This place is like home, but slightly better.
I'm from california. I was in oklahoma for a wedding. After 14 hours of travel, I got to my hotel at 3am and passed out. The next day, the peanuts and coke had worn thin, and I had a mighty hunger. I took the rental truck in search of adventure and sustenance. I had many options, but not being a native, I didn't know what to choose. So I asked the gods of travellers for their blessing and swerved into this place.
Initial impressions were less than hopeful. From outside it looks a little worn in. When I got inside, I was even more apprehensive. It looked like a cross between hometown buffet and a fast food joint. I looked at the various offerings in the case and was not overjoyed.
The man behind the cash register was friendly, and talked to me the whole time. I asked him what he would eat. I do this a lot when I go to new places. A lot of people seem to think that if it's on the menu, it should be good. But del taco has hamburgers and Jack in the box has tacos, and neither are very good. Ask the guy you're ordering from what to get, let him be your sherpa through the restaurants offerings.
He suggested the chicken friend steak. I accepted, having been known to enjoy a chicken fried steak now and again. I pondered how it would compare to that of my dear mother.
He gave me a plate and a frothy dr pepper and pointed me to the sides. Now, I don't know if this was an all you can eat thing, but that was the impression I got, and I took advantage of it. I got beans, potato salad, fried okra, and some salad.
I ate quietly, marveling at the food. When the chicken fried steak came out, I made small talk with the woman who made it, possibly the wife. She was an absolute joy. The meal was delicious, and I enjoyed the friendly banter with the two people I met.
Now, onto the food itself. Which was great.
The salad was nothing to write home about. Iceberg and some bits of other things. Probably came from a bag.
The fried okra was a solid 4 out of 5. Crunchy sweet batter. The okra wasn't too slimy. The only issue was it lacked seaaoning. I put a pinch of salt on it and went straight to fried heaven.
The potato salad was... strange to me. Now, I'm a californian, so maybe this is how potato salad is done out here, I don't know. The potatoes were mashed. It was almost creamy. It had the right flavor, but the wrong texture. Don't get me wrong, it was delicious. Just different.
The beans were out of this world. I tried to get the recipe from the cook, but she wouldn't have it. "A handful of this and that" was her response. They're sweet and savory, a little tart and a little spicy. I don't know how to adequately describe the flavor. It was like being punched in the face with love.
Now the chicken fried steak. Was it as good as moms? No. It was in another league. It's like saying is that apple as good as apple brandy. It's just... that doesn't even make sense. Normal chicken fried steak (in my experience) is piece of cube steak, cornmeal dredged and pan fried, with a dusting of pepper and a glob of good country gravy. That's the way my mom made it, that's the way every restaurant I've ever been to has made it. This was the bastard child of a friendly cow and a golden drumstick of fried chicken, and the drumstick was getting weird with Frankensteins monster. Roughly the size of a medium dog, deep fried in wonder and happiness and all things that give heart attacks, smothered in a gallon of gravy that would give the healthiest man clogged arteries and a smile. It was like being hugged by a stick of butter. You feel so dirty, and you love it. I'm an enormous man of enormous appetite. I've been told that watching me eat is akin to seeing a tornado demolish a trailer park. I can go through a 72 oz steak and still polish off a baked potato. This chicken fried steak defeated me. I couldn't do it, it was too much. And I was ashamed.
Now. I don't want to build your expectations too high, here. Maybe I came on a good day. Maybe the stars aligned. Or maybe I was so hungry that a skewered and roasted rat would make me salivate. I don't know.
What I do know was that this was like coming home again. You know? Your parents are goofy, the house is a mess, and there's a funny odor in the air, but everything feels... right. They won't put up with shenanigans, and they expect you to be courteous, but they're inviting, and they'll make sure you leave with a smile and an extra five pounds. read more
