So, I've mostly behaved on my recent travels, but last night, I heard the siren call of a family style country-eatin' place, and I went.
It was weird on a lot of levels. They put me at a table for six, and that was awkward as fuck. I eventually had to tell the poor waitress that I wasn't waiting on anyone else and she could go ahead and take my order.
Dinner was, among other things, a biscuit, some gravy, a slab of chicken fried steak as big as my head, and mashed potatoes.
If I haven't discussed this before, the mighty potato, in all its permutations, is my weakness. Mashed potatoes are my kryptonite. And these were really, really good. Now, they may have been doctored instant potatoes. I'm willing to admit that. And moreover, I'm willing to admit that I do. not. give. a. fuck. I ate the entire bowl of them. And the sweet little waitress offered to refill my tater bowl (remember, family style). I said no. It took every fiber of my being to say no, but I did. As for the gravy, I had a tiny bit and it was delicious. The chicken fried steak, I ate half and waved the white flag (AKA my napkin).
I overate, yes. I was miserable, yes. But I can think of times where I'd have eaten all of it, and then some, and stopped for pie at the place next door. And have been even more sick and miserable.
So it's a win, sort of.
I'm ready to go home.
ae
It was weird on a lot of levels. They put me at a table for six, and that was awkward as fuck. I eventually had to tell the poor waitress that I wasn't waiting on anyone else and she could go ahead and take my order.
Dinner was, among other things, a biscuit, some gravy, a slab of chicken fried steak as big as my head, and mashed potatoes.
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| Beige: It's What's For Dinner |
If I haven't discussed this before, the mighty potato, in all its permutations, is my weakness. Mashed potatoes are my kryptonite. And these were really, really good. Now, they may have been doctored instant potatoes. I'm willing to admit that. And moreover, I'm willing to admit that I do. not. give. a. fuck. I ate the entire bowl of them. And the sweet little waitress offered to refill my tater bowl (remember, family style). I said no. It took every fiber of my being to say no, but I did. As for the gravy, I had a tiny bit and it was delicious. The chicken fried steak, I ate half and waved the white flag (AKA my napkin).
I overate, yes. I was miserable, yes. But I can think of times where I'd have eaten all of it, and then some, and stopped for pie at the place next door. And have been even more sick and miserable.
So it's a win, sort of.
I'm ready to go home.
ae
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