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Dell's Den Is
Just as Good as Recorded Message Promises
(By Stacy Jones, August 27, 2006) |
Valley,
Alabama, is situated near the Georgia border, just off Interstate
85 halfway between Atlanta, Georgia and Montgomery, Alabama.
Mention Valley, population 9,200, even to most Alabamians, and
you'll get some searching looks as they try to puzzle out its
location. The town of Valley, however, is home to one of the
most unique places I have ever visited, located off interstate
exit 79 on Summerhill Road.
I found out about Dell's Den the
same way most non-locals learned about the restaurant and decided
to visit. About three or four years ago, my husband Mike gave
me a phone number and told me to call it and listen. He had obtained
the number by listening to "The John Boy and Billy Big Show,"
a popular, comedic morning talk radio show based in Charlotte,
North Carolina, and broadcast throughout several southern states.
I called the Dell's Den "Ad
Talk" number and listened. What I heard was an approximate
five-minute commentary, supposedly recorded by Dell, the restaurant's
proprietor. Part of the message was devoted to a lively description
of the menu fare, including their famous "T-Bone steaks
and jumbo shrimps." Halfway through, Dell switched gears
and began talking about his love of nearby Auburn football, mentioning
some of his travels to witness his favorite team in action.
A few weeks later, I called again
and listened, discovering that the recording had been updated.
Part of Dell's new commentary had been devoted to proper "Den"
etiquette, which included a prohibition on loitering outside
in one's car, or walking up to the front counter and trying to
place an order while taking on a cell phone, a definite no-no,
according to Dell. Apparently,
I learned, Dell also has a ban on "crazy people" coming
to the Den. If you happen to be crazy, Dell said, then best to
"keep your money in your pocket" and your posterior
"in the wind."
I was hooked. I had to visit this
one-of-a-kind place. So this past July, while traveling through
southeast Alabama, Mike and I stopped off in Valley. We found
Dell's Den tucked away in a residential area of town, flanked
by the near proximity of a house. Dell's smacked of simplicity
from the outside: a basic rectangular block building with a plain
white sign near the door announcing in black letters the name
of the establishment.
Inside, the lights were dim, and
a jukebox played against the wall. Only one table was full: seated
there was a group of men, apparently enjoying each other's company,
as they laughed and talked. At the counter, we met a robust man
wearing a t-shirt that bore the name of the venue.
We seated ourselves at one of the
austere booths near the back, and this imposing man shuffled
over to us, as though tired from a day of work, and put down
a pair of menus. Mike and I marveled over the inexpensive prices
of the food, finally deciding to split the most costly item on
the menu: the T-Bone steak and a half dozen jumbo shrimp, accompanied
by salad and baked potato, at a mere $13, including tax. The
menus themselves provided enjoyable reading. Dell's no-nonsense
character shined through in his presentation. In several places
on the menu, he gave patrons opportunities to order extras that
were not part of the entrees: extra onions or extra sauce, for
instance. However, he was upfront, stipulating in three or four
places "extras cost extra."
We went to the counter and ordered
our food, along with two iced teas. Mike told me later that the
moment this man began talking, he knew from the deep, distinct
voice that this must be Dell. I thought so, too, but I wasn't
convinced. Part of my debate had involved whether such a colorful
character as Dell, based on his "Ad Talk" messages,
really even existed. If he was a real person, I had told Mike,
I bet he wouldn't even be present at the restaurant.
We sat back down at our booth and
waited for the food to arrive. I picked up a copy of Jet magazine
and saw that the subscription label was addressed to Henry "Dell"
Preer. This discovery helped put to rest my suspicions about
Dell's existence: if a magazine was addressed to him, then Dell
must be a real person. And the robust man at the counter had
to be Dell, based on a comparison of his voice to the "Ad
Talk" messages.
After several minutes, our food
arrived, and it was everything Dell, who loves to tout the quality
of his food on his recorded messages, had promised. We devoured
everything on the two Styrofoam plates he had brought us, and
then sat for a moment marveling over our sudden fullness.
When we went back to the counter
to pay, Mike struck up a conversation with Dell, starting by
telling him how much we enjoyed the food. Mike gave Dell a 20-dollar
bill and told him to keep the change.
"I'll give this to her,"
Dell said, pointing back to a woman working in the kitchen, visible
behind the bar counter.
"Is that your wife?"
Mike asked.
"Well, she tries to be,"
Dell said, looking as though he were trying to suppress a slight
grin.
Mike went on to tell him how we
heard of "Ad Talk" and came to visit the restaurant.
Dell told us that after all their talk about him on their radio
show, John Boy and Billy hadn't even been down to visit the Den,
and he went on to explain that he didn't even really want all
the notoriety.
However, he seemed to warm to us
even more after I explained that I wrote a newspaper column and
had considered writing about him. "I might have to give
you a shout out in my 'Ad Talk,'" he said.
I told him we would be flattered
and wrote down our names and phone number, in case he ever happened
to be traveling through the Mid-South and wanted to partake of
some famous Memphis barbecue with us. I revealed to Dell that
I knew he liked barbecue ribs, since he had mentioned one time
on "Ad Talk" stopping to eat at Sticky Fingers in Chattanooga
during his Auburn football meanderings.
Mike and I left Dell's Den that
night with satisfied appetites: both for the culinary experience
of the food and the unique local color of the place. I have since
called "Ad Talk" to see if Dell gave us a nod, but
he hasn't yet updated his message. In the meantime, call my friend
Dell's "Ad Talk" and give a listen at (334) 756-3336.
If there's room to leave a message at the end of the recording,
tell Dell that Stacy, a petite little white woman from Memphis
who happens to be writer, said to give him a yell.
(Stacy Jones, a Southerner,
is a Master of Fine Arts student in fiction writing at The University
of Memphis. She is a native of Guys, Tenn., and her columns,
which appear on Sundays, are archived at Southern-Drawl.com.) |
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