You would think that in Oklahoma City we would have a real roadhouse bar, even on the outskirts of town. You know…the kind of bars where the men drink hard, the hot ladies dance, and all the bikers rev their engines until flames spew out the back.
Sure, they were once littered around the city, but with this generation’s gentrification, the hard drinking establishments were torn out and converted into medical marijuana outlets, for the most part.
Puff, puff, no thanks!
But it wasn’t until I stopped by the ripped-from-time Flamingo Lounge, 520 S. Van Buren in Enid, where all those bars and their stars once again made me re-discover a caustic barfly persona, a world-weary atmosphere of hopelessness, and, even better, a world-class bowl of Oklahoma chili to dry my drunken tears with.
For the most part, at least.
Parking alongside the building, you would think the Flamingo was a kitschy tiki bar with hula-hula drinks and snappy appetizers, and, truthfully, as great as those places are, I wasn’t in the mood for that type of experience.
But, walking in through the windowless door, I stepped into the well-worn grandeur of the place, the wood-paneled walls, the yellowed-stained pictures, and the many years of now-gone cigarette smoke that kept the place in good working order for the next generation.
As the Budweiser sign buzzed next to us, we sat near the available light from the one window.
Looking over the weathered posters, beaten signs, and a small selection of souvenir shirts—apparently, this bar has been around since 1958, the shirt tells me—I looked over to my right and saw what the Flamingo is somewhat famous for, at least in this area: their bubbling, steaming, over-flowing pots homemade beef chili.
“There is a God…”, I said aloud.
After giving our orders to the personable waitress, she had just turned to put them in when I asked about the big jar near the bar. She told me that they were pickled eggs ($1.79) and, of course, I told her I desperately wanted one.
Desperately.
After fishing one out of the tank and putting it on a paper plate, it was served with a bottle of Louisiana hot sauce on the side. My dead father loved pickled eggs and, sadly, I had never had one. Doused in hot sauce, with one bite, both preternaturally picked and supernaturally warm, it was a truly magnificent snack.
I let it slip down my throat, and I felt like I was spiritually bonded with my father’s essence, as we became one with the somewhat greenish egg, seeking answers from the dead universe.
As I was on an enlightening trip, my wife had the most interesting appetizer, a bowl of non-Texan Texas Toothpicks ($6.49). When jalapeno slivers are cut up and then deep-fried, they are magically turned into a frittered treat that we were really into.
While I had them once or twice in Texas barbecue joints a few years ago, this recipe was flavorful bliss. The jalapenos were already fire, but a bit of Flamingo’s homemade sauce—a barbecue and ranch concoction—and sir, I was ready to go.
After a few swallows of ice water, our mains were up, starting with my wife’s Frito Chili Pie ($7.25). Here, their “award-winning chili” is beautifully churched-up with a handful of Frito corn chips and cheese…but I guess my wife asked for onions and, from the waitress’s non-plussed expression, that apparently was a faux pas.
Regardless, even though I grew up with the Frito pie culture and the plenty of onions on them, I was shocked to find out that my wife had never really had one! Guiding her to her paper cup filled with the mythical concoction, I could see her worldview was ultimately changed with that first bite, mostly for the better.
She downed the whole cup.
But, for me, I wanted the best thing that the Flamingo does and, even though the menu was kind of slim, I was told by one of the well-fed customers it was the Chili Cheeseburger ($9.49) with a side of hand-cut onion rings ($3.49).
With the mansplaining chili just dripping off the bun onto my jeans, double patties, melted cheese, and cut-up onions, this was a hearty sandwich that had to be reckoned with.
As the chili-cheeseburger filled my belly, the onion rings finished the job.
Sure, I had never heard of the Flamingo, but you can be damn sure I will spread the word through the whole state. With the “bad boy” atmosphere reeling me in, it’s the “good boy” chili that will definitely keep me coming back!
Cómpralo ya!
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Follow Louis Fowler on Instagram at @louisfowler78.
