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