Wednesday when we drove north to Muscle Shoals, we had lunch at a restaurant that is a favorite of the locals. The menu is eclectic. They are known for chicken, but they have all kinds of food.
Jilda ordered tamales and she grunted with pleasure all through lunch. Max ordered the catfish, and Jerry ordered chicken soup. But I ordered fried chicken.
It's one of those places that doesn't try to appeal to the health conscience. They make no excuse, but they do make some of the best fried chicken I've had since Jilda's mama died.
This chicken was unlike the fast food fried chicken because it didn't sit heavy. It hadn't been sitting under a sunlamp either. After ordering, it took a while for the waitress to bring to the table.
Jerry, who is a regular said, "Y'all must have ordered the chicken." He knew that they fry it when you order it.
We eat very little fried food. Most of what we eat tastes good and nutritious. That's because Jilda cooks most every day. Sometimes on Thursdays, I pick up Chinese food because she works late. But other than that, she prepares what we eat.
My recommendation to you is this: Find yourself a roadhouse outside the city limits. You'll know when you find it because they need police to control traffic in and out of the parking lot. Sit down by a window, and ask the waitress what dishes they're known for. And be prepared to be amazed.
|Champy's Yard Art|