A Whole New Claw Game: Our Adventure in Not-So-Fine Dining, Part V

Well, faithful readers, our adventure officially culminated last night at the fanciest restaurant of all on this summer's journey:



Yes, Red Lobster. When I was little, Red Lobster was the height of dining sophistication for me, only visited on special occasions and only when Grandma and Grandpa were paying. I remember being fascinated by the lobster tank in the foyer, and I remember that I always ate the exact same thing each time we went: popcorn shrimp, hushpuppies, and a baked potato with butter on the side. I'm not sure if we ordered dessert there. If we did, it obviously wasn't all that memorable.

I must confess that of the five restaurants we've visited this summer, Red Lobster is the only one I've actually been to within the last 15 years. I ate at one in Omaha with my friend Amanda when we went on our Little House on the Prairie roadtrip in the summer of 2011, but I chose a healthy option like baked tilapia or something stupid like that. That was not the game plan this time around. This time, in honor of my childhood memories, I'd be enjoying a nice plate of popcorn shrimp, and it would be glorious.

Two nights ago, however, the night before the Red Lobster stop, I checked out the online menu just for kicks and had a minor panic attack when I couldn't find popcorn shrimp anywhere. By "minor panic attack" I mean that I texted my friends Karen and Holly separate but similar frantic messages before I calmed down and remembered that I had a source "on the inside," as Holly puts it. Rachel, my long-time student, is now a server at Red Lobster, and she saved the day when she told me that popcorn shrimp was still a viable option. Crisis averted.





Reassured by Rachel's intel, I went to bed with the knowledge that I would soon be enjoying some popcorn shrimp and hushpuppies. I was also looking forward to trying the cheddar biscuits which I must have eaten in 2011 but couldn't remember. I'd been told by many people that those were the highlight of any Red Lobster meal.  

My entourage for this seafood leg of the not-so-fine-dining pilgrimage was different from the Olive Garden group.  Jenny once again abandoned ship this week, though to be fair, she was starring in a dinner theatre play last night which as far as excuses go, is a fairly legitimate one. Ashlee was out of town, and Karen had out-of-town guests coming. I suppose those are also acceptable excuses. Holly was able to go, though, and we were joined by our friend and colleague Betsy. Naturally with just three people, we were unable to sample too many different food options, and let me tell you--there are MANY food options at the Red Lobster.

One of my restaurant pet peeves, incidentally, is overly-long menus. That's why I will never go back to the Cheesecake Factory, for instance. Long menus with many pages stress me out. Just give me 8-10 options, and let me choose. When I need bookmarks to remember what page something that looked good was on, I get annoyed. That's what would have happened at Red Lobster had I not already gone in knowing what I wanted to eat and had Rachel not been there to guide us--and expertly, too!--through the odyssey that was choosing an entree.

Tragedy struck, however, when Rachel broke the news that Red Lobster no longer serves hushpuppies. All I could think was, "No hushpuppies?!?!?! What kind of 'seafood' establishment is this?! What am I supposed to do--go eat at Captain D's?!  OUTRAGE." Clearly, the seafood lover in me was sorely disappointed, a sentiment I later expressed to Cassie, the very nice Red Lobster manager who came by our table to introduce herself and to say she had heard from Rachel about our dining adventures.

I eventually got over being hushpuppies-less, and we started off with the famous cheddar biscuits. Even though the reason Red Lobster no longer serves hushpuppies, according to Cassie, is that diners (who are clearly out of their minds) preferred the biscuits, I tried not to hold it against the biscuits and managed to eat two and a half of them. They were warm, light, and fluffy. When we finished the first basket, Rachel brought us out another basket and later also brought us individually-wrapped take-home biscuit bags. This was clearly VIP service.



After we scarfed down the biscuits, we moved on to our included salads. I don't know why I ordered and ate a Caesar salad since A) I don't like Caesar salad and B) this Caesar salad was on the salty side, but I did and ate the whole thing, and so did Holly. Betsy ordered the more sensible tossed salad.



Having finished my salad and bread, I personally started to feel like I had entered rough waters because it suddenly hit me that I would still have to eat an entree and a dessert--for the sake of the blog, of course--and I wasn't sure I was going to be able to do it because I was pretty much already full. But then I remembered the wise words of my other friend Amanda, who lives near the Ryan's that we went to in Kentucky, and decided to believe in myself.

Our entrees arrived. I had ordered the "Shrimp Your Way" which offers two or three shrimp options. I chose two options, except Rachel allowed me to double up on popcorn shrimp, so I got a LOT of popcorn shrimp and a baked potato. It was yummy. I was able to save half the shrimp for dinner tonight, too, so that's good.



Holly ordered flounder and coconut-crusted shrimp that comes with a piña colada dipping sauce. She said it was delicious. I tasted one of the shrimp, and I concurred.



Betsy ordered fried shrimp and coconut-crusted shrimp bites. She was also a fan.



As I look at these pictures, the portion sizes don't seem all that equitable. Either popcorn shrimp is a lot cheaper than specialty shrimp so they can pile it on the plate, or Cassie and Rachel hooked me up. In any event, even though we were all feeling stuffed by then, we still had to order dessert.

Since none of us could remember Red Lobster desserts and weren't emotionally attached to anything specific, we decided we would each order something different. Holly got the key lime pie. She loved it.



 Betsy ordered the chocolate chip lava cookie after I basically pressured her into choosing that because even though I wanted something else, I wanted to experience it vicariously through her.
It was also served warm with a scoop of ice cream, and Betsy let me keep some of our leftover cookie which I'll be eating later.



As for me, I didn't know what I wanted because several options looked good. I asked Rachel to recommend something, and she suggested the Chocolate Wave Cake which she described as "warm chocolate layer cake with chocolate chips and a scoop of ice cream"--i.e., heaven. Reader, I ordered it.


 And OH MY GOODNESS, it was SO GOOD. It honestly gives the Shoney's Hot Fudge Cake a run for its money. I know that's almost blasphemy to say, but it's the truth. And even better, I was so full that I ate only a fourth of it, so the rest is sitting in my fridge as I type this blog. I'm not going to lie--I'm pretty excited about that.

Thanks for coming along on the super fun ride and reading all about our visits not just to Red Lobster, but to Olive Garden, Picadilly Cafeteria, Ryan's, and Shoney's. We may hit up a few more old school places like an eat-in Pizza Hut or a Mexican place Holly and Jenny used to eat at called El Chico's, but I'm making no promises right now because I'm still digesting popcorn shrimp.

You know those Berenstain Bears books that have titles like The Berenstain Bears and Too Much TV or The Berenstain Bears and Too Much Birthday? Well, after Red Lobstering last night, I feel like I'm in my very own Berenstain Bears book: The Berenstain Bears and Too Much Fried Food. I need detox, stat!

But hey, if you're wondering, yes, I do think I'd go back to Red Lobster, especially since I forgot to use the coupons my mom had given me, something she's sure to berate me for as soon as she reads this blog. For now, though, all I can say is thanks again for reading the blog, and stick a fork in me--I'm done.

I'll leave you, however, with one last claw game. This one is legit:


Oh, and if you're in the Cool Springs area, be sure to ask for Rachel to be your server, and she'll let you win a nice prize from the tank. And we're not talking about some stuffed toy from Shoney's; we're talking about a red lobster from Red Lobster. You'll probably need more than a quarter to play, though.

Scenes From an Italian Restaurant: Our Adventure in Not-So-Fine Dining, Part IV

For the fourth and possibly penultimate leg of our food journey, we went to Spring Hill last night to have dinner at a table near the street at an old familiar place: the Olive Garden.



OK, in the interest of journalistic integrity, I'll admit that the table was not actually near the street; it was near the kitchen. And the decor is so different and the table-side payment method so high-tech that it wasn't all that familiar either.



I'll also admit that at least two of the members of our four-person party (Holly and Ashlee) had eaten at that very same Olive Garden within the past year or so, so we were technically breaking one of our original rules for choosing restaurants. Holly last ate there with some colleagues; Ashlee last ate there with some Civil War reenactors. True story.

Our third member of the dining party, Karen, had an interesting Olive Garden connection, of the non-Civil War variety. When she and her husband were in college, he used to be an Olive Garden server, so she'd eat there all the time, enjoying special perks like getting extra breadsticks to take home or getting lunch portions during dinner time. But then when he quit working there, they never went back--and it's a good thing, too, because another "perk" apparently involved "borrowing" the famed 3-pronged forks that they still use at home today (!!).

My story is far less interesting (and far less illegal). I used to eat at the Olive Garden in Knoxville in my high school days until my dad got grossed out by the lack of cleanliness one day when he saw busboys using dirty rags to wipe down booths while leaving all kinds of food particles on the carpet. We never went back.

Though I did go back to Olive Garden myself a few times when I was in college, like Karen, I hadn't been there since then, so we were eager to see if the food would taste the same as it did back in the day.

We began, as one does at the Olive Garden, with the salad and breadsticks.  They used to be unlimited; I think they probably still are, but we were not asked if we wanted more salad. Both tasted exactly the same as they always did, though the salad was a bit under-dressed, kind of like the large tank-top-wearing guy sitting at the next table, as Ashlee pointed out. (Fashion side-bar: I saw lots of tank tops on men, baseball caps, and beachwear last night. Frankly, people were better dressed at Shoney's).


Apparently, no recent dining experience would be complete without my making some sort of faux pas. As I started eating my salad last night, Holly pointed out that it was classy of Olive Garden to bring us chilled plates for the salad and warm plates for the bread. Um, what? I hadn't realized there was a difference and thought the bottom plate was decorative; I guess I'm not classy enough for Olive Garden! But hey, at least I wasn't wearing a baseball cap.



One thing of note is that--appalling wardrobe choices of the clientele notwithstanding--another way we knew Olive Garden was classier than a Piccadilly Cafeteria, for instance, is that at Olive Garden we could have ordered wine. And in fact, the menu offered pairing suggestions for anyone looking to be extra fancy.



We opted for water, but it was still nice to know that we did have other choices. We then sat and waited for our entrees to arrive. We'd decided that we would each try to order something different for the sake of the blog. I ordered chicken parmigiana with broccoli because that's what I always used to eat there.

 

Karen ordered the chicken and shrimp carbonara.




Holly got the Northern Tour of Italy, which included Chicken Lombardy, some sort of sausage tortelloni, and a mushroom pasta.



Ashlee got shrimp scampi.

 

Unfortunately, Ashlee didn't realize that she was ordering from the "light" menu, so her shrimp scampi was not swimming in butter and garlic as she had anticipated, but instead was rather insipid. She was disappointed. Karen was also a little disappointed in her entree until at the very end, she discovered the bacon that had been buried underneath a piece of chicken in the middle of the plate. Holly rather liked her Northern Tour of Italy. My chicken tasted the same as I remembered: good, but not the best chicken parm I've ever had. My broccoli, however, was...rancid.



Fortunately our server was very nice about it once I complained. She asked if I wanted another vegetable, but I'm a once-bitten, twice-shy kind of person, so I got a side of spaghetti. It was watery but edible.

Though I was dissatisfied with the spaghetti and disgusted by the rotten vegetable side, I managed to ignore the fact that it was still sitting on my plate, and did eat half my chicken, saving the other half for leftovers. I had to make room for dessert, after all.

So for dessert, Karen, Ashlee, and I each ordered the Black Tie Mousse Cake which now comes with an additional layer of some sort of white custard. Holly ordered some dolcini, mini-mousse desserts.



The desserts were quite good--the black tie cake tasted basically the same--, but once again, nothing has been able to compete yet with the hot fudge cake at Shoney's. Like, nothing has even been in the same league as that dessert. Perhaps nothing ever will be.

No claw game this week. We did have the option to play trivia at our table using the high-tech table-side gadget, but we weren't willing to pay $1.99 for that privilege. Speaking of money, at $29.00, Olive Garden was definitely the priciest restaurant so far on the adventure; no offense to any Olive Garden aficionados out there, but it's a bit steep for marginally good cuisine.

That having been said, I will add that I'm glad I went back to the Olive Garden because it was nice to reminisce. Based on the quality of our dinner, however, I doubt I'll return unless I'm writing another food blog 15 years from now or unless I'm traveling and it's the only restaurant in town or unless I randomly fall in with a group of Civil War reenactors who are willing to forgo historical accuracy for some fettuccine alfredo. I'm sure stranger things have happened.

Next stop: Red Lobster.

Going Old School: Our Adventure in Not-So-Fine Dining, Part III

You know how most people hate cafeteria food? Well, I'm not one of those people. In fact, I've eaten in cafeterias pretty regularly my whole life and have fond memories of all the non-K-12 cafeterias in which I've dined, from Morrison's Cafeteria where we used to go with my grandparents, to Rafters Cafeteria on UT Knoxville's campus where we'd eat dinner sometimes if my dad had a late meeting, to Wright's Cafeteria and Ramsey's Cafeteria and even S&S where we'd occasionally have dinner.

I don't know if it's a Tennessee thing or not, but as it turns out, I learned recently that Jenny and Holly, my partners-in-dine, also love a good cafeteria meal. Jenny spent weekends in her Nashville childhood eating at some of the same cafeterias I've listed and at the Bison Room, on David Lipscomb's campus. Holly, who grew up in Memphis, was also known to frequent S&S and Morrison's. I'll also mention because it's noteworthy (read: WEIRD) that both Holly and our friend Lindsay who's from Maryville, TN told me that they knew people who'd eat in the local hospital cafeteria, not because they knew anyone staying in the hospital, but because the cafeteria was so conveniently located.

Last night, for our third trip down Memory Lane, I guess you could say it was our destiny to eat at a cafeteria, so we went to the only existing cafeteria we could find: Piccadilly Cafeteria, deep in the heart of a somewhat shady part of town with a lot of hourly motels in close proximity. 

We'd originally planned to get there at 7 so that we wouldn't hit Nashville traffic during rush hour, but when I was researching the menu, I noticed that Piccadilly closes at 8. Yes, 8 PM. Though I was a bit surprised initially, I soon figured that the average Piccadilly diner probably eats dinner around 4:30 or 5. And by "average," I mean people whose median age is likely 65+. No offense to any AARP members reading this blog, but seriously:




Anyway, we arrived at 6:30 instead, and the place was not exactly "jumping," to borrow an expression from Jenny (and my dad), but the few people scattered around the dining hall seemed to be eating with gusto. So I whipped out my phone to document the adventure and led the charge to the trays.




Jenny, Holly, and I not only grew up eating in cafeterias, but we do still eat every day in a cafeteria during the school year, so we're pretty much cafeteria connoisseurs. Thus, you won't be surprised to learn that I didn't have to ask for instructions on the Piccadilly protocol. (Well, actually, I did have to ask where the line started, but that question doesn't count because I asked Jenny and not an actual worker). So we each grabbed a tray and then got to choose a salad, an entree, a vegetable, and a bread OR an entree, two vegetables, and a bread. Dessert was a separate charge. It was honestly hard to decide because everything looked fresh and good.

There was pecan-crusted chicken, chicken tenders, fried chicken, sausage, red beans and rice, fried fish, country-fried steak, and chicken and dumplings. The vegetables I can remember were brussels sprouts, broccoli, corn, cabbage, and collard greens. They had other sides like macaroni and cheese, mashed potatoes, broccoli rice casserole, and scalloped potatoes. There were four or five kinds of bread, lots of pies, and some cakes. After making some tough decisions, we loaded up our trays and paid for our meals--$12 per person.

I was first through the line, so I walked through the dining room to find a table; it was huge dining room with many, many empty tables because I mean, we were practically eating at midnight CST (Cafeteria Standard Time). Just like at Ryan's and at Shoney's, as I looked around to find the best place to sit, it felt once again like entering a different dimension. The floral carpet was straight out of the 80's, the plain brown tables and chairs all had wheels on them, and there were fake flowers everywhere.

When I chose a table and sat down, a very nice Piccadilly's worker came up to me immediately to ask if she could get me anything and then added, "Are you eating alone, honey?" She seemed genuinely concerned for me until I assured her that my friends were right behind me. The interesting thing is that there were several people probably in their 40's or early 50's eating alone at Piccadilly; maybe they were in town on business. I hope so because otherwise, that just seems really sad, like there's some lonely cafeteria subculture I know nothing about--and hope never to know anything about.

Anyway, here's what we ended up with on our respective trays. I got fried chicken, mac and cheese, broccoli, bread, and red velvet cake:



Jenny got fried fish, mac and cheese, fried okra, and coconut cream pie:

 

Holly got pecan-crusted chicken (her regular Piccadilly entree as a kid), a veggie rice casserole, corn, and what looked like key lime pie but ended up being cheesecake:

 

 

Now after our disappointing trip to Ryan's, we didn't have great expectations for this cafeteria meal even though the food had looked rather appetizing on the line. Well, we were VERY pleasantly surprised because everything was delicious. My fried chicken was super crunchy and not greasy; Jenny felt the same way about her fried fish and fried okra; Holly's chicken was great. The accompanying food was good, too. The desserts weren't as impressive as the rest of the meal, but we still enjoyed them. I would go back to Piccadilly if I were ever in the area and would recommend it to anyone who wants some good southern food with some nostalgia served on the side.

Next week we're going a bit more "upscale"; we're heading to the Olive Garden. I have to say, though, that while I'm definitely curious to see if the salad and breadsticks are as good as I remember, to be honest, I think I'm going to miss the trays.  And of course, I'm going to miss this:

Not All Roads Lead to Ryan's: Our Adventure in Not-So-Fine Dining, Part II

For the second stop on our food adventure, we took a road trip yesterday to Ryan's Steakhouse. By road trip, I mean we drove 50 minutes through three towns and one city, almost reaching the Kentucky border just to get to the closest Ryan's--that's how high our level of commitment is, people.

For anyone who's not familiar with Ryan's Steakhouse, as it was called back in my Ryan's heyday when I was in high school, here's how I remembered the Ryan's Experience: you'd go in and stand in line and order from among the different steak options featured in the pictorial menu above the cash registers. Though the steaks would be brought to your table, everything else--from salads to sides to desserts--was served buffet-style.

I have some good and not-so-good memories of eating at Ryan's. I used to enjoy eating a nice medium rare 6 oz. sirloin with a baked potato and assorted sides. My mom used to enjoy loading up her purse with yeast rolls so that they "wouldn't go to waste." My sister used to enjoy eating the soft-serve ice cream until the day she noticed bats hanging from the eaves outside the window. And because she pitched a fit from that point on any time any of us wanted to go eat there, I never went back.

Until last night.



You'll notice from the sign that Ryan's Steakhouse is now Ryan's Grill, Buffet, and Bakery. That was our first indication that our trip down memory lane was about to hit a few detours. When we walked in, I expected to see the illuminated pictures of the various steak options, but nope, those were nowhere to be found. We were greeted by Sam, a very nice girl working the cash register, who of course had to explain the Ryan's procedures to me because I was thrown by the lack of steak photos. Sam assured me that I could still eat steak but that it, too, was now served buffet-style at the "carvery" station. Slightly skeptical about the quality of steak on a buffet, I was nonetheless determined to be a good sport. And I continued to be a good sport even when, as Sam was handing me my change, she said, "I apologize. I'm giving you a very questionably moist $5 bill." (That's a direct quote, by the way. I wrote it down so that I could include it verbatim in this blog. You're welcome.)

So here's the thing. I wouldn't say I'm a total germaphobe, though I do keep giant bottles of Germ-X in my car and in my classroom to hand sanitize every chance I get, but I will admit that the idea of the "questionably moist" money that had touched my hand coupled with the idea of handling serving utensils on the buffet that had been touched by lots of other people did affect my enjoyment of my Ryan's experience, but don't worry--I soldiered on.



On our first pass through the buffet, I made my faux pas of the evening when I carved my own piece of steak. I didn't realize that the one element of classiness at Ryan's is that there are professional carvers who will serve your steak when you come up to the buffet. As it so happens, the carver had stepped away from the station when I got there and wasn't pleased that I had appropriated his carving knife. Oops. In any event, he did carve steak for Jenny and offered to carve some for Holly, our other dining companion, after telling her it was "unicorn meat." Idk. Holly opted for the ham. 




The sides were not great, other than the yeast rolls, the corn, and the cornbread. I also enjoyed the broccoli because it was way overcooked, just how I like it. We all agreed that the popcorn shrimp was too salty. Holly really liked her ham. My steak was exactly what steak served on a buffet would be: overcooked and a little tough. But when your entire meal costs $11.99, can you really expect anything better?



Then, as you do at an all-you-can-eat buffet, we went back for round 2. I got more cornbread, which for me was the best part of the whole meal, and a piece of sausage. Jenny got an entirely new meal.



She said the fried chicken was good.

After round 2, we were pretty much done. None of us partook of the Mexican bar (which didn't used to exist), the barbecue options, the soups, or the food that looked vaguely Chinese. We just couldn't eat that much; besides, we had to save room for dessert.

The dessert bar had several options. Though Jenny and Holly made the wise decision to go directly for the soft-serve ice cream, I initially took what I thought was a ramekin of hot apple cobbler and topped it with the soft-serve ice cream, and I also took a carrot cake to taste. I took one small bite of that carrot cake before determining that it was the worst carrot cake I had ever tasted and then took a bite of my apple cobbler before realizing that it was peach cobbler which I don't like. So I ended up abandoning both desserts and just getting some ice cream. It was no hot fudge cake from Shoney's, but it was pretty good.




When I told one of my students the other day that we were going to Ryan's, he said, "Oh, I threw up there!" I wouldn't go that far, but it's not likely that I'll ever go back to Ryan's. The food was just not that good, certainly not worth a 50-minute drive. What was worth the drive, though, was the opportunity to be in a different environment from the one I'm in on a daily basis. Indeed, the most interesting part of the eating at Ryan's was actually the racial and ethnic diversity of our fellow diners. It made me realize just how little diversity there is where we live, something the three of us noted last night. In the end, then,  I'm glad we made the trek.

Stay tuned for the next blog installment. We figured that Ryan's was our one "steakhouse" stop, our stand-in for all the Bonanzas, Ponderosas, Western Sizzlins', and Golden Corrals out there. We think we might be headed to Piccadilly's Cafeteria next because we apparently don't get to eat often enough in a cafeteria. Feel free to join us!

In the meantime, we really should probably start stocking up on quarters--of the unquestionably dry variety, of course.

Still Shoney After All These Years: Our Adventure in Not-So-Fine Dining, Part I

Several weeks ago, a few of my colleagues and I began reminiscing about what it meant to go out to eat at a restaurant when we were little. For most of us, dining out was something we did maybe once a week. When I said that my family used to go to Shoney's every Friday, I added that I could still remember the Hot Fudge Cake my dad and I loved, and I soon realized I was not alone in that love for the long-forgotten tiered dessert. And suddenly a plan was born: we would go eat at Shoney's to see if the Hot Fudge Cake was just as good now as it had been 30 years ago.

And then, like all best plans ever made sometimes do, it started to grow. We wouldn't just go to Shoney's, but we'd go to other restaurants from our youth that we'd outgrown. We started throwing names out there, trying to build a solid list--everything from the now-defunct Western Sizzlin' and Morrison's Cafeteria to places that still exist but that we haven't gone to in many years like Ryan's Steakhouse or Bob Evans. We even added a few "upscale" places like Red Lobster and Olive Garden. Our criteria ended up being pretty loose, but we came up with the following parameters: 1. restaurants that we haven't been to in over 15 years, 2. restaurants that include salad with their entrees, and 3. restaurants where my dad would refuse to eat because they'd gross him out.

Jenny, my sidekick in this great adventure, and I decided that our first stop would naturally have to be Shoney's, and so tonight, that's where we went. Though Shoney's was a part of my life for several years when my parents couldn't afford anything fancier, the last time I had dinner at Shoney's was probably when I was 9 or 10 years old, so I had no idea what to expect. What I can tell you is that walking into the Shoney's was like going back in time to a land of naugahyde booths and well-stocked salad bars.



We were seated by a very nice host in a less-than-ideal booth, right by the kitchen. Had we been in any of the restaurants I normally go to, I would have asked to be seated elsewhere because my feeling is that if I'm going to pay $25+ for an entree, I have a right to ask not to be seated near the bathroom or the kitchen. But when in Shoney's, I figured, you do as the Shoneyans do and sit wherever they tell you to. I was just trying to blend.


I'm not gonna lie--we were blending pretty well because when our waitress took our drink orders, she asked, "Are you ready to order?" without having given us time to even open our menus, a question which suggested she thought we were regulars. Now, Jenny and I had already pre-planned our meals, but we didn't want to seem overzealous, so we asked for a few minutes. We then spent those few minutes taking surreptitious photos documenting the fact that WE WERE IN SHONEY'S.



Then we ordered. Jenny ordered the Great American Burger, and I ordered the Italian Feast (baked spaghetti with grilled chicken). My entree came with a salad bar, of course, so I got up--after giving Jenny my purse for safekeeping because I think I was unfairly stereotyping Shoney's as someplace where I might actually have my purse stolen. Idk. It wasn't my finest 15 seconds--and approached the bar.

And this is the point in the tale where the blending ended. Entering the salad bar area of the restaurant, I was like a stranger in a strange land. First of all, the salad bar was kind of hard to navigate because the first thing I saw on the bar was fried chicken, like not cut up into little pieces to put on top of a salad but like legit fried chicken. Then I saw foods like macaroni and cheese, collard greens, chicken and dumplings, and mashed potatoes. I was confused. Were these foods part of my dinner salad, or were they not included? There were no signs. To make matters worse, I didn't quite understand the layout of the salad bar. It's basically two long bars with a median aisle between them which I thought was a convenient way to avoid having to reach for things. It was only when the busboy kindly but pointedly told me that the median was off-limits to diners that I understood my faux pas. The salad bar was way too stressful, and I didn't even eat my salad because I remembered too late that I hate iceberg lettuce. Live and learn.

The second low point of the evening came when our entrees arrived minus the little American flag on Jenny's Great American Burger which was kind of the whole reason she'd ordered the burger in the first place. We asked our server for a flag, but apparently Shoney's was out of tiny American flags (?!?!).



Despite the lack of patriotic burger accoutrements, I'm happy to report that Jenny enjoyed her burger and steak fries very much; the burger has been upgraded over the last 30 years because it looked and tasted like a burger you'd eat at a much more expensive restaurant.

My Italian feast was, honestly, delicious. I ate every last bite of it. It was well seasoned, had just the right amount of melted cheese on it that had crusted on the edges like a lasagna, and came with some very good garlic bread.

 

Of course, then came the big moment: ordering the World Famous Hot Fudge Cake. For some crazy reason, Jenny asked if I wanted to share. Um, I did not. So we each ordered our own, and we're glad we did because it was too good to eat only half of one. Eating that cake was glorious. It tasted EXACTLY the way it did when I was a kid. It's the perfect blend of warm chocolate cake, cold vanilla ice cream, and decadent hot fudge sauce that mixes perfectly with the whipped cream on top.



When our waitress brought our bills, we put our credit cards on the table and just sat there gushing over how good our entire meal had been (included salad bar not included). And we sat there...and sat there...until we realized that our waitress was not coming to get our cards and that at Shoney's you pay at the cash register. So that was different. Again, live and learn.

Incidentally, here's a fun fact for anyone like us who hasn't been to Shoney's in a long time: you can play the claw game after you pay at the cash register.



And another fun fact: some people arrive at Shoney's in style:



Well, that about does it for my first blog post for the summer. Our next stop is likely the Golden Corral, so if any of you locals out there want to join us for Sunday Supper, let me know--the more, the merrier!