance.”
When put up against Tim, the pork tenderloin offered little resistance.
“You’ve got to hit it at an angle,” he said. “It’s good to get a little bit of bread to accentuate the meat.”
Designated Eater checks in, Cedar Rapids Kernels https://t.co/PppLNOTkG4
— Benjamin Hill (@bensbiz) May 27, 2015
Tim reported that Iowan pork tenderloin sandwiches are actually smaller than those found in his home state of Indiana. Also, he was gratified to learn that the Kernels’ version of this sandwich was not deep-fried. “I think that’s what skyrocketed Indiana into obesity,” said Tim. “The fried pork tenderloin sandwich.” As for the Kernels’ iteration of the Pork Tenderloin, Tim declared it to be “outstanding.”
“I’ve never seen a grilled one at the ballpark before,” he said. “They do it fresh here, take the whole patty and just throw it on the grill. Like, ‘Whoa, isn’t this supposed to be frozen?’ It’s great.”
However, as great as the Kernels’ pork tenderloin was, Tim said it wasn’t the best he’d ever had. He bestowed that honor upon the Bourbon Street Distillery in Indianapolis, instead.
“But I’m getting toward 50, so I have to phase [Pork Tenderloin Sandwiches] out of my life,” he said.
“Whoa, you don’t look 50,” I replied.
“I’m cherubic. I feel like I’m cheating on my wife right now. She watches out for my diet, and is constantly pulling me out of trouble.”
As for me, Ben’s Biz, I’m a lone wolf. I don’t have anyone to pull me out of trouble. I must look out for myself. But I didn’t even need to look out for myself while in Cedar Rapids, as the Kernels were already looking out for me via a substantial slate of gluten-free items on the concession menu.
Excuse the quality of this photograph. It’s the thought that counts.
I opted for a gluten-free jumbo dog, which was delicious. The bun had a great consistency, melded well with the dog and (the ultimate test for a GF bun), did’t fall apart. (I need to look into what brand of bun this was. I somehow seemed to have neglected this crucial bit of information.) Who needs a designated eater?
— Benjamin Hill (@bensbiz) May 28, 2015
But, don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten about Tim. Our next stop was this riotous build-your-own burger and hot dog stand.
“In Chicago it’s a mortal sin to put anything but mustard on a hot dog, but I’m tempted to try mayonnaise on this,” said Tim. “The dog’s fantastic, but this might be the saltiest thing I’ve ever eaten. It tastes like a Polish sausage, but girthier, if that’s a word. I’m gonna speed dial my cardiologist.”
And that’s where we say goodbye to Tim, as he eats his foot-long frankfurter BLT.
“If Ben Hill said he needed somebody to eat for him, and at the end of the day you get thrown off a cliff, I’d do it,” said Tim. “It’s fun. It really is.”
Truer words have never been spoken.