Mason Jar Provisions: Southern flavor done solid
There are many potential motivators when one makes a menu selection. Calories, for example, or fat, sugar and overall healthfulness — none of which are generally factors when you’re dining Southern, of course — but still.
I had but one consideration in the moment I chose jerky ($10) from the “Snacks” section of the menu at Thornton Park’s Mason Jar Provisions: I didn’t want to get my steering wheel greasy.
Because I was famished and I knew I was going to eat it in the car and hey, don’t judge me.
So, I rolled up — there were three open spots on East Washington right in front of the place — grabbed two sacks of food, all of which was ready, and rolled off, reaching in to claim my drive-home prize.
Except there was no jerky in the container so marked. Just meat in a box.
Chef and co-owner A.J. Haines chuckles as I tell him the story and relates one back.
“Back in Oshkosh (Wisconsin, Haines’ hometown), I worked at a bar where we’d do up pounds of the stuff. It was just something salty to sit and eat at the bar. We called it jerky.”
Indeed, the meat is a bit salty, but also smoky, fatty, tender. It’s peppery and vinegary and delicious. But it’s not what you’d think of as jerky.
“It’s kind of on the order of Jack Links teriyaki,” Haines says, chuckling, “but it doesn’t have to be dry and chewy. You shouldn’t have to fight with it.”
MJP’s jerky morsels were designed to be served as a bar bite for Burton’s Bar next door, you see. The eatery opened just as the bars were doing the same back in late June. The meat sits in brine and marinade and spends two days under Cryovac before a two-hour stint in the smoker. It’d be nice on a salad, but you certainly don’t need one.
You’ll probably want a fork, though.
There are other “snacks” here well suited for the bar crowd — luscious, almost cake-like bourbon-glazed pecans, pimento cheese — and they’re doing quite well. So, too, are handhelds like the smash burgers and hot chicken sandwich. Haines and his partner, Jeff Darnell — general manager of Burton’s, The Lodge and The Woods — were interested in a pairing of sorts between the businesses, but one that was entirely on the COVID-19 regulatory upand-up.
Burton’s serves to-go drinks. MJP has picnic tables 10 steps away. But even so, they’re doing a ton of takeout.
“A couple of weeks ago, it was like a faucet turned on,” Haines tells me, though he’s not entirely sure why. “The phone’s been ringing off the hook.”
It could be Haines’ resume, comprised of a veritable Who’s Who of Orlando favorites since graduating from Le Cordon Bleu: Luma, Prato, Disney, others. It could be the location, in the space most recently occupied by Big Time
Street Food. It could be a nice social media push from friends who have been helping out.
Or maybe, it’s the hot chicken ($13) — a take on Nashville-style that’s goofree.
“I don’t like the goo,” he
says.
I don’t prefer it either, to be honest.
I’m also a woman who embraces the Dark Side, and this sandwich boasts two fat, days-brined chicken thighs, dredged, brown-butter fried and spice-dusted. Those who love the goo can add on Buffalo sauce in a range of temps. But the medium, dust-only, was enough to make me want to head back for Fried Chicken Night (Wednesdays and Thursdays) to see what that’s all about.
It’s an impressively large menu: smash burgers (many of them doublepatty), po’ boys, fried bologna, pulled pork, even a tasty vegetarian option in the collard melt ($12) including pimento and Cheddar cheeses with braised collards, Balsamic reduction and chow chow on sturdy sourdough. This one was a bit soggy on the bottom by the time I got it home, but a comfort-food slam dunk for the meataverse.
All this stuff comes with about half a ton of nicely
spiced fries, too.
“Everybody loves the chicken thing and the barbecue thing,” says Haines, who’s also an alum of Cask & Larder, where the Southern food bug bit. “It’s always so flavorful and the spectrum is so broad when it comes to what to make and how to make it.”
Haines would like to have done his own pasta spot, he did similar work at Wolfie’s PizzaMia and Pizza Bruno, “but I can’t see people hanging out and drinking beers and doing that.” They do have pasta
specials, though, so keep an eye on social media to sample.
Though the doubled up chicken sandwich and burgers hit that food-porn wow factor, the single-patty Bourbon Blue ($13) hits all the right notes — prevalent tang, good onion coverage and tasty house-made pickles. My favorite, however, was the heart-smartest pick I made: the Farmhouse Salad ($13), a massive, gorgeous plate of mixed greens studded with peaches and beets and apples, dried cranberries and those heavenly pecans add texture (and almost do away with any dessert cravings you might have afterward).
“I can’t keep that thing stocked,” he says. “It’s blowing my mind.”
Not mine, really. It’s very well balanced: sweet, sour, textural, tangy. And though the red wine-peach vinaigrette is a secret recipe, I’ll applaud the creativity of leaving out the goat cheese in a beet-forward salad, which strategically puts it in the vegan-friendly column, as well.
Pretty sneaky, sis.
The Burton’s-adjacent plan seems kinda brilliant, too, “until you factor in that I opened up a restaurant during a pandemic,”
Haines jokes. Though he’s optimistic enough to have plans for even more on the menu.
“I’d love to do a muffuletta,” he says, “a Cuban, a Monte Cristo, maybe a Friday-night fish fry with catfish.”
None of these addresses my steering wheel issue, of course. But you can’t have everything.
Mason Jar Provisions: 805 E. Washington St. in Orlando. 407-270-4322 or masonjarprovisionsorlando.com/.
Want to reach out? Find me on Twitter or Instagram @amydroo or on the OSFoodie Instagram account @orlando.foodie. Email: amthompson@orlandosentinel.com. Join the conversation at the Orlando Sentinel’s new Facebook forum, Let’s Eat, Orlando.