THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1994, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Thursday, October 20, 1994 TAG: 9410190038
SECTION: FLAVOR PAGE: F1 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY BILL RUEHLMANN, SPECIAL TO FLAVOR
LENGTH: Long : 135 lines
THERE ARE PLACES diners go for the chilled vichyssoise, the maitre d' looks like Alex Trebek in a tux, and the walls are done in shades of soft chiffon.
These places are not the Ragin Cajun.
Folks go to the Ragin Cajun for the beans. There is no maitre d', but Marty from the Party wears a shirt, shaves at least daily and flips eggs over easy at the bar. The salient decorator item is an oil painting of a dead fish, fileted, as well as a photo montage of one of the owner's dogs, a large poster of various beers and a single limp potted plant.
This place is housed under the sign of the Econo Lodge at 3108 Atlantic Ave. in Virginia Beach. Trimmed in eye-opening turquoise and pink, the Ragin Cajun provides a crimson bottle of Gebhardt's Louisiana Hot Sauce at each table. If one sits at the bar, one is treated to an unobstructed view of the ink rendering of the berserk poodle with the Mohawk.
For seven years, the Ragin Cajun was a hole in
the wall on 23rd Street. Now it has gone uptown and expanded. Now it has heat, bathrooms that actually work and a liquor license. But one thing hasn't changed:
The grub's still good.
``Our portions are huge,'' reports proprietor/chef Jack Graff. ``P.H.D.'s. Piled Higher and Deeper.''
Red beans and rice is an ambrosial bowl of steamy sustenance that comes on a plate because the bowl, already big, spills over. At $5.95, it's a meal. If the Ragin Cajun served nothing else, it would have fully justified its existence with this dish.
But the bill of fare, which changes daily, does indeed offer other things that appeal to the senses and stick to the ribs: Gumbo, Jambalaya, Lemon Pepper Pork Chops, Blackened Trout. Graff serves a Sausage and Shrimp Stir-Fry with onions, celery, zucchini and carrots that brings sweat to the diner's brow and a capacity to peel paint with the breath.
The only thing missing is the apostrophe in ``ragin'.''
``It didn't seem to matter,'' shrugs Graff.
This man is so laid back he is almost prone. Graff is a dart-direct kind of guy with no hidden agendas. Ask him if he has a message for the world outside and he will respond succinctly:
``Come into my place and spend your money.''
Dr. J has done just that. Moses Malone. Lou Duva.
``I leave 'em alone,'' says Graff. ``Everybody's a celebrity at my place. The president of the United States gets the same dish as the guy sitting beside him.''
On a recent afternoon the owner, 32, sat in his establishment before opening, sipping on a Coke after a swim in the rooftop Econo Lodge pool. He wore a sweat shirt, shorts, no shoes. Beyond the front window, a stone's throw from the white crush of the surf on the beach, automobiles and pedestrians moved colorfully up and down Atlantic Avenue like so many ads for a new cable channel - Denizens.
``When you walk into my place,'' Graff said, ``it's like the living room of my house. Kick off your shoes. Smoke your cigar.
``Spill your drink - somebody'll clean it up.''
And if you don't like it, tough cheese.
``You can't please everybody,'' Graff said.
Still, he's fussy about one thing:
``When you go out to eat, you should get what you pay for,'' he said. ``You can have a chicken breast at a fancy place that costs you $16.95. Or you can have it somewhere else, and it tastes the same for $4.95.
``We're down-home. We keep the prices low and treat you nice. The people who come in here are my friends, thousands of 'em.
A little of this and that
He's a local himself. The son of an agent for the Fruit Grower's Express Co., Graff attended Plaza Elementary and Junior High, graduating from Kellam High in 1980. He always worked; but of his three main endeavors - construction, lawn care and restaurant work - he preferred the latter.
``I worked every place with an opening,'' Graff said, ``from Milton Warren's Ice House on the beach to the Town Point Club at the World Trade Center. I was a dishwasher at Wesley's and a short-order on the pier for a while, jumping from job to job. At Yorgy's, I did everything.''
He studied under Yorgy's chef Chuck Mamoudis, who had gone to school at Louisiana State University and himself studied under New Orleans culinary artist Paul Prudhomme. A little of this, a little of that, crawfish pie. Close your eyes and here comes the bayou.
``I liked the chemistry,'' said Graff.
Enter the Ragin Cajun. Graff calls the original location ``a boxcar eatery,'' and that's a slight exaggeration of size. But red beans kept the customers coming.
One enduring fan is Danny Teagarden, 84, the gray ponytailed guru of 23rd Street who still runs Musical Arts two doors down from Graff's old location. (Graff is now turning that into One-Eyed Jack's taco stand.) Teagarden played a hot sax in casinos on the beach after World War II.
``This was Vegas,'' he recalls. ``The place used to jump, winter and summer. Wine, women and song.
``I had a line of girls. The Latin Quarter, the Officer's Club, the Piney Point. Roulette tables, gambling, all the whiskey in the world.
``Oh God, oh God, oh God, it was beautiful.''
Now he thinks the new hotels all look like hospitals and penitentiaries, but he loves the Ragin Cajun.
``The food is good,'' says Teagarden. ``Jack's a great cook and he's real people. A first-class guy.''
Teagarden's endorsement beats an advanced degree from Harvard in these parts. Graff brings meals over in person for his friend. And offers an endorsement of his own: that's Teagarden's portrait in the Ragin Cajun, hanging right next to the dog photos.
``Don't forget to tell them about the 99-cent breakfast,'' Teagarden says.
Eggs, pumpernickel toast and coffee, 99 cents every morning. One can also order a King Neptune's omelet with shrimp and scallops for $6.50. The morning man is Martin Mikulas, 33, dubbed Marty from the Party by street poet Teagarden.
Mikulas has been around the world twice in the Navy, lived in New York and Hawaii, likes it here. It's home. Mikulas also likes his boss.
``Jack's number-one concern is to feed his customers enough food so they leave full and happy,'' he testifies. ``He treats you right. You get more for the money on your plate.''
Jack's No. 2 concern is having a good time. A bachelor, he parties. He golfs; he sails; he fishes.
Graff runs on the beach with his latest pet, sheepdog Otis T., the one who had the liver transplant.
Then he cooks.
``I've always wanted to run the business, not let it run me,'' Graff said. ``My place isn't about business. It's a lifestyle.
``This is a friendly place. You walk in the door, I greet you. I'm cookin'.''
People tend to come back.
``It's not my personality,'' admitted Graff, ``it's the food.'' ILLUSTRATION: [Color Photos]
GARY C. KNAPP/Staff photos
Jack Graff, owner/chef of the Ragin Cajun in Virginia Beach,
prepares dinner, which usually includes a flame for show, Graff's
menu changes daily.
Graff's eatery is in a new location.
by CNB