Lunch At Barefoot Bernie's.

Mr. Hawthorne and I took our weekly trip (sometimes more) to the WalMart today. I'm looking forward to the day when I can become a WalMart greeter. They always look so happy. So congenital. I think I meant congenial. We had decided earlier to grab something to eat on our outing. The foreplay started: Mr. H.: Where do you want to go? Rosie: I don't know. Where do you want to go? Mr. H.: I don't know. Rosie: Well, I don't want a salad bar. No Pizzazz Pizza. (Pizzazz has the best salad bar, {I hate buffets and bars, with some exceptions.} but I've never cared for their pizzas.) Mr. H.: Well let's go to MacDonald's and split a big, greasy burger and fries. Rosie: I'm not in the mood. What about the real Chinese place? Mr. H.: No, I want to get out by dinnertime. Rosie: Well, what about that place in Kitty Hawk between the bypass and the beach road at the end of the beach road? I can't think of the name of it. Mr. H.: You mean Rundown Cafe? Rosie: Yeah, that's it. Mr. H.: Call and see if they're open. You got a phone book in your truck? Rosie: withering look I call. They're closed for the season. So we're cruising down the by-pass and Mr. H. sees Beach Bread Company and do I want to go there. I say yes so's at the last minute he misses the turn. He goes up to Barefoot Bernie's, crosses three lanes to do a U-ey sorta through the end of Barefoot Bernie's parking lot and drives back to the Bread Company. We go in to a dark area with an array of delicious looking sweets on the right, displays of bread, and a deli at the end. The dining area is in the back left. There's a line at the deli. A couple is seated in the dining area and there's one person at the bar. We stood there, waiting to be seated. Waiting. We saw no one. Except the guy working the deli counter. We waited. And waited. And waited some more. I don't know if it was a full minute or not. Felt like a lot longer. But when I walk into a restaurant, I like to be acknowledged. Nobody knew that I came in and nobody knew, I think, that we left. Just an acknowledgment. "Hello, I'll be right with you," will suffice. So we took our money and left. I'm really hungry at this point because I had to wait for him to watch a 3 hour Star Trek movie before we left and he missed the last 15 minutes because of a phone call I had answered that was for him. That phone call made him unpleasant. And, always up for disappointment, we went Out.To.Eat. After not being acknowledged at Beach Bread Company, we mutually decided to go to Barefoot Bernie's.

We were seated at a booth next to the window and I was able to shoot a few pics of two Lady Liberties walking around, semi-dancing, and waving in the rain. Yet another job I don't want. Do they make you want to run home, get your shoe box full of receipts, and have your taxes done? No? Me neither.

Did I mention the service was kind of sloooow? Noooo? At the bar side of the restaurant, there was one person at a table who was eating, and our Waitress #1 was waiting on him. There were about 4 people at the bar who the barkeep was keeping. In our room, there was a large table of women (10-12?) who had finished eating. There was a couple in front of us and another couple with a baby on the side who were both being taken care of by Waiter #2. After a while, I told Mr. Hawthorne we'd just be getting our Crispy Rice Soup if we'd gone to the Chinese place I wanted to go to in the first place.

Sometime around here, our waitress came to take our drink order. Mr. H.: Diet Soda Rosie: Unsweetened ice tea with 5 pieces of lemon, please. Waitress brought me my tea and lemon and came back to Mr. H. with a glass of ice to ask him what he wanted again. I got 6 pieces of lemon! I'm ecstatic. We order. Mr. H.: I'll have the fried oysters lightly fried and the french fries extra crispy. And a side garden salad with blue cheese. Again, he threatened to send any flaccid fries served to him back to the kitchen. I sure the kitchen was quaking at notice of this and I really didn't think they'd get the request. I might have been wrong. Either they already make kick-ass fries or they adjusted for our request of extra crispy. Anyways, the french fries were great. I ordered the Teriyaki marinated tuna with Asian Slaw and a side Caesar salad. The salads arrived. We looked for our tableware. No napkins. No forks. No knives. No nothing. Wait. I had a straw with my tea. I started picking at my Caesar with my fingers and looking for our waitress. I finally see her in the bar area serving that one guy out there, then coming up the steps to our area. I wave wildly and spastically to get her attention. She doesn't notice me but the two other couples and the baby and the table of large women do. Wait. I meant the large table of women. Finally, we lock eyes. I frantically gesture fork signs to her. Now, you do a fork sign. Please.

Here's Mr. Hawthorne's mixed green salad. Looks very nice. I tried a bite of it and I'm not sure about the blue cheese dressing. At first bite, I didn't like it. Something was off. I couldn't determine what because I wasn't allowed a second bite.

I had a serviceable Caesar salad and you know I'm critical of them. Actually, I wouldn't call this a real Caesar salad. It was an all right salad. Just not what I consider Caesar. Note: Just Parmesan cheese doth not a Caesar Salad maketh.

I could've sworn Mr. Hawthorne ordered fried oysters with a side of fries, Damn my lying ears. Apparently he ordered a honkin' HUGE plate o' fries with some oysters thrown in. "What," he asked our waitress, "no cole slaw with this"? I said they had cole slaw. I had Asian slaw on my plate. He told me to taste it to see if he'd want it. I hadn't tasted it yet, but I knew he wouldn't like. Mr. Hawthorne likes traditional cole slaw. Plus I didn't want to taste my tiny bit of Asian slaw since I hadn't taken any pictures yet. The waitress finally intervened and told him they had another cole slaw which they served with their BBQ. Great. Bring it on. Sadly, I forgot to take pictures of his "cole slaw." Have you ever had a cole slaw without mayo? I don't know what was in this cole slaw. Couldn't taste any sweetness or any vinegar or anything. It was pretty much tasteless. But it glistened with something. Oil? It wasn't good.

I counted 6 oysters and 3 pounds of wonderfries. I asked for an oyster. I picked it up and some liquid dripped from it. Oil? I dipped it in the aioli (?) sauce. Didn't like the sauce. The oyster was greasy, heavily battered, and tasteless, oyster-wise. What a disappointment.

I had marinated Teriyaki tuna with Asian slaw on a Kaiser with a shit-load of fries. What is Asian about the slaw? I don't know. Really didn't care for it. Not much flavor. There was a bare sprinkling of cilantro on my plate. Does the cilantro make the slaw Asian? I know Sandra Lee once said, "Cilantro is the parsley of the East." so's I'm just wondering.

My tuna did come medium rare. It was OK, barely. All right. It wasn't good. At all. I try so hard to be nice, but sometimes my taste buds and sensory apparati just get overwhelmed by mediocrity or assaulted by bad food. I didn't like the texture. I didn't care for the marinade. The slaw was uninspired. And uninspiring. Here's the bottom line: 1 side Caesar salad lunch $3.75 1 side mixed green salad lunch $3.75 1 Teriyaki tuna sandwich $9.95 1 Louisiana oyster lunch $7.95 1 side Asian slaw $1.95 (NOTE: It wasn't my Asian slaw. It was non-mayo/non-traditional slaw and not good. And $2.00 for freakin' SLAW?!!? No. Just no.) 1 iced ted $1.95 1 diet coke $1.95 Total with tax - $33.98. Most of the times, we are very good tippers. But during the "can't get the drinks to the table" part, he counted down to 15%. When we got to the "no utensils" with which to eat our salads part, he was down to 12.5%. He left $5. And once again, Mr. Hawthorne and Rosie leave yet another restaurant, bitchin' at each other. Why do we do this? We could've bought a bushel of oysters for this crap! When will we learn? I'm self-flagellating. Can't believe I did this. Again. Mr. H. is self-flatulating. Sorry. Excuse my self-defecating sense of humor. And we still have the deprecated WalMart to go to, then on to the Chevy place to pick up Mr. H's truck for its 90,000 mile do-wop. To the tune of $1100. Ouch. If you've stayed this long with me, bless you. And please talk to me. I love comments.