Lunch out

In my department, we have get-togethers over lunch from time to time. Part of this is that there aren't a lot of good and not-madly-busy-at-lunch restaurants close to campus, and part of it is it's just easier for everyone to get to eat - some people have class at noon but are free at 11, some people are free at noon but are in class right up to that time, etc.

So, we are having a pre-Thanksgiving "feast" next week. No one had signed up for the main dish so I offered to buy and have a turkey smoked. (It costs money for the smoker to do it, but it's easier than me having to babysit the thing for the 7 hours or whatever it would take to cook a turkey the size we'd need. And I'm not getting up at 4 am to put a turkey in the oven. And I know enough about bacteria to not want to put it in overnight on 250* or whatever it was that one of my friends' mothers did).

So I went out at noon today and bought the turkey (and it was a good thing I did - they're already getting picked over. The local grocery stores are strange - they restock ONLY at set times, and if a shelf runs out of something, they just shrug and go "we're out" even though they have it in their storeroom).

I ran it down to one of the local smoker/barbecue places. The lady knew exactly what was needed; the turkey will be done Wednesday (it was frozen and she kindly offered to thaw it in the restaurant's huge fridge; I would not have room for it at home).

After I filled out the information she needed (contact information and such), I spied that a booth was open. So I decided it was a sign I was supposed to grab lunch there - this is a restaurant that NEVER has a booth open over the lunch hour. So I told her I was going to get lunch and she said she'd send a server out.

I ordered my usual - the half order of ribs, with a side of beans and a root beer. It came quickly. The restaurant isn't fancy - the ribs are served sitting on Wonder bread in one of those oval plastic basket things, and the beans come in a little Styrofoam cup. But the food is reasonably priced and good.

I don't eat out often for lunch any more. When I first moved down here I did nearly every week - part of it was that my apartment kitchen was so small, dark, and depressing that I cooked as little as I could manage. And part of it was I was still kind of sad and shell-shocked from having moved nearly a thousand miles away from everyone and everything I knew. And it was a little bit of comfort, that weekly lunch out.

Over time, I sort of dropped that tradition - partly because I had a couple hellacious semesters where I barely had time to EAT lunch, let along go out somewhere. And I got more adjusted to living here, happier. And I own a house now that has a nice enough kitchen - if I'm going off campus for lunch, I usually go home and throw together a salad or make scrambled eggs or heat up last night's leftovers. It's cheaper and probably better for me on a regular basis.

But once in a while, it's nice to just go out for lunch. Today it looked like a real fall day - overcast, gray, the leaves have begun to turn. It's not chilly out but you could imagine that it was, looking out a window from indoors, because of the gray sky.

And I like the little restaurant I was in - it's one of my favorite places, as much for the way it feels as for the food. It's an odd little place - a single-wide trailer that's been modded so that it's a restaurant interior. Knotty pine paneling is on all the walls and the rather low sloping ceiling. The benches are built of the same stuff. There are perhaps a dozen or fifteen booths, plus a little cart that has additional condiments (jalapenos, chopped onions, extra sauce) in case you want them. It's kind of like what a restaurant would be if a submarine designer was on the design team.

I'm sure some more sophisticated types would think it was a truly awful place, but it makes me happy.

And so I sat there in my booth (it was the last booth up against the back wall of the building, and I was sitting with my back against the back wall, so I could see the whole restaurant). And I looked around.

And this is one of the things I love about small town restaurants: the mix of people who eat there. There was a group of students from the local high school with one of their teachers (I'm guessing it was a club having a noon meeting; they seemed to be discussing plans for something). There was a local dentist and his wife. There was a group of construction workers and their wives. There were a couple banker-looking types. And there was me. Everyone eats in the same place. There's no separation of black, white, Hispanic, native American. There's less separation by socioeconomic class. It's a real cross-section. And everyone was pretty happy and polite; the waitresses walked around making sure everyone had "plenty" (that's their question: they ask you if you have "plenty") and refilling drinks.

The food there is good. Oh, it's probably not the best barbecue ever and probably isn't the best I've ever had. But it has the virtue of being good and being close. And their beans are unusually good - unlike the way most of the people in my family make beans (baked beans with lots of sugar and molasses and junk), these are JUST beans - pinto beans with a little onion and a little ham or maybe salt pork in them. And they're cooked just right - they're not hard but not mushy. I have to say I prefer the Southern way of cooking dry beans (which is more like this method) to the traditional Northern way of making baked beans (again - all that sugar. I just don't like my vegetables to be sweet, unless they're naturally sweet like winter squash).

So I ate my half order of ribs and my beans and I drank my root beer. I looked at the desserts on the menu (fried pies, cobbler, ice cream) but decided I was too full to eat anything more.

I paid and the lady up front told me she'd see me again next week (when I pick up the turkey).

It was a nice small treat. Just what I needed today.