A few weeks back, my TLO editor Patrick told me about Pelican’s, 291 N. Air Depot Blvd. in Midwest City.
Opening in 1980, and apparently not changing a lot since, he wistfully recalled a 20th-century style seafood spot stuck in a bygone era, a place where wood, wood, and more wood adorned the interior, and a Steak and Ale inspired salad bar took center stage; a place that survived while its cohorts like Garfield’s, Harry Bears, and Der Dutchman went overboard.
I honestly had no clue what Patrick was talking about.
I had heard the name Pelican’s, but it was the type of place my father and mother only went to for special “mommy-daddy” date nights, convincing me that it was for grown-ups only. Meanwhile, I got a Totino’s pizza and a generic Vess cola from Mayfair Market.
But, in the mood to check out a time machine, I took Patrick’s hint and – with my button-up shirt, my cuffs creased, and my hair slicked back – decided to try Pelican’s for a quick lunch with the missus.
He wasn’t lying about the wood:
We went at an odd dining hour, and not surprisingly, the clientele was much older than I realized, with I assume many of them being long-time customers who stopped by the place in the 1980s while the kids played in the arcade at Heritage Park Mall.
We were seated very quickly, with unsweetened iced teas and a mini-loaf of bread arriving after a few minutes.
Originally, I was going to start with the budget plate of escargot. But, due to my girlfriend's disgust at the idea of my inhaling food-grade snails, instead, we started with her appetizer choice, the Stuffed Mushrooms ($11.99).
This was good stuff!
The mushroom caps were filled to the brim with crab stuffing, baked in garlic butter, and topped with melted Swiss cheese. The buttery goodness of the mushrooms was a thing of greasy beauty that powered me up like Mario on a bender.
For her lunch, my girlfriend got the Beer Boiled Shrimp ($11.99), an intoxicating way to boil, I guess, shrimp. With six jumbo shrimp, boiled in beer, then chilled and peeled with their tails still on, it was served with French fries. Boozy!
To be fair, there wasn’t a lot to the order, but it was a classic seafood dinner—especially for the 1980s. It was a perfect way to enjoy shrimp, dipped in a spicy cocktail sauce or the house’s signature tartar sauce. With the big plate of fries, it undoubtedly was a great time for seafood then and now!
Since I was denied snails, I got the next best squeamish thing on the menu – Frog Legs ($12.99). The long-legged amphibians are hand-breaded, double-dipped, and deep-fried to a croak, served with a mild tartar sauce and the best side for frogs, a heap of rice pilaf.
I get frog legs when I can and, to be honest, it seems that Pelican’s may have the best in the city.
Bounding and leaping into my mouth, with around six of them on my plate, they were perfectly fried, well-seasoned, and extremely succulent, tasting like waterborne chicken. It was a pleasure to devour. No matter what, you simply have to try them when you can.
As I was paying the bill, for dessert instead of ice cream, we capped off lunch with the Key Lime Pie ($6.99), a “tart and sweet tropical delight” that was homemade and out of sight. It was the perfect post-script to lunch, as key lime always is.
As I sat there ingesting my meal, I was very impressed, so much so that I will come back for dinner, where the specialties really shine, including Pelican's Crab Cakes, Deep Sea Scallops, and, for a change of pace, the salad bar.
So, sure, Pelican’s has the reputation of your parents' restaurant of choice, with their well-priced seafood and inoffensive demeanor, but maybe—just maybe—it’s time for your generation to give this eatery its well-intentioned due.
Cómpralo ya!
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Follow Louis Fowler on Instagram at @louisfowler78.
