I walked into Anchor Down on Friday night with the highest of hopes. All week at work it was “corn dogs this” and “corn dogs that” with me — anyone who came into my office wanting to discuss banner ads or the status of a radio script would leave with a zealous invite to dine on some dogs.
I discussed the maple whole grain mustard like I’d had a hand in its conception. I openly pondered the cutting-edge ingredients that were sure to be used in the vegan iteration. My art director buddy even caught me looking at pictures of the jalapeño cheddar hush puppies online. (It was a client website! I was doing market research!)
Finally, the clock struck 5:30 and I was out the door, a spring in my step and a giddy smile on my face. Taking down any small children or old ladies with walkers who happened to get in my path, I staked out a table and let my mouth water over the inevitable commencement of goodness.
I clearly wanted to like Anchor Down. I wanted to like it so damn bad. I mean, as a venture backed by the divine creators of The Mule, how could it be anything but good? But after half-finishing the meal, my excitement deflated like that of a kid who was just told her parents and Santa Claus are one and the same, all I wanted was a sazerac from WSKY and a blank slate à la Clementine Kruczynski.
It wasn’t all bad, but it definitely wasn’t all good. Allow me to break it down for you.
What Worked
1. The atmosphere was killer. Situated in OKSEA, a mixed-use Deep Deuce development utilizing 17 stripped and refurbished shipping containers, Anchor Down has all the makings for a great post-work hangout or late-night watering hole. The patio area was abundant, there was plenty of bar space inside, and it’s within walking distance of tons of other solid OKC establishments.
2. Dipping sauces were top-notch. Their signature condiment is the aforementioned maple whole grain mustard, which may sound weird to some but is definitely worth trying. Equal parts sweet and tangy, it paired really well with the homemade chips that accompanied the dogs. I also requested a side of their onion dip, which basically tasted like grocery store variety (that’s 100 percent a compliment). Plus, the Cheese Dog is paired with tomato gravy, a thicker version of tomato soup, which is damn near genius.
3. The staff was friendly and clearly cared. Especially being the new kid on the block, you could tell that the Anchor Down gang wanted to make sure the patrons were taken care of and would be back again. I even caught chef Beth Lyon sending back a basket of jalapeño cheddar hush puppies, claiming that the pup-to-cheese ratio was off (I totally agree with her there), which shows you that they give a crap about what they put out.
What Needs Work
1. The flavor was flat. I’ve had my fair share of vegetarian hot dogs/sausages in my lifetime, and this one just wasn’t up to par. The filling was almost completely masked by the overpoweringly thick corn batter and was in desperate need of some spice or herbs or something. Same goes for the Cheese Dog; this one would be greatly improved with a sharper variety of cheddar.
2. Let’s talk more about the batter. Now, it’s been a hot minute since I’ve consumed a corn dog, but this wasn’t quite what I was expecting. The presentation was awesome, but it tasted like deep-fried cornbread with a little bit of something in the middle — perfectly crispy on the outside, but needs to lose like half an inch on the thickness (probably the first and only time that clause has been uttered). The taste of corn was simply overwhelming, especially in regards to the hush puppies. With the girth of a decent-sized snowball, I was desperately hoping for a treasure trove of cheese or sprinkling of jalapeño chunks as I excavated deeper inside. But alas, there was none; I ended up just eating the few cheese curds and skinning all the pups for the crispy crust.
3. The ordering situation is just janky. We walked in looking like the ubiquitous deer in the headlights, and after asking one of the guys at the bar, we were told there was table service outside but not inside. Fine, no big deal. But then once you’re ready to order, you have to stand at the bar and fight for attention like Jan Brady. Having a designated “order here” sign/counter/flashing neon accouterment would definitely remedy this situation.
4. Only spoons, no forks. What?
But by all means, try Anchor Down for yourself, and do your part in supporting a burgeoning local business. Hopefully some of these problems get solved. But in the meantime, you can find me at The Mule.
