I met you and Mike and maybe Alex or Tony (CRS moment) at one of the recent SF Bay gatherings. You were busy and very friendly in spite of it. Mike and I chatted for a few moments about dive bars and a dive steak house somewhere near SLO that I can't remember the name of. It was great! Talking about audio at audio shows is over-rated.
Jockos. Insane steaks, mediocre to frightening everything else. But the steaks make up for it. They're a perfect example of an organization that knows
exactly what they do best, and that it is
better than probably anything else out there, and
they don't give one single crap about anything else. Take a date there if you want to terrify them.
True story: we took a friend from Holland up to Jockos. This is a 2.5 hour drive from where we live. Of course, this happens to be the night that somebody has crashed into a power pole with his jacked-up monster truck (not much more to do in Nipomo) and the restaurant is dark.
Any other restaurant? Shut down.
Jockos? People eating with flashlights. The oak-fired pit? Still running. People sitting in the bar with candles drinking the beers before they got warm. A line still out the door. No schiit.
I had to visit the restroom, which has no windows, and thus was pitch dark. I turned on my phone flashlight. An entire row of beer bottles was lined up along the top of the toilet paper dispenser. Someone else was at the urinal.
"Thanks for the light," he said.
"Better than pissing in the corner," I told him.
He laughed. "Who cares? It's Jockos."
Yeah, that kind of place.
They were about to finally call a shutdown due to the lack of hot water for doing dishes, when the power finally came back on and we went in. Our Dutch friend is looking skeptically at the greasy diner ambience, and his suspicion goes full-bore when the salsa and crackers (yes, saltines) arrives. Like I said, Jockos doesn't give a crap about anything but the steak.
He glares further at us over the iceberg lettuce salad (complete with a canned beet on top), and grumbles until the steak comes out: the large Spencer (AKA ribeye). 22 ounces of amazing. Jockos has never had a wrongly-cooked steak, even when you ask for it blood-rare. Total cost for that, salsa, salad, potatoes/rice, and ice cream for dessert? $28.
In the end, he's grinning. "Only in America." He says.
Any sane person would take Jockos, remodel it, add fancier stuff around the steak, pick from a nice range of local Paso Robles wines for the wine list, and charge $95-125.
I'm very happy Jockos remains insane.