Wednesday, May 28, 2014

"I'd eat that off a flip flop!"

Imagine that, I went on vacation for a few days, came home, and suddenly my damn pants don't fit!  I'm sure it had nothing to do with the fact that I ate like a champion for four days.  Not that I don't eat well in Minnesota - I wouldn't have a food blog or a potbelly if I didn't - but something about being out of my element just made everything taste better.  I tend to get stuck in a food rut on occasion, so  taking a road trip to Kansas City was a great way to experience something new with the same old guy.  I already told you about our amazing experience at Alba in Des Moines, so let's pick up where we left off.

The hotel didn't provide a free continental breakfast (cheap bastards), so we set off on our journey, hoping to find a sweet little dive bar, because dive bars have the best greasy food, and that's what we wanted.  Well folks, our dumb asses should have consulted Google Maps, because after an hour of driving we'd found nothing except Casey's General Store and roadkill, and I'm not a fan of either.  Thankfully Casey's did sell Snickers, which was a relief because I have no idea how to cook a skunk carcass on the hood of a car, nor do I want to find out.  We did happen upon a family restaurant whimsically dubbed "The Toot Toot" (no, seriously) (Iowa, am I right?), but family restaurants in general kind of give me the heebs.  Also, as funny as I think farts are (on a scale of one to ten they are HILARIOUS), I just couldn't deal with that;

We pressed on and eventually stopped in Kearney, MO, birthplace of Jesse James (please be aware this will be the only time you learn something in this blog).  Kearney is a lovely town with twee shops and you can park your car in a spot right on the street.  We stopped in at Fatboyz, because anyplace with a Z instead of S has to be good, right?  Hell yeah that's right!  It was everything a good dive should be - strong drinks, a hint of secondhand smoke in the air, and deep fried goodness.  This is how I was introduced to the corn nugget.  I mean, hello, cornbread made with whole kernels of corn, fried to a crisp?  Don't get me wrong, I love cheese curds and all their melty fabulousness, but these were just stupid good.

Speaking of stupid, three hours in the car and three cocktails later left me wiped out.  I'm not much of a nightlife gal as it is, so I was perfectly happy to park my kiester on the bed and watch TV while Noah picked up dinner.  And what was for dinner, you ask?  Jack Stack Barbecue.  My brother-in-law John wanted me to blog about how the barbecue was down there compared to Spitfire in Fargo, and for the love of God I hope they don't ban me for life for saying this, but there's just no comparison.  My baby back ribs were perfect, and I've enjoyed myself some good ribs in my day courtesy of Noah (Famous Dave's is ass) (RIP Famous Dave).  It's been a while since I had ribs at Spitfire, but it wouldn't change my opinion because Jack Stack was AMAZING.  The meat was incredibly tender, the sauce was sweet without being cloying, and WHOA NELLIE I can't believe I haven't mentioned the beans yet!  Bush's can come up with all the new varieties they want and try to use that ridiculous talking dog to sell them, but no.  I honestly can't tell you what made them so good.  All I know is if I exclaimed, "Oh my God!  The BEANS!" one more time I likely would have been smothered with a downy hotel pillow.

Part of me feels like I should have a sign off line a la Guy Fieri.  Part of me also thinks nobody should imitate someone who looks like they have an albino porcupine on their head.  Winner winner chicken dinner!

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