A DINING TALE
After eleven hours in the saddle I was pretty weary. The trouble was I had started out that way and stopped at King services on Highway 400 tired enough I took a 30 minute doze. Just 90 minutes drive out. Not an auspicious start to the day to what would be a long day.
We arrived in Goshen, IN and very quickly we realized that all the talk of the Amish going about their daily lives using horsepower of the four legged variety is absolutely correct. Hitching rails in all the car parks with plenty of them being used by the trap ponies and little wagons. I told Ben they were “good, very nice horses” and thank goodness he believed me and shut up. Normally he sees all horses as terribly untidy and is desperate to get out there and arrange them in a manner only a border collie would understand.
I decided that if I had steak for dinner I could probably wrap a little and use it to make Ben’s kibble more interesting for him. I headed out of the hotel and toward the bright lights. If these are the bright lights so oft reported from near death experiences I would definitely want to head back to Earth. So there were a couple of biggish malls and all the usual fast food - but I wanted something more sustaining and hopefully healthier to boot. I had seen a Ponderosa Steakhouse before but never been inside. It was quite a large establishment but the parking was easy, what I did not realize at this point was that by 7.30pm the average Ponderosa customer is probably back home in front of the TV watching The Biggest Loser or some such educational documentary while tucking into a half gallon of his favourite ice cream.
Beaten to the door by a 450 pound gentlemen I was surprised when he then opened the door and bade me go first. That turned out to be a really stupid move - I no longer had a straight shot at the escape route. Do you remember when restaurants, British Rail waiting rooms and pubs allowed smoking? Recall that particular colouring that covered the walls and ceiling, a sort of dark cream that darkened in the corners and higher elevations. Flashback time - the cream was banded by green stripes and the wall sported weary art as random and as pretty as a teen with a very bad case of acne. The Christmas decorations were not likely to cheer things up too much and they did not disappoint. One strand of well worn tinsel in a rose blush that was probably vermillion in its youth loped weakly from one hanging plastic flower to another. The centrepiece was a display of at least six balloons over the illuminated “Hot Soup” sign. They had probably been inflated by an outside contractor, nobody on staff looked like they could manage it.
I negotiated the long lining up zone with an increasing sense of despair. Mr 450 did not want his progress toward nosh nirvana slowed and so I surged along - mostly on a tide of his gastronomic anticipation. Things suddenly got worse, halfway along otherwise empty line up zone was a VERY large and illuminated menu board - with pictures to help show the finer points of difference between a chopped steak and a prime rib. According to the photographer that chronicled this tempting array, not much. At the end of the line up zone, before one turned right to enter the dining establishment proper was another illuminated picture menu. I have made a point of never eating in a restaurant that relies on photos - save the odd Japanese. This did not feel a particularly good time to break the habit of a lifetime but I made a spur of the moment decision to go ahead with it. The barrelling tidal wave of flesh on my heels had may have had something to do with my decision making process….
Turn right and there is the hostess at a lectern with - yes, another large photo menu on the wall. And now it gets a bit peculiar. One points at the menu, states “buffet” or ‘no buffet” and peruses the wine list which has both sweet and dry iced tea on tap. OK, I point at one of the most expensive steaks thinking that to choose a cheap steak here would be to miss the point. I was now on a voyage of discovery. Baked potato, unsweetened ice tea, no dessert. “Buffett?”, ‘oh yes please, I guess it is a salad bar?’. “Yeh there is some salad, hot stuff too”. “Well for $2 that has to be a bargain, I’ll have buffet too” “Tip” ‘I beg your pardon?” “sigh, you pay me now and I make the tip from change and you put it on the table” ‘Make it $2’ Apparently that is 100% more than is usually donated. But hey this is a voyage of discovery, maybe a big tip will lead to some interesting tidbits.
I make my way to my well scrubbed table. Well scrubbed as in for 25 years with a very interesting patina. Spiky waitress/cleaning lady - she was doing double duty - snatched up my till receipt and says she will be back with my tea. Have you ever been to a salad bar that was monochrome - well I have. Each serving bowl was filled to the brim with different shaped lumps all of which were covered in a layer of mayonnaise that I realize is also used to paint the corners and higher elevations of the dining room. Avoiding that leaves me with a choice of limp shredded lettuce or a fresh salad of apples and raisins. Actually edible. The hot items were the same colour as the cold mayo items and with my “Ontario Food Handler” certification hat on I deemed to be not nearly hot enough to be kept for more than 20 minutes. Coated chicken in a beige sauce, coated chicken with no sauce, chicken with a sort of dumpling on top swimming in beige sauce, meatloaf too pale to be meat, chilli. Quite the bargain if you want to try the efficacy of Immodium for just $2.
The steak arrived and I did suppress a chuckle when asked if I wanted to cut it to check doneness. When asked by the hostess/order taker/money changer how my steak should be cooked I was already in self preservation mode. “Crispy” I lied. Well steak flipper had followed my instructions so the cutting was more like breaking a communion wafer - but there was no way even one E-coli could have survived that thermonuclear onslaught. The baked potato was very good. Sneaking out indecently early I now understood why one has to pay BEFORE going in! I took nothing from the buffet for Ben, he had done nothing nearly bad enough to deserve it.
You know that Christmas game where you pass the parcel and the loser has to open it? Well I think I have the perfect gift - a Ponderosa gift card with no expiry date.
So there you have it, my once in a lifetime dining experience.