Road Food (rant continued)

The trips is over. We're back in our own big bed. It feels wonderful.
Houston to Las Vegas; then by rental car over to Colorado to visit family,
and back to Vegas for a quick look at the casinos.



It was a good trip. We got a chance to visit kinfolks and catch up on all
the family and local news: Uncle Rex's shingles seem to be getting better.
The trailer park got bypassed by the Missionary Ridge fire. A couple of
guys moved into Mancos and set up a hair shop for women. Rex thinks they're
fairies. The twins will probably be released in November. Trixie (Jake's
oldest) has a new beau, Kyle. Kyle has figured out that the quickest way to
get into Trixie's knickers is to accept Jesus Christ as his personal savior.



Along the way, the food scene was about what you would expect:
disappointing - - with a few interesting tidbits.



Probably the best meal of the trip was at the Hogan Café in Tuba City.
Chili beans cooked up with tomatos, served over fry bread and sprinkled with
cheese and onions. I know it sounds weird, but it ate good. Downside was
that it would have paired beautifully with an ice-cold Budweiser.
Unfortunately, the rez is dry. Good place. Put it on your list: Hogan
Café in Tuba City but you might want to avoid the mutton for breakfast. It's
a little on the rank side.



The restaurant in the Ute casino down at Towaoc is always worth a visit.
Cheap, filling and tasty. Avoid the blackjack tables. As near as I can
figure . . . they have at least 5 aces per deck. When I think I have them
all accounted for, the dealer finds another one under his 8 or 9.



Durango may have a good restaurant somewhere, but we still haven't found it.
My traveling companion worked as a waitress in Durango when she was putting
herself through Fort Lewis up on the hill a whole bunch of years ago. She
said the food scene didn't amount to much back then either. BUT, (Auntie
Em - - take note) the Bar-D Chuckwagon north of town on the other side of
the Dalton Ranch Golf Course has a few things going for it. For about $20,
you get roast beef and/or chicken, a baked potato, a biscuit, applesauce,
spice cake and lemonade or coffee AND about an hour of truly hokey
entertainment by Cy, Matt, Gary and Gary (the second Gary is new this year).
The first Gary has gained a little weight. The performance isn't going to
keep you awake at 3 AM pondering its social or cultural significance. You
might want to pass on the Dalton Ranch Golf Course. It's all buggered up
with those mounds that look like moguls on a ski run. Anywhere the ball
lands, you're guaranteed to get a lie with the ball on a level six inches
above or below the soles of your shoes. Conquistador, the little local
course over at Cortez is better.



We took a couple of our kin to a place in front of the Walmart in Cortez,
the Shiloh Steakhouse. Nice setting and good service. The kids enjoyed a
couple of salmon and shrimp things and I had a little rib eye that didn't
amount to much - - - Golden Corral or Ryan's Steakhouse grade. However, as
a setting for cocktails, conversation and catching-up, the place had it
spang on.



Between the Four Corners area and Las Vegas, the food scene was pretty grim.
That part of the U.S. is our equivalent of the Rub Al Khali. The bidnesses
scattered out along the roads are multi-purpose things: gas, water,
restrooms and fast food. The scenery is kinda neat. Dramatic, wind-carved
Triassic redbeds. The novelty wears off after a couple hundred miles. Near
the Nevada border you start getting into Tertiary volcanics and broad
alluvial fans shed off of Paleozoic and pre-Cambrian highlands. Cruddy
looking.



Then, all of a sudden, WHAM . . . . . you're in Las Vegas. The place is
truly amazing. Imagine a city-sized, fantasy land and theme park designed by
Tilman Fertitta on LSD. Everything is a caricature of something else . . .
Venitian canals, an Ay-rab souk, Little Italy in New York . . . . and it's
all indoors and air-conditioned (bone-chilling) subdued twilight lighting
with no clocks or windows and the pervasive smell of cigarette smoke.



They even pretend to have some good restaurants, but the deck is stacked
against that. McCarran airport has over three and a half million people
flying in every month. That's twice the resident population of the greater
Las Vegas metropolitan area and doesn't count the weekend traffic arriving
by car from LA on weekends. Most visitors stay about three days. The
economy of the city is based on a constantly changing customer base - - fly
them in, feed, house and entertain them, then send them on their way.



The place where we were staying had a new restaurant that they were fairly
proud of - - - Bouchon. It was advertised as "Country French" . Lots of
brass and dark wood. It looked like an old-timey steak house. What made it
French was the menu. In bold print, "PROFITEROLES". In lighter print
underneath: "hot fudge sundae". The food wasn't particularly French and
not especially good . . . but made up for it by being expensive.



The "French" thing has always been a puzzle. Even in Houston, Texas, the
culinary epicenter of North America, restaurants that use tablecloths seem
to think that their popularity will take a pop if they frog-up the menu.
Outside of the Montrose, most restaurants here have pretty much the same
customers: mostly us white trash; lots of Mexicans; some Vietnamese and
occasionally a pair of stray Japs. Given this client base, a French menu
doesn't make a whole lot of sense. If the objective is cognitive
disconnect, why not try something different? Print the suckers in Basque or
Papiamentu.



Running a close second behind the French thing for customer abuse is
Adjective Overload. The shakier a chef's confidence, the higher the
adjective-to-noun ratio on the menu. For a beautifully crafted menu, check
out Snappy's in Katy: All nouns. No adjectives. "Grits . . . . .$0.99" .
If Bouchon had grits on the menu (which they don't) it would be presented
as: "GRANULATIONS. Farm grown, lye processed, stone ground, stove cooked,
hand stirred, individually ladled grits . . . $5.99". Simplicity is a
virtue. Some of us move our lips and point our fingers when we read.

Digression: One of the worst cases of menu obfuscation that I've run across
was at a place called "The Schooner" in Tofino, B.C. Wading through their
menu looking for a friendly noun to gnaw on went way beyond dodging flying
adjectives. Someone up there took a course in creative writing. The menu
posted on their website doesn't tell the whole story. The printed copies in
their restaurant compound the felony by using a font called Papyrus. Fussy.
Difficult to read. Wrong message. Papyrus is the font you would select if
you wanted to let your Honey know that your intentions were carnal but
slightly classy. Used on a menu, it implies that there is a tri-sexual
Honduran line cook in the kitchen who fancies your body. HOWEVER - - - the
Schooner's food really was damned good . . . even by Houston's demanding
standards.



Anyway . . . . . in my experience, Las Vegas's restaurants are unimpressive.
Cafeteria food with table service. Like Ensure, MREs or those freeze-dried
packets of stuff we live on in the boonies - - - if it addresses our
nutritional requirements, doesn't taste too bad and doesn't give you the
trots, it's probably as good as it's going to get.



Las Vegas is worth a visit or two. No one would go there for the food, but
the hotels, casinos and shows are fantastic. Two or three days are
enough - - - then sensory overload kicks in.

Durango may have a good restaurant somewhere, but we still haven't found it.
My traveling companion worked as a waitress in Durango when she was putting
herself through Fort Lewis up on the hill a whole bunch of years ago. She
said the food scene didn't amount to much back then either. BUT, (Auntie
Em - - take note) the Bar-D Chuckwagon north of town on the other side of
the Dalton Ranch Golf Course has a few things going for it. For about $20,
you get roast beef and/or chicken, a baked potato, a biscuit, applesauce,
spice cake and lemonade or coffee AND about an hour of truly hokey
entertainment by Cy, Matt, Gary and Gary (the second Gary is new this year).
The first Gary has gained a little weight. The performance isn't going to
keep you awake at 3 AM pondering its social or cultural significance. You
might want to pass on the Dalton Ranch Golf Course. It's all buggered up
with those mounds that look like moguls on a ski run. Anywhere the ball
lands, you're guaranteed to get a lie with the ball on a level six inches
above or below the soles of your shoes. Conquistador, the little local
course over at Cortez is better.

Couldn't agree with you more. We absolutely love the Bar-D
Chuckwagon both for the home cookin' type food and the great
entertainment. I don't know if you have seen their rendition of "Come
a little bit closer" with Cy doing his impression of a Senorita, but
my gosh, it is priceless.

As for other restaurants in Durango, we go to K-Bob's a lot because
they don't have that God-awful "lawn clippings" salad, that everybody
else seems to think is oh-so-trendy these days. I like a salad with
crunch, which is hard to find.

As for Cortez, have you tried the Drydock? We have had excellent luck
there both with food and service. The only gripe I have with the
place is that they don't have much to offer in the way of air
conditioning and a couple of times we went this summer it was too hot
to really be enjoyable. Next time you are in that neck of the woods I
would give it a try. (Side note on the Drydock. It has a "real" bar
in it - you know where people hang out, get drunk, swear, etc. NOT a
fru-fru bar like so many are now.)

Em
The first half of our lives is ruined by our parents,
and the second half by our children.
--- Clarence Darrow
(make that YOUR children).

"Bubba" wrote in message ...

Durango may have a good restaurant somewhere, but we still haven't found it.

Durango -- The city of *hate* if you are from Texas or California
(actual bumper sticker on pickup "Californicators GO HOME!").

The best thing about Durango is the beer, there are 4 different
breweries there all offering up tasty beers. If you missed those, then
you missed Durango.

_Randal