Try as I may, I can’t remember the last time I had fun eating lunch in a restaurant. But that’s exactly what happened the other day. The name and location of this pace will remain only with me. Suffice it to say that it was close to Texas. The owner/proprietor certainly confirmed that geography – his speech was filled with “y’all” and his pace was Southern slow.

But this was a memorable combination cowboy boutique, feed store, antique shop, and bbq restaurant. Signs and license plates covered the upper walls while the lower walls contained thousands of patron autographs and initials. The unisex restroom walls were decorated with the usual bad bathroom jokes and a “no dumping” sign.

They were quite proud of their limited menu. Locals or tourists must have gotten the message because the diners kept coming into the space, one after another.

Wares were a combination of southwestern, chic. Large straw cowboy hats shared space with plastic turquoise, tee shirts, and comic boxer shorts. While I didn’t buy anything, I felt that I should, if only to keep this touch of pure Americana in business.

The best summary about this fabulous venue was their complaint department sign. It boasted, “For all complaints, push the red button.” There was indeed a red button, prominently placed inside a bear trap. No matter what, I can’t imagine anyone having any complaints. The food was tasty, reasonably priced, and dripping with charm.

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