Being on the road, I want road food. I want the small-town diners and their specialties. I'm not looking for avocado toast. I want walleye in Okoboji, Iowa, on the Minnesota border, or a buffalo burger at a grill in Deadwood, South Dakota.
I've been gone a little more than a week. My favorite meals have been where I've been able to get to know and chat with the locals. Tiny Salem, SD has the most amazing diner called the Homestead, where I had a fabulous grilled egg and jalapeno bagel, strong coffee, and an illuminating discussion with a highway patrol trooper.
Some meals are more interesting. An Elvis Presley themed diner, also in South Dakota, featured smoked chicken wings with potato salad in a sort of mayonnaise soup. The flies seemed to like it, though I must confess, I did too - I ate every bite.
The buffalo burger wasn't bad, though I've had bison before. It's lean and tasty. The elk burger from the Corral in Gardiner, Montana was much better. Smothered in mushrooms and onions, I'm sure I smelled a fright; but after a day of hiking in Yellowstone, it sure hit the spot.
With ranches everywhere out west, I had to get a good steak at least once. The tenderloin at the Carbon County Steakhouse in Red Lodge, Montana was outstanding.
But there's no way I could eat like this all the time. I have to balance this rich cuisine with something lighter, so I have been liberally sampling the local beer whenever I can. Driving works up a thirst.
Service has been hit or miss. At a Mexican restaurant in Cincinnati, dining with friends before I officially got on the road, I politely inquired as to the whereabouts of my order after the rest of my party was almost finished. "Oh, you ordered food, too?" Came the surprised response. At the other end of the spectrum was the bartender who put a Corona with lime in front of me when I was almost done with lunch in Rochester, Minnesota. I offered that I hadn't ordered one. He attempted to argue with me. In fact, I hadn't ordered anything like that at all. Nor was I talking about the sun's corona; wasn't discussing the limestone cliffs in Minnesota; and probably hadn't even spoken in fifteen minutes. (That's the interesting thing about a solo road trip. Among the things I am resting are my vocal cords; I can go hours without saying a thing.)
Heading to the Pacific coast soon, but not before I get some Idaho trout and potatoes. Assuming they get my order correct.
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*Today's headline courtesy John Prine's song, "Ain't Hurtin' Nobody."
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Nick Roumel is a principal with Nacht & Roumel PC, a firm in Ann Arbor specializing in employment and civil right litigation. He is on Sabbatical to retrace a journey he took forty years ago. Follow his adventures at FortyYearsAcrossAmerica.blogspot.com or on Twitter @nickroumel.
Published: Thu, Nov 01, 2018
