Party's over kids...Very well done, I applaud you Middle America types for the type of mentality you've imposed on normal people over the past eight years. That's right, party's over. It's over for many, many reasons, even beyond the fact that your incumbent is leaving office soon; that savior of all your wonderful values. Where am I going with this? No worries, hang on there.
See? A meal at Bob Evans and its aftermath strangely but closely resembles the better part of a decade's worth of the "Middle America" mentality on this great nation's treasury, road systems, schools, hospitals, national forests, etc., and the list could go on. This "restaurant" is more like a stable, in which customers are invited to empathize with a poor barnyard hog destined to wind up in cheap pate, packing it with oats and rendered fat until it's liver bursts at the sides and it's time to "process" the poor thing. Let me break this review down into a few concise, handy categories, yes?
The Ambiance: High school Biology time, space cadets...except sprinkled with a little sociology...Ready? In terms of the dining atmosphere here at Bob Evans (kicking my heels and yodelling), can you imagine a genetic cross between: A Bible-themed amusement park sponsored by McD's, with each ride based on a different toby keith album AND the type of good-old-timey atmosphere on offer at those roadside crab joints in the early 1960's, run in Mississippi and Alabama by those scary people who kidnapped and killed civil rights advocates when attempting to register voters? Well, dang it, add Fox News and trucknuts and you've well got yourself a Bob Evans. Free "coffee substitute" refills if you wear camo. WHY would ANYONE born in the age of vaccines, antibacterial soap, wi-fi, toothpaste, research fellowships and the 1964 Civil Rights Act EVER want to simulate a "Middle America" type of experience? If you wish to trek forward, brave soldier, and experience what it would have been like to sit in a mess-hall full to the rafters of General Lee's soldiers, on the eve of their epic defeat to progress, come on in and order up them hotcakes.
The Food: Everything is essentially trucked in frozen (hopefully) and lovingly processed in the "kitchen" (back room) by the dedicated, knowledgeable and literate (read: monkeys) staff. In the culinary aspect, I would argue that Bob Evans easily out-innovates molecular gastronomy powerhouse and what is perennially considered the best restaurant in the world, Ferran Adria's El Bulli in Spain. How so?
See, molecular gastronomy's feats are impressive and all, but it can't compare to a meal at good ol' Bob Evans. The insane, death-defying portions and chemical composition of the food are responsible for some of the most gnarly and epic gastrointestinal alchemy reactions ever devised by man or other beings (including space aliens and demons). If you think that playing with physics and organic chemistry is neat-o and love molecular gastronomy, welcome to the Monster Truck Rally of molecular gastronomy!
Oooh, look at me, I made a yummy foam out of raspberries and white chocolate. How dainty. No, girly man. This "food" is saturated with so much in the way of processed corn, triglycerides and hydrogenated oils, trans-fats and carcinogens that it is the health equivalent of putting your digestive system through the combined clusterbomb represented by: The depressing, tuberculosis-coughing, sooty misery of a Charles Dickens novel, the entire 1950's worth of cigarette production output,the Bush administration and World War III all rolled into one.
Hungry for seconds?
Conclusions: There's not much more left to say about the Bob Evans experience. In essence, only so much CAN be said without taking the frightening plunge yourself. Bob Evans serves food that reflects, as a microcosm within those yellowed walls, an entire mentality; sadly, one that General Grant thought he eradicated in 1865. The substances served at these restaurants possess the capability of sending the digestive system into an acid-trip of experiences it had never known the likes of. The menu also reflects a country (now thankfully, a subculture) of people who champion ignorance and are perfectly content not knowing the provenance of their food, how it has been genetically modified, but more importantly, how a cruel chain driven by marketers and agri-business is by nature, destined to implode on itself in the next decades.
Bob Evans will continue to be a refuge for those who didn't like the recent election results, shun organic foods and generally pray for the destruction of written language, just to mention some examples. Like the Neanderthals of several millenia past, they will shudder in the lonely, gray,glacial fog, awaiting history's merciful coup de grace as their mentality and way of life is forever absorbed, fossilized by progress, into the vast and solitary alluvial sands of time. read more