M&M’s Fish and Chicken Shack - Reno, Nevada

I haven’t had much real, authentic, Southern food. Sure, I’ve had plenty of deep fried chicken, fish, and of course ribs, but even though I’ve been in the South, I’ve never been in a real Southern “soul food” restaurant (what the hell is “soul food?”) When I read a review of M&M’s Fish and Chicken Shack in the Reno News & Review a few months ago,

http://www.newsreview.com/reno/content?oid=oid%3A56965

I knew I had to go—the food sounded absolutely great. I got a chance a couple of days after Xmas when my son Matt and I made the sojourn to the restaurant over on Mill Street, where it’s located in a non-descript group of businesses just east of Terminal Way.

You order and pay at the counter, probably because they get a lot of take-out orders (or maybe that’s the way they do it in the South?). Anyway, I order the fried catfish basket with a side of red beans and rice ($6.99); Matt had the fried chicken basket with fries ($6.99)—we also got an order of fried okra ($3.00). Is everything at this place fried? Absolutely not, remember that Southern cooking includes barbeque, and at M&M’s there are ribs, chicken, pastrami, and hot links, all cooked over a wood smoker in front of the restaurant.

We sat down with our drinks and the okra came first. Hot, right out of the fryer, these things were amazing. They were like little green nuggets, breaded and light as a feather. Never had ‘em before, sure will again.

My fish came before Matt’s order as it takes a little longer to fry the chicken. The pieces of catfish were breaded just like the okra, light, moist, and flavorful. They came with red beans over rice and collard greens with little pieces of ham in it. I nibbled at the food and tried to wait until Matt’s chicken came, before digging in. Then the waitress came up and told me they had mistakenly given me a plate rather than a basket. Apologetically she asked me if I wanted her to take it back and bring a basket instead—sure, I’ll give up this nice plate that includes an extra side, for a basket—no way.

Matt’s chicken was all wings, fried in pieces, minus the tip section. It was done perfectly, crisp on the outside and moist on the inside. It came with some very good thick-cut fries. He made quick work of this—I helped with the fries.

Before we left, I offered to pay the difference for the plate I’d received when I had ordered the basket. The two young ladies at the counter absolutely refused to take the two dollars I had in my hand so I put it in the tip jar and was thanked profusely—with giggles.

Needless to say, Matt and I were somewhat comatose as we left the restaurant, walking out the door into the cold and rainy afternoon. We’d agreed that we’d probably never eat again, or at least not until dinner. In particular, I was worried that somehow I was diminishing my girlish figure, particularly since I'd been fasting over the Xmas holiday.

As we stepped outside, Mitch Moore, the owner was tending the barbeque. The racks of ribs, chicken, and hot links looked fantastic and smelled even better. His barbeque is set up just under the edge of the drippy roof and he said this made his job a little difficult—good thing it doesn’t rain too much in Reno.

Matt and I agreed that a steady diet of this kind of food would probably cause premature death, but on the other hand, there’s still a lot on the menu that I need to try. That would include the barbeque, the fried oysters, the seafood gumbo, and many other things—the peach cobbler and sweet potato pie must be great desserts if one could be disciplined enough to leave room for it. I can’t wait to go there with Vicki, Tom King (Floridian) and Gailmarie (MFA, Arkansas).