It’s nearly impossible for me to embrace any version of The Little Mermaid that differentiates from the Disney film, including those that preceded it. Even the source material got it wrong. No offense to Hans Christian Andersen, but Ariel does not turn into foam at the end.
Naturally, “Under the Sea” was stuck in my head upon entering The Little Mermaid Restaurant in Solvang. Other songs from the soundtrack were racing through my brain the entire day in anticipation for this review. During the drive, I caught myself humming “Poor Unfortunate Souls” (which was probably an involuntary reaction to the traffic jam on the other side of the freeway). I’m happy to report that there was no reprise, as my dining experience was neither poor nor unfortunate.
The Little Mermaid’s gable roof makes it look more like a house than a restaurant from the outside. The inside also gives off a homey feel, as if you’re entering someone’s dining room. If that was true, whoever lives there must love the ocean (I counted 13 fish-themed knick-knacks). The walls are aquamarine, but you can barely tell under all the stringed lights and mermaid memorabilia. Nearly every table is by a window, so no matter where you sit you’ll see the horse-drawn Solvang trolley make its way up Mission Drive at least once during your meal.
I intently studied the menu as soon as I was seated, as if my life depended on it. I didn’t want to miss out on any hidden gems. Originally I had planned to order breakfast for dinner (based on a positive Yelp review strongly advocating both the croissant French toast and the eggs benedict). The cut-off for breakfast at The Little Mermaid is 4 p.m., which is why I punctually arrived at 3. But after scanning the lunch selection, I came across the Big Mermaid Dog, a bacon-wrapped beef hot dog, with caramelized onions and diced avocado.
They had me at bacon. But I still wanted to examine the rest of the menu before fully committing. The next title that caught my attention was the Viking Shield, a $45.00 dinner for two described as “a grilled feast featuring grilled steak, chicken, Danish sausage, grilled vegetables, potatoes, and panela cheese.” I had never seen the word “grilled” used so many times in one sentence. Though slightly tempted, I decided to pass on the Viking Shield due to my lack of multiple stomachs. I wonder if all that food is served on an actual Viking shield rather than a tray.
Like most restaurants in Solvang, The Little Mermaid has its fair share of Danish dishes such as hakkebof (braised hamburger steak) and aebleskiver (pancake puffs). But this place also features a wide selection of Mexican cuisine—tacos, burritos, fajitas, enchiladas, you name it. The only Italian entrée I found on the menu was fettucine Alfredo (with your choice of chicken or shrimp). I’m a sucker for fettucine in most cases, but I just couldn’t stop thinking about that Mermaid Dog. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity,” I thought to myself. “Mermaid dogs don’t grow on trees.” I finally gave in and ordered the darn thing. I wanted to ask the waitress if it was possible to receive my meal on a Viking shield, but I chickened out at the last second.
Before reading the description, I imagined the Mermaid Dog being some sort of hot dog and fish combination. But there was nothing fishy about it, except for the price (upon the first glance at least), $12.75 for a hot dog and fries sounded steep, until I saw the size of the hot dog. I wish I could go back in time and warn myself of the Mermaid Dog’s enormity. I could have saved myself from ordering the nachos appetizer (which I devoured). By the time my hot dog arrived, I was already full. I managed to eat half of it before asking my waitress for a mermaid doggie bag.
I never did get to finish that hot dog. I could have sworn that I brought my take-out container home that night. Ninety-nine percent of me remembers leaving it on the kitchen table. I searched everywhere, emptying almost my whole fridge in the process. I suspect one of my parents found it and ate my leftovers, though neither admitted it. I hope they notice the sticky note I left on the milk carton that says: “Have you seen Caleb’s missing hot dog?”
Luckily I took a lot away from the few bites I did enjoy. The bacon and onions perfectly complemented the hot dog. I’ve never been a huge avocado fan, but I resisted the urge to pull them off (although I probably drowned out the taste with an overdose of mustard). Part of me still wishes they somehow incorporated seafood with the Mermaid Dog. Take a risk, throw some crab meat on there!
Caleb Wiseblood is still looking for his take-out container. Toss him some fish via Editor Shelly Cone at scone@santamariasun.com.
This article appears in Nov 24 – Dec 1, 2016.