Gus’s has a downhome, divey comfort to it: this ain’t no fancy pants your-water’s-gonna-cost-you-$8.50 kinda place. This also ain’t no I’m-gonna-get-a-salad-cause-I’m-trying-lose-weight-and-I’m-worried-about-my-gall-bladder kinda place either. Nearly every damned thing in here is fried, and if it ain’t fried, it’s swimming in cheese the color of post-nuclear Armageddon.
Need a cup of late-night ceremonial-grade matcha green tea latte to quietly contemplate what has gone wrong with your life? Well, then: This is your place!
I’ve never had Nashville-style chicken before Tumble 22, but if it’s as good in its natural habitat as this, I’m all in. The chicken at T22 is perfectly fried, juicy, and delicious.