We see if the birdie sand wedges are up to par at Beaver Meadow

The chicken pesto melt (on an outstanding marble rye)
The chicken pesto melt (on an outstanding marble rye)

Mark Twain (or someone – no one really knows) once famously called golf “a good walk spoiled.” Well, in the words of the Food Snob, “Lunch never spoiled anything!” Since Beaver Meadow Golf Club’s season is now in full swing, we headed down to the Beaver Meadow Bar & Grille to see what kind of taste treats await golfers at the 19th hole.

The dining area was empty when we stopped by, so we opted for the cozier confines of the bar, complete with a flat-screen tuned to the latest PGA event, live from the links. We perused the menu, and – ever the pun-suckers – selected the Golf Club sandwich and a pesto chicken melt. Would they come a la carte? Or would we run out of golf puns before the meal arrived? Only time would tell. We kicked back and enjoyed the soothing sounds of Jim Nantz  while we waited.

The Golf Club ($8.25) seemed like a must-get, thanks to the name. This sandwich was not bad, but it suffered a little bit from the three slices of dry, thin wheat toast that made it a club. The filling was great: turkey and ham, a tiny little bit of bacon and cheese with lettuce, tomato and mayonnaise. With any other bread, the club would have probably been a winner; unfortunately, we were not a big fan of the incarnation we received.

The pesto chicken melt ($7.75), on the other hand, was out of this world! Unlike many chicken pesto sandwiches we’ve had in the past, the chicken in this was not a grilled breast – it was a creamy, chunky chicken salad! This meshed with the pesto to form a flavor marriage we won’t soon forget. The best part? You guessed it: the mouthwatering, fluffy marble rye the sandwich was served upon. If only we had chosen that for our Golf Club sandwich!

Obviously, we are not golfers. If we were, we would strongly consider paying another visit to the Bar & Grille after our rounds. Avoid the wheat bread and pair your lunch with an Arnold Palmer (or its country cousin, the John Daly) and you will be on the green in one. We give it our blessing – so you’ve got that going for you, which is nice.

Author: The Food Snob

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