RESTAURANT REVIEW: Fish off the hook at Lassis Inn

There are times when choices can be crippling. Finding something to watch on Netflix at my house often results in a half hour of clicking through the sundry TV shows, movies and documentaries in a dead-eyed stupor before finally just giving up and folding laundry in a huff.

And trying to make dining-out plans often results in exchanges like this:

"What do you want to eat?"

"I don't know. What do you want to eat?"

"Oh, I don't care."

"Pizza?"

"No. Burgers?"

"Nah. Chinese?"

"Had it last week. Mexican?"

"Had it for lunch."

"Indian?"

"Meh."

"Sushi?"

"Ugh."

By 8 p.m. we're still at home, starving and digging through the fridge for the makings of pimento cheese and mayonnaise on toast.

Don't even get me started on trying to make a decision for lunch among the options at the Little Rock River Market's Ottenheimer Market Hall. I usually spend most of my time there reading menus posted above the booths like a tourist at an art gallery and, after finally settling on a choice, wondering if I should have gone with something else.

So many options and so much wishy-washyness.

Bless you, then, Lassis Inn, for making life a little bit easier.

The unassuming, light blue Little Rock restaurant and landmark has been around since 1905 and in or near its current location since the early '30s. It was featured in Chicago journalist Dave Hoekstra's 2015 book The People's Place: Soul Food Restaurants and Reminiscences From the Civil Rights Era to Today.

Lassis is like another Arkansas culinary legend -- the James Beard Award-winning Jones Barbecue in Marianna -- in that it sets out to do one thing really well. If you want to waste your life poring over a menu, head elsewhere.

Fried fish is Lassis' raison d'etre. No sandwiches, no chicken, no burgers, no wraps, no salads, just fish -- catfish or buffalo -- fried, in a tiny building with a handful of wooden booths and oddly small tables topped with blue-and-white-checkerboard plastic tablecloths. Containers of hot sauce, salt and pepper shakers, a roll of white paper towels and the one-page, laminated menu await diners at each booth. The walls are decorated with beer advertisements, black history posters, clippings of reviews from magazines and newspapers as well as clippings of news stories of the catfish industry. A jukebox sits by the front door.

There are sides, of course; slaw ($1.25), fried okra ($1.99 small; $3.99 large), tomato relish ($1.50), peppers (35 cents), fries ($1.25). But the star of the show is this wonderful fish in all its freshly battered, perfectly seasoned and masterfully fried glory.

I went twice for lunch, and left each time full and content.

The first visit was with a co-worker who ordered the Medium Catfish Fillet Dinner ($13.50), which comes with five fillets, slaw, fries, two hush puppies and a drink.

I went with the small Big Bone Buffalo Dinner ($9) -- four buffalo ribs, slaw, fries, two hush puppies and a drink -- along with a small order of okra. We were the only diners and ate as the excellent 2009 comedy Zombieland played on the TV near our booth.

The buffalo ribs were chewy and tasty, with not as much fish as the fillets, but what was there was artfully battered. For the uninitiated, the carp-like buffalo is a bit muddier than catfish, and the ribs have a long, white sliver of bone that's easy to discard. There are also smaller bones at its crunchy end that, again, aren't much of a problem. At first glance, the small order didn't seem like it would suffice, but it did.

Co-worker's fillets were as catfish fillets should be -- moist without being greasy and fried in Lassis' secret and perfectly seasoned batter that fuses cornmeal and spices in a peppery coating that enhances rather than overpowers the farm-raised fish, which owner and expert in the frying arts Elihue Washington buys from suppliers in Arkansas and Mississippi.

We both tore into the okra, which was nicely fried and seasoned. The only bad part of the meal came when I, in some strange attempt to eat okra with a utensil instead of my perfectly fine fingers, tried to stab two smaller pieces with a plastic fork and missed, sending them skittering across the little table and plunging to the floor. Alas.

The fries were fine, as was the creamy slaw. The hush puppies, which aren't homemade, were golden, crunchy little orbs with heavy meal inside and just the right amount of onion and seasoning. Those not inclined toward the full dinner with sides can order plates of fish and slices of white bread ($6-$20.25, depending on the size).

When paying our bill, we couldn't pass up Washington's offer of a couple of slices of homemade pound cake ($2.50 each) that he pulled from a covered plate on the counter. Back in the newsroom, we quickly knocked back both pieces despite initial thoughts that we'd save them for later. Though a little dry, the cake was valiantly saved by the sugary white frosting.

My next trip was taken solo and intended specifically for a date with a plate of catfish steaks.

Praise the lovely and convenient-to-eat-fillet all you want, and there will be no argument here, but a good catfish steak is my preference.

Yeah, there are bones to deal with, but when the cross-section cut of steak is done right it is the superior catfish experience.

Lassis -- surprise! -- does it right.

The small Catfish Steak Dinner ($8.50) comes with three fist-sized steaks and the requisite fries, slaw and pair of hush puppies. I also ordered a side of tomato relish -- vinegary, bite-size chunks of green tomatoes.

The steaks were comforting slabs of divine, fishy goodness. Again, perfectly battered and fried upon ordering, they arrived at my booth (an episode of Grey's Anatomy was on TV this day) piping hot.

Pulling the pieces apart, I dipped a few in ketchup or hot sauce, but ate the rest plain. They were flaky and thick, tender and moist. Actually, I wish I were eating some right now.

The choices at the Lassis Inn might be limited, but they're all good.

Weekend on 12/15/2016