We had lunch today at a Chinese restaurant that a friend recommended.
She’s a smart woman, a trained professional with three diplomas hanging on her office wall. You’d think her culinary opinion could be trusted.
Nope.
The door was wide open, the air conditioning was off, the place was full of flies and the food was hopelessly bland. And my fortune cookie informed me, “It is a sunny day.” No shit. We’ll not go back.
Finding an eatery that can light up our taste buds around here is akin to questing for the Holy Grail. And with only one or two exceptions, we’ve hated every place a local person has recommended. There is apparently a big difference between a Hoosier palate and an Arkie palate.
Oh, what we’d give for a Hoosier style breaded tenderloin at Creekside in Crawfordsville,Ind., or an Ambrosia burger at Nepenthe in Big Sur. Or hot cherry pie with a couple of scoops of vanilla ice cream at the Cherry Hut in Beaulah, Mich. Or just about anything from Buca di Beppo.
Ain’t nothin’ here but brown fried food.
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