April 19. Lunch In Dodge City.

 

When we were in Dodge City,

we asked a lady at the Visitor's Center

for suggestions for places to eat.

She did what I do when people at the beach

ask me for suggestions:

"If I want something to eat, 

I make it myself."

I liked this lady.

She directed us to Central Station,

a local family owned restaurant.

We were the only ones in the restaurant.

After all, it's 2:30.

Mr. Hawthorne ordered a salad with raspberry vinaigrette

and grilled beef.

He liked this.

I ate his garlic toast.

Damn diet.

 

I felt no compunctions whatsoever ordering the $17 filet mignon.

I'm pissed and hungry.

Plus I think I've lost about 5 pounds already

 on Mr. Hawthorne's diet.

I opted for the green beans (frozen)

and extra crispy French fries, which came not extra crispy,

and a dinner roll,

on which I slathered an inordinate amount of butter

 One thing I don't like:

I don't like my steaks wrapped in under-cooked bacon.

Don't like the flavor.

Don't like the bacon.

I pulled that off.

That left me with bloody rare beautiful filet mignon.

Mesquite grilled.

I relished this steak.

This is the third meal in 6 days
that I actually enjoyed.

The first was the nachos in Bloomington, IN.,
The second was the pho in Larned, KS., of all places.
Now, a steak.

After a satisfying meal,

the Hawthornes are ready to get the hell outta Dodge.

Heh.  I've always wanted to say that.
And mean it.