The breaded pork tenderloin might be Indiana’s greatest contribution to civilization aside from corn, open-wheel racing, and Axl Rose. You can find one practically anywhere here, usually consisting of an expansive fried pork cutlet far larger than the bun tasked with containing it. The best I’ve ever had actually came from Chubby’s in Sevierville, Tennessee, of all places, but Indiana is its home. In tiny Markleville, the Grill-A fries up a pretty good one.
Markleville sits south of Anderson along State Road 38, just east of State Road 109. John Markle laid out the village in 18521, and it incorporated as a town in 19122. Barely 500 people live there today, but Markleville remains vital: Reflectix insulation is manufactured inside the old high school, and the former W.H. Hardy Implement and Hardware Store3 was recently repurposed into an event center. Across the street, a 1912 building originally constructed as a bank4 has found new life as the Grill-A.
My stepdad Jerry was plugged into Indiana’s tenderloin scene, and I tagged along with him to a few of his favorite spots. Jerry had strong opinions about tenderloins, and I usually disagreed with them: he liked his thick and substantial, while I’ve always preferred mine pounded thin and wide. The Grill-A’s basic tenderloin lands somewhere in between, but it leans toward Jerry’s side of the divide. My recent visit, with my mom, aunt, and sister, was on what should have been Jerry’s seventy-third birthday.
I’d been to the Grill-A once already. Before you go, there are three things to know about the place. The first is that I’m 98% sure you don’t pronounce its name “Grill-Ayy.” That’s what my parents always called it, but the surrounding primate-themed decorations and signage eventually clued me in. It’s the Grill-A, as in a Hoosier pronunciation of the word “gorilla.” At least I think it is.
The second thing to know is that the water is downright dreadful. It tastes like artesian water -thick, and full of iron with a sulphuric aroma- and I noticed it from my first swig. Apparently I wasn’t alone: During my first visit, I overheard a waitress apologizing for it! The Grill-A’s water is evidently potable and doesn’t affect my preferred Diet Pepsi, but here’s some advice: don’t skimp on the pop or tea.
The final thing to know is that the Grill-A’s downstairs dining room is tiny: it doesn’t expand into the single-story block building next door. There’s only room for about eighteen people between the bar and surrounding tables, but another dining room upstairs can be reached via a side entrance. Customers are asked to check in downstairs first so the staff knows they’re up in no man’s land.
I’ve heard good things about the Grill-A Burger and Chicken Bacon Ranch Pizza. As a matter of fact, I’ve heard good things about all of the Grill-A’s pizzas and watched a steady stream of them get carted off for carryout. Nevertheless, I ordered a tenderloin dressed with pickles and mustard as God intended, plus onions because I was feeling sassy. The basic version cost $11, while an $18 jumbo is available with an extra bun and toppings if you ask. I made mine a meal with fries and the Diet Pepsi for another $4.99.
I couldn’t help myself and immediately took a huge bite out of my tenderloin before Mom reminded me that I probably ought to take a picture of the thing I was planning on writing about. True to its name, the tenderloin was tender and juicy, with plenty of flavor. The breading was crisp and seasoned, while its reasonable bun-to-pork ratio meant every bite included some combination of pickle, onion, mustard, bread, and meat without requiring a paintbrush to distribute everything evenly. Unfortunately, like nearly every thick-cut BPT I’ve eaten, I eventually hit some gristle. Still, one bad bite does not a poor tenderloin make.
I saved most of my fries for later, but I can report that they’re the star of the Grill-A. The fries are hand-cut with skin-on, and largely unseasoned aside from a little salt. What’s more is that they’re deeply potatoey in the best possible way! Mine were cool by the time I sampled a few, but my sister’s small supplement arrived piping hot with a delectable crunch. I’d never thought to dip them in cheese before, but dunking them in a can of Rico’s at home was bliss.
Overall, I’d give the Grill-A’s BPT a 4/5. People on Facebook and Yelp rave about the place, but I’m simply not a thick-cut tenderloin guy and the gristle didn’t help. If you’re from around here and love the BPTs that places like the gas stations in Gaston and Matthews fry up, you’d give the Grill-A’s offerings a six on the five-scale.
Next time I’m at the Grill-A, I’m throwing caution to the wind and ordering the Big Back, a $20 monstrosity consisting of the jumbo tenderloin covered in buffalo sauce and pepper jack, with jalapeños and banana peppers piled on for good measure. I’m pretty sure Jerry would have approved of the jumbo part, but the rest might have required some discussion! Either way, going to the Grill-A to remember Jerry on his birthday was appropriate: he introduced me to plenty of places like this over the years, and celebrating his birthday over one of the foods he loved seemed like a pretty good way to keep him at the table as best we could. I’m glad we did- I miss him.
Sources Cited
1 Forkner, J. (1914). History of Madison County Indiana. A Narrative Account of Its Historical Progress, Its People and Its Principal Interests, Volume 1. book, The Lewis Publishing Company. Chicago, IL.
2 (See footnote 1).
3 Survey Number 095-589-56008 (1981). IHSSI (County Survey). SHAARD. Indiana Department of Natural Resources [Indianapolis]. Web. Retrieved September 20, 2026.
4 Survey Number 095-589-56007 (1981). IHSSI (County Survey). SHAARD. Indiana Department of Natural Resources [Indianapolis]. Web. Retrieved September 20, 2026.
