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Wednesday, April 10, 2013

Whadaya eatin'?

With my ice coffee sitting here waiting to be slurped and my Ranch dressing just made getting thicker in the refrig, I was thinking about how hard it is to come up with things to fix for dinner around this time of year.  It's technically Spring, but one minute it's hot and the next minute it's freezing.  Dang...dinner is hard enough without all the yo-yo-ing back and forth.  I try to switch things up around here but I can only go the meatless route so often to shake things up before someone around here starts yelling "where's the beef."  Specifically, tonight's beef is going to be a steak salad with the sliced chilled steak on the top.  I do the old timey Ranch DIY dressing because 1) it tastes better than that bottled junk 2) it's on the South Beach diet and while we aren't doing SB, I tell myself we are 3) it's a nice change of pace and kind of summery.

The good news is, my partner will eat anything (remember, he ate a squirrel once) so that does make things easier.  I'm the one that gets bored and, dare I admit, lazy.  There.  I said it.  And, yes, I am well versed in the art of picking up dinner elsewhere, God rest Brother's Chicken chicken fryin' soul.  That was one of the few places I could get Bruce to stop by on his way home and pick up dinner.  Never mind you needed your concealed weapon permit in order to go there--even for the drive through.  I figured if he was gonna die, Brother's Chicken was as good a place as any.  Just let me eat my chicken first, then you can shoot him.  :)))) 

Brother's used to load up your order and put it all a brown paper bag with sliced pickles that would leak on the sack every time, and by the time you got home, the sack also had a matching grease mark from the chicken.  The also threw in slices of white Wonder bread.  I guess that was to absorb the grease once you ate the chicken.  Better the white bread than your arteries.  I don't think that sack ever made it all the way home that Bruce didn't eat at least one piece of chicken and about half of the fries.  He'd always try to lie his way out but the grease on his face gave him away every time. 

I know Brother's used to have a North Dallas location--maybe they still do-- but I just can't see myself going there.  It's just wouldn't be the same.  No bars on the windows, no sketchy types hanging 'round drinking out of their paper bags, none of the local color.

Good fried knows no season.

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