All reviews are from people who have redeemed deals with this merchant.
What You'll Get
Most children won't eat a vegetable unless it is fried, just like they won't walk a dog that isn't wearing a bowtie. Pick your battles with today's Groupon: for $10, you get $20 worth of pub fare at Joe's Gizzard City in Potterville.
The resident fried food fanatics at Joe's Gizzard City, lauded by the Food Network's Diners, Drive-ins and Dives, assemble hearty platters of deep-fried chicken gizzards and other pub grub. Limber up chomping muscles with a heap of Joe's Famous chicken gizzards ($9.95 for a full order), which arrive coated in Joe's signature homemade batter mix, or served Cajun, naked, or dressed in a tuxedo. Joe's Batter burger ($8.95) cloaks a 1/3-pound beef patty in batter to sneak up on unsuspecting hunger pangs. The hefty dinner menu includes Joe's fish dinner ($9.95), whose quartet of battered and fried Alaskan pollock fillets gives diners a taste of the ocean more authentic than snacking on the Great Barrier Reef.
The Fine Print
Promotional value expires Apr 7, 2012. Amount paid never expires. Limit 1 per person, may buy 2 additional as gifts. Limit 1 per table. Dine-in only. Merchant is solely responsible to purchasers for the care and quality of the advertised goods and services.
About Joe’s Gizzard City
The cherry-red Diners, Drive-ins and Dives convertible idles beside a giant rooster statue in the Gizzard City parking lot. Inside the diner, Food Network's Guy Fieri stands over a deep fryer, a full burger battered in his gloved hand. With a sizzle and a grin, Guy drops the entire creation into scalding oil, yielding Joe's Gizzard City's newest creation, the Triple D burger. After spending years battering chicken in his grandmother's secret blend of ingredients, co-owner Joe Bristol Jr. decided to experiment with the hot oil, and now deep fries hot dogs, Oreos, and even whole burgers. But the eatery isn’t called Gizzard City for nothing. Pressure cooked in garlic and celery powder until tender, Joe's namesake chicken gizzards arrive to tables cloaked in Cajun spices or crowded into the cheese-filled confines of an omelet.
Hesitant diners begin to sample gizzards, cautiously at first, but then letting forth happy sighs that reverberate off neon beer signs, a projection TV, and a weathered wooden bar. The staff operates on the same irreverent attitude that led them to deep-fry a Twinkie, joking with one another and playfully asking guests to help with the dishes. Booths the deep red hue of a lobster with lost cue cards cradle lingering patrons who chat with Joe Jr. about his numerous Tennessee Country Music Association awards.