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Tio Wally Eats America: Noel, Missouri, Rio Grande Mexican Restaurant

I’m happy to have Tio Wally (long-time Me So Hungry reader) aboard to send in his eating adventures from across America. Here he is in Noel, Missouri.

Greetings from Noel, Missouri
N 36° 32.7378′, W 094° 29.113′  Elev. 817 ft.

The road into Noel is a narrow, winding, hilly two-lane highway. As I sailed in I kept saying, “I’d sure hate to drive a big-ass truck on this road.” It turned out I should’ve been saying, “I sure hope I can find a decent breakfast.”

Noel (pronounced knoll, with the emphasis on NO) is tucked in the far southwest corner of the southwesternmost corner of Missouri. It’s a remarkably beautiful place.

It claims to be the “Canoe Capitol of the Ozarks.” If the sheer number of canoes I saw being hauled around by the canoe rental folks is any indication, it’s true. Hell, I’d venture to guess that if you set every canoe in Noel end-to-end they would reach the Gateway Arch some 321 miles away, if not well into Illinois.

But I didn’t want to canoe. I wanted breakfast. Specifically, I wanted eggs and hash browns or grits … or both. But where?

I came to Noel to pick up disassembled poultry from that chicken-plucking behemoth named after a World Heavyweight Boxing Champion. Why they named the company after an ear-biter like Mike is somewhat baffling to me. After all, he raises pigeons not chickens. Nevertheless, the corporate giant of processed meat let me drop the box … and off I went.

I first backtracked to the intersection of MO-EE and US 59 in Lanagan, to a place I thought looked really interesting, The Cave Bar and Grill, a bar (and grill) located in one of Missouri’s 6037 caves. (I did not make this number up. Six thousand thirty-seven is the actual number of recorded caves in the state.) I was quite giddy about eating breakfast in a cave. I imagined they might offer The Spelunker’s Spam Special or something. They don’t. They don’t even serve breakfast.

05 Noel_inside 2

I toured the place nevertheless and it was pretty cool (56°). As I left I had to wonder: On their readerboard advertising “Bike Night”, etc., was a curious addition: GOAT. Outside the Cave’s cave is a rocky-ledge pen with a bunch of goats in it. There are gumball machines fully stocked to dispense goat feed (25¢) at the turn of a handle. This raised a question: Should the goats dread Wednesdays?

So off I went to downtown Noel. You can imagine my delight when I saw Kathy’s Kountry Kitchen, which is “Open 7 Days a Week.” It was just after noon when I reached for the doorknob. I was ready for eggs, hash browns and/or grits. I knew I could get ‘em here.

The door was locked. I saw someone inside, so I called. When are y’all open, I asked? “Six to two, but we’re going to start opening at night.” But it’s just after noon and the door’s locked. “Yeah, my wife had a doctor’s appointment so we’re closed right now.” This really sucked. I knew he had hash browns and grits in there.

C’est la vie.

Across the street side-by-side were two other restaurants, the 219 and the Hog Shop. Did you know neither of them serve breakfast? Now you do.

In my travels I’d passed a couple of Mexican restaurants, one with cars and one without. My gut instinct said to visit the least traveled but my head said perhaps I should ask. So I did, of a couple of local poultry drivers. They directed me to the Rio Grande Mexican Restaurant.

The Rio Grande is a puny place, maybe 10 tables total. It’s clean and homey but they don’t have hash browns (shock!) and they don’t have grits (shock x10!). But they have eggs.

22 Noel_plate

I ordered the only egg dish they offered, Huevos ala Mexicana ($4.99), “Three scrambled eggs with sauteed onion, tomatoes and jalapeño peppers. Served with your choice of tortillas.” I got corn.

While the service was impeccable and the food was fulfilling, everything you’d expect eggs scrambled with onion, tomato and jalapeño would be, I was still somewhat disappointed. You see, I know that all Mexican restaurants have hominy hiding somewhere in the pantry. If figured if they ground the hominy and dried it out, they would have the makings for grits. It ain’t that hard.

I probably should’ve asked them to do it but I didn’t. You never know, they may’ve gone the extra mile.

And so we roll.

Rio Grande Mexican Food, 445 Cliffside Dr., Noel, Missouri

Tio Wally pilots the 75-foot, 40-ton(max) land yacht SS Me So Hungry. He reports on road food from around the country whenever parking and InterTube connections permit.

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Tio Wally Eats America: Hy-Vee again

I’m happy to have Tio Wally (long-time Me So Hungry reader) aboard to send in his eating adventures from across America. Here he is in Kansas City, Missouri.

Greetings from Kansas City, Missouri
N 39.211456 W -94.641591’ Elev. 968 ft.

Although it was exactly two weeks ago to the day, I remember it like it was yesterday. I stopped at this Hy-Vee to see what good things they have to eat. And once again I wasn’t disappointed even though some of it was garbage — literally!

I’m hesitant to stop at this particular Hy-Vee because yacht parking is non-existent. I have to circle the building and, if I’m lucky, I can park out of the way on the south side of the building. Weekends, especially Sundays, are better because there are no deliveries and I can dock and block one of the loading docks while I run inside. I have circled the place in the past and, due to lack of space, left hungry and frustrated. Those things happen (too often) when your vehicle is, um, slightly larger than a Smart car.

Hy-Vee has an all-you-can-eat brunch thing on the weekends. It’s not too bad for the price because they make omelets to order. They also have these breakfast sausages, big fat things, that are really good.

I’ve procured a lot of really great meals, usually specials, from Hy-Vee, like a giant stuffed pork chop with two sides for $5; Huevos Rancheros for $5; both Beef and Pork Loin for $5.95; Turkey dinners (they actually roast whole turkeys) for $5.95; Salisbury steak for $5.95, among many other things.

05 Hy-vee_meal

They have a meal special every day that varies a bit by location. The Sunday special at this Hy-Vee was Chicken Fried Steak, Mashed Potatoes, Green Beans and a roll for $5.95. You can substitute any of the sides, choosing from either the hot and cold cases. Hy-Vee is very flexible. They also have real butter to enhance your roll, veggies, or what have you. I went with the special “as written” even though they have the most awesome baked beans.

Needless to say, it was great. Hy-Vee usually has chicken or turkey gravy but they didn’t have it that day. They had the de rigueur Country Gravy for the Chicken Fried Steak, which is not bad, but I got the Brown Gravy instead. Go ahead, ask me why? (I don’t know. I really don’t know. I just did. I should’ve gotten half and half.) They have very good Brown Gravy.

I also got a piece of New York style cheesecake ($3.49). It was a very healthy portion, with chocolate-rum(?) syrup drizzled over it and crowned with a dollop of whipped cream.

After absconding with my booty I took a moment to jettison some trash that had been accumulating. As I walked to the trash can I saw a garbage can marked “Food Waste Only.” I’d seen it on the way in but figured it was filled to nearly overflowing with rotting, unmarketable fruit. Au contraire, mon ami.

On closer inspection I discovered that the fruit in the garbage can was, in fact, leftovers from the brunch. Because the fruit had been washed there was nothing else they could do but toss it. And they did — a lot of it!

01 Hy-vee_trash can

I ended up cherry-picking the equivalent of well over two full baskets of ripe strawberries. (I could’ve gotten three times as much but seriously, How many strawberries can a guy eat?) I also gleaned about a pound of grapes, three tangerines and a super-sweet seedless navel orange that was de-li-cious!

Because I am a shamelessly thankless cur, I was sort of pissed. Amidst the “garbage” were many watermelon and cantaloupe rinds. But no melon! Where’s the freakin’ melon? There I was, picking through the garbage can, doing my best Kyle Broflovski impersonation: “You bastards!” I screamed.

And so we roll.

Hy-Vee, 5330 NW 64th St., Kansas City, Missouri
and 234 other locations in Iowa, Illinois, Kansas, Minnesota, Missouri, Nebraska, South Dakota and Wisconsin.

Tio Wally pilots the 75-foot, 40-ton(max) land yacht SS Me So Hungry. He reports on road food from around the country whenever parking and InterTube connections permit.

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Tio Wally Eats America: La Fiesta Nixa

I’m happy to have Tio Wally (long-time Me So Hungry reader) aboard to send in his eating adventures from across America. Here he is in Nixa, Missouri.

Greetings from Nixa, Missouri
GPS 37.043198,-93.305648 Elev. 1308 ft.

I was wanting Mexican food, good Mexican food. Unfortunately it’s nearly impossible to find anything decent in that vein hereabouts. It was truly my good fortune then that we tried a small restaurant I’d spotted tucked away in the corner of a puny, nondescript strip mall located just off Highway 160, called La Fiesta Nixa.

Although most of its menu is standard Mexican fare, I noticed an anomaly tucked under “Specialty Dinners” and ended up having a real treat, one that I thought I’d never seen before: Lomito Saltado.

(As I was writing this I remembered seeing something similar on plates served at the Fina Estampa, a Peruvian restaurant located across Van Ness Avenue from the now-razed Jack Tar Hotel in San Francisco. But those dishes were laden with pre-fab French fries; I hate pre-fab fries! As a result, I didn’t order it.)

Lomito Saltado is described in La Fiesta’s menu as “A delicious Peruvian dish of beef steak, cooked with tomatoes, onions and fried potatoes, served with white rice and beans.” Because I wanted it picante (spicy) they added jalapeños to the mix.

The website Cuzco Eats describes it thusly: “… a cross-cultural marriage of a beef stir fry with indigenous, Peruvian potatoes …. Translated literally, the name seems to mean “jumped loin” or loin made to jump about.”
A beef, tomato, onion and jalapeño combination is very common in Mexican/Latin cuisine, often served as fajitas or with a Ranchero sauce or somesuch. What makes Lomo (or Lomito) Saltado so different is that, in addition to the (real, not pre-fab) potatoes, is that it wasn’t saucy. Moreover, it was seasoned very simply with salt and pepper, a bit of white vinegar, a dash of soy sauce and (I think) a squeeze of lime.

When my Lomito Saltado ($9.99) arrived it didn’t come quite as advertised. It was served with regular Spanish rice (rather than white) and a simple salad of lettuce, tomato and avocado, dressed with lime juice (rather than beans). I would’ve complained except I love lime juice (along with a dash of salt) on salad. And, what the hell, maybe they were out of white rice. Thankfully, it also contained realâ„¢ potatoes that, judging by the preparation time, were pre-cooked; I thought they were probably boiled and, blessedly, not French fried.

Needless to say, it was really tasty, truly a treat. The hint of vinegar gave the meat sort of tanginess that was quite wonderful. So good was it, in fact, that I let the Duke taste the leftovers. “Hmm,” he said, then promptly nuked it with some Rooster sauce and ate all my freakin’ food. Bastard!

My companion ordered her tried-and-true standby: A cheese enhilada with queso (cheese) sauce and beef taco combination, served with rice and beans ($6.99). I didn’t taste them but, being as she’s pretty damn finicky about stuff, she had no complaints. On the contrary, after we’d already wolfed down a basket of warm corn tortilla chips and a small carafe of La Fiesta’s great salsa, she still ate well-over half of her meal.

In all, it was a pretty good meal. Still it wasn’t a Mariscos Uruapan, easily the best Mexican restaurant I’ve ever had the pleasure of experiencing. (Hint: Get the Filete Uruapan.) Then again, La Fiesta Nixa was 1600 miles closer.

And so we roll.

La Fiesta Nixa, 562 W. Mount Vernon, Nixa, Missouri

Tio Wally pilots the 75-foot, 40-ton(max) land yacht SS Me So Hungry. He reports on road food from around the country whenever parking and InterTube connections permit.

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Tio Wally Eats America: Costco

I’m happy to have Tio Wally (long-time Me So Hungry reader) aboard to send in his eating adventures from across America. Here he is in Kennewick, Washington.

Greetings from Kennewick, Washington
N 46.227125 W 119.235268 Elev. 480 ft.

If you’ve never been to Costco before it can be an interesting place. It’s a membership warehouse store where “50 million people” pay a $55 (or $110) yearly fee for the privilege of buying more stuff than many of them will ever need and/or use.

Everything there is big: big packages, big bundles. If you want, say, a cantaloupe, you can’t buy just one. You have to buy a net-bag of three melons. And so it goes for virtually everything throughout the store.

Don’t get me wrong. It’s very high-quality stuff at fairly reasonable prices. You just have to want a lot, a whole lot. This can work out favorably, though. I bought an entire case (24 bottles) of the best beer in the world — Alaskan Amber Ale — for less than $24. The cheapest I’d seen it previously was about $30.

Costco also has a snack bar that’s truly a great deal. It offers only a half-dozen or so items but all of them are reasonably good, especially the Polish Dogs. And if the snack bar is located outside the building you don’t need a membership card to get one!

The deal is a 1/4 Pound PLUS All Beef Hot Dog or Polish Sausage with a 20 oz. Soda (one refill) for $1.50. As long as I can remember Costco sold Hebrew National meat tubes at the snack bar, which were really great. No surprise there. After all, Hebrew “We Answer to a Higher Authority” National is kosher, so they know weenies. Now, however, all Costco sells are Kirkland (Costco’s store brand) sausages. I don’t think they’re quite as good as the Hebrew National’s but it’s still a tasty deal.

Along with the dogs they have some decent fixin’s, like deli mustard, fresh-bagged, mechanically chopped onions from a hand-cranked, screw-driven metal dispenser, and little cups of sauerkraut (on request). All in all it’s a very good and very filling deal.

The bad part, though, is that in older stores and stores located in Northern climes the snack bar is located inside the building. That means you have to have a membership card to get in; they actually have people posted at the door checking membership cards like they’re visas or passports or something.

Of course, there are ways around that, too. But what a pain in the ass for a freakin’ ‘furter, Frank.

And so we roll.

Costco, locations throughout North America.

Tio Wally pilots the 75-foot, 40-ton(max) land yacht SS Me So Hungry. He reports on road food from around the country whenever parking and InterTube connections permit.

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Tio Wally Eats America: Dad’s Junction Cafe

I’m happy to have Tio Wally (long-time Me So Hungry reader) aboard to send in his eating adventures from across America. Here he is in New Florence, Missouri.

Greetings from New Florence, Missouri
N 38° 54.106’ W 91° 27.599’ Elev. 848 ft.

I wish I had a daytime picture of Dad’s but I showed up at night. From the Interstate it appears to be nothing more than a large storage-type building with “CAFE” prominently displayed on it. No mention of Dad’s. Or Junction. In fact, the only way to know what it’s actually called is to see the puny little reader board with missing letters (and read between the letters) or to go to the entrance (which is on the side of the building).

I’d passed the place for years. What caught my attention was two things: The number of trucks parked there and, more so, the number of cars that were always there during breakfast and lunch hours. Obviously, it’s worth a stop.

Dad’s claim to fame is Dad’s Famous Breaded Pork Tenderloin. The dinner, which includes either two sides or a salad and baked potato, is $10.39. So I ordered it, with the salad and baked potato.

As I waited for my dinner I saw plates laden with (as it turned out) Chicken Fried Steak come out. My gawd, I thought. How the hell am I going to eat all that? They were huge, HUGE!!!

Then my waitress brought my Pork Tenderloin dinner. The Tenderloin easily dwarfed the measly Chicken Fried Steaks two-fold. It was gargantuan. Although it was deep-fried it wasn’t the slightest bit greasy, with a delicately spiced breading that was flaky and crunchy, and the tenderest of tenderloins within.

The size of the thing was huge, CRAZY HUGE. I was able to eat less than half of it before I had my fill — and I was famished when I showed up.

But it came out without any gravy on it. Dry. I asked the waitress about gravy and she recommended the brown gravy with it. She brought it and it was very good, the gravy not too salty and obviously tweaked by “Dad.” But seeing the Chicken Fried Steak I wanted to try that gravy, too. She brought some and it was really thick and heavily peppered. The brown gravy was the call; always trust your server.

The salad was more than ample, crisp and fresh. The baked potato was, thankfully, on the small side. Indeed, I felt like a lightweight as I boxed up the remaining tenderloin.

As I was leaving I asked the waitress if the Tenderloin Sandwich ($9.29) was the same size as the dinner. “Yes,” she said; they bill it on the menu as “I-70s Largest Sandwich.” I thought it was so insane that I waited to get a picture of one. Now I know it’s true.

And so we roll.

Dad’s Junction Cafe, 413 Booneslick, I-70 & Hwy. 19 Exit 175, New Florence, Missouri

Tio Wally pilots the 75-foot, 40-ton(max) land yacht SS Me So Hungry. He reports on road food from around the country whenever parking and InterTube connections permit.

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Tio Wally Eats America: Hoof & Horn Steak House & Lounge

I’m happy to have Tio Wally (long-time Me So Hungry reader) aboard to send in his eating adventures from across America. Here he is in Saint Joseph, Missouri.

Greetings from Saint Joseph, Missouri
N 39° 43.155’ W 094° 52.089’ Elev. 860 ft.

I’ve said this before: Whenever the crew of the SS Me So Hungry wants to know where to go for something good to eat we ask the guys on the (loading) dock. We always end up at a place that couldn’t be found unless someone told us where it was.

This time it wasn’t the guys on the dock but, rather, a lady in the shipping office who recommended we sail just down the street, past the abandoned Livestock Exchange building, to the Hoof & Horn Steak House & Lounge for lunch. “I think they have the best prime rib in town,” she said.

The Hoof & Horn is billed as the oldest restaurant in St. Joseph, the city “Where the Pony Express began and Jesse James ended.” Established in 1896 in the historic Stockyards section of St. Joe, the place has had only four different owners in the last 117 years. And the Wild West-themed restaurant has some pretty darn good food, pardners.

As per my usual modus operandi I ordered off the Specials board. That day they were offering Country Fried Steak, Beef and Noodles, Grilled Tenderlion w/Pepper Jack Cheese, and a 5-Alarm Burger. All of them came with a choice of soup (Tomato Basil) or salad, a vegetable (corn or green beans), and dinner rolls for $8.60.

I had to have the Beef and Noodles and Tomato Basil soup. It spoke to me.

The Tomato Basil soup was absolutely awesome, flawless. It was different from any Tomato Basil soup I’d ever had. Instead of being completely pureed, it contained big chunks of fresh tomato, along with bits of onion and tiny bits of some sort of sausage.

The soup was so fabulous that I sought out the chef — who (I think) turned out to be owner Roy Swope — to tell him how great it was. You really made my day, er, week, er, month … year, I told him. “That’s saying a lot considering today’s the Second (of January),” he said.

The Beef and Noodles likewise were great. It was a huge portion of big, tender chunks of beef with homemade noodles, with a generous mound of homemade mashed potatoes — mashed potatoes and noodles? — in sort of a beef stew-like gravy. I was actually expecting egg noodles like you’d get with sirloin tips or stroganoff or something, but they were the type you’d get in homemade chicken noodle soup. Although I’m not a big fan of that type of noodle per se, these were actually pretty good.

Again, it was a huge portion, enough for a couple of meals. What a deal! This is a place I’ll most certainly be returning to.

Just before leaving I visited the “little boys room.” There on the wall hung a picture of Marion Morrison aka John Wayne. Looking at it I thought that it seemed to be perfectly positioned so that if you sat on the commode Mr. Grossly Overrated Hollywood Cowboy himself would be staring at you as you did your business.

Testing my hypothesis, I sat down and … it was true: The Duke stares directly at you when you take a dookey, or, put more accurately and with much more vulgarly, as you “pinch off a Steve Doocy.”

How ironic can you get? After all, I’ve always considered Icon Marion to be a really crappy actor.

And so we roll.

Hoof & Horn Steak House & Lounge, 429 Illinois Ave., Saint Joseph, Missouri,
located 1/8 mile east of the historic Livestock Exchange building.

Tio Wally pilots the 75-foot, 40-ton(max) land yacht SS Me So Hungry. He reports on road food from around the country whenever parking and InterTube connections permit.

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Tio Wally Eats America: Lambert’s Cafe

I’m happy to have Tio Wally (long-time Me So Hungry reader) aboard to send in his eating adventures from across America. Here he is in Ozark, Missouri.

Greetings from Ozark, Missouri
N 37° 04.164′  W 093° 13.409′  Elev. 1271 ft.

Be forewarned: If you’re sitting in Lambert’s Cafe no one will yell “Incoming!” or “Heads Up!” You simply have to pay attention because some people just can’t catch very well and you may well end up having a piping hot, oven fresh dinner roll carom off the side of your head. You can expect that sort of thing here. After all, Lambert’s is the “Home of the Throwed Rolls.”

The first Lambert’s Cafe was established in 1942 by Earl and Agnes Lambert in Sikeston, Missouri. According to their hand-out, they began throwing rolls to folks on May 26, 1976 when, during an extremely busy lunch hour, a roll-jonesing customer yelled “Just throw the damn thing!” They did. And to the delight of children and adults alike a tradition was born. And they’re great rolls.

A guy rolls a cart through the restaurant laden with trays of fresh made rolls and throws them, often across the room, hopefully into the waiting hands of customers. There are many misses, but he’s got more rolls. (He has the best job in the restaurant if you ask me.) Following close behind the roll-pitching Muffin Man is another person with sorghum, which they’ll happily drizzle on your hot roll.

Lambert’s is truly a quirky, somewhat wacky place with large open dining rooms of wooden booths and some of the busiest interior decorating known to man. And the service is unique as well. After your server takes your order people wander around with “Norm’s Pass Arounds,” the aforementioned hot rolls and sorghum, sides of fried okra, fried potatoes and onion, black-eyed peas, and really great macaroni and tomatoes.

Moreover, you can get as much as you want of anything: entrees, pass arounds, rolls, etc. But if you get seconds on your entree you can’t get a to-go box. There’s actually a sign to that effect reading “Please, No Doggie Bags, Extra Plates or Sharing Plates!” in the entryway. But how anyone could order seconds is beyond me as the portions are so generous to begin with.

For entrees my Gang of Four ordered Shrimp ($15.99), huge shrimp deep-fried golden brown; Pork Chops ($13.99), which you can get grilled, smoked or deep-fried; and Golden Fried Chicken ($12.49). Because he ordered all white meat ($1 extra) the plate came with two giant breasts, of which he could only finish one. I ordered the XXL – Center Cut Ham ($14.99). The sugar-cured ham was definitely XXL, nearly covering the giant skillet it was served in. All the food was great.

Every entree comes with two sides, of which they have 18 choices. One of them, however, a Pineapple Walnut Salad, costs $1.99 extra. It sure is good though, and it’s a big bowl worth the extra couple of bucks.

At first glance at the menu, Lambert’s may seem sort of pricey but it’s more than made up for in gargantuan portions, and the rolling Roll Show. And, like I said, you can get a to-go box if you don’t order seconds. In fact, plan on having at least two meals from whatever you order.

There is also some true weirdness to be found on the menu as well, like “Somethin’ Southern.  All the white beans a body can eat with your choice of ham or fried bologna and 2 vegetables served with a King Edwards cigar or Big Red chewing gum.” It’s only $8.99. Those same white beans minus the meat are also one of the vegetable choices by the way. But why a mess of white beans comes with a cigar or chewing gum is anyone’s guess.

If you visit Lambert’s you can plan on waiting to get in, sometimes up to a good hour or more. We showed up about 10 a.m. for the 10:30 opening and there was already a line. Thankfully, it’s a fairly big place and we were seated immediately as soon as it opened. When we left, however, it was another story altogether, with a line out the door. A lot of this is a combination of its proximity to Branson  — it’s located right off US65, the road to (as Bart Simpson accurately described it) “Las Vegas as envisioned by Ned Flanders” — thus a must-stop for passing tour buses, and because the locals eat here as well.

Another weird quirk about Lambert’s is that they don’t take credit cards, which baffles me to no end. They only take cash or personal checks. As luck would have it, though, there is an ATM inconveniently located in the entryway (which they own, no doubt). Why it isn’t next to the cashier just adds to the bafflement. The rhyme and reason of some things seems to be on permanent holiday at Lambert’s.

Lambert’s Cafe is an extremely fun dining experience that more than lives up to its motto: “Come hungry, leave full, and hopefully have a laugh or two.”

And so we … roll.

Lambert’s Cafe, restaurants in Sikeston and Ozark, Missouri and Foley, Alabama

Tio Wally pilots the 75-foot, 40-ton(max) land yacht SS Me So Hungry. He reports on road food from around the country whenever parking and InterTube connections permit.

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Tio Wally Eats America: Oki Fried Rice

I’m happy to have Tio Wally (long-time Me So Hungry reader) aboard to send in his eating adventures from across America. Here he is in Galena, Missouri.

Greetings from Galena, Missouri
N 36° 47.079’  W 093° 30.350’  Elev. 885 ft.

The crew of the SS Me So Hungry got a few much needed days of shore leave recently. And as per usual we took full advantage of the chance to again use and abuse the overly generous hospitality of the Duke of Earl and his gracious family.

During this hiatus I made one of my real comfort foods, something that’s impossible to get “out there.” It’s a dish my Mom made when I was a kid that I loved. And because she didn’t make it very often — possibly because it’s kind of a pain in the butt — it was always a real treat whenever she made it.

For lack of a better name I called it “Okie Fried Rice” for years, which my mother vehemently objected to with marked indignation, and for good reason. You see, although she was born in Arizona, her family were Dust Bowl refugees and the term “Okie” was considered by her to be extraordinarily derogatory and downright hurtful. But I didn’t know what else to call it. After all, it has little in common with Chinese restaurant Fried Rice other than it contains rice.

Thankfully providence raised its pretty little head when I had a friend over one day and made Okie Fried Rice. She ate a bowl of it and then another. While eating the second bowl my friend, who is Japanese, looked at me thoughtfully and asked, “What makes it ‘big’?” Confused, but ever the exemplarily mannered host, I asked: “What the f**k are you talking about? What the hell do you mean, ‘big’?” She then explained that “Oki” means “big” in Japanese.

Needless to say my mother was thrilled to learn that my name for this rice dish had lost a vowel and had become acceptable to her, if not downright respectable. So here’s the recipe for Oki Fried Rice:

8 cups cooked rice
6-8 stalks of Celery
2-3 large Green Bell Peppers
2-3 bunches Green Onion
3-5 cans of Tuna, drained
2-3 eggs

Yield: More than you’ll probably want. I always make a lot so adjust it to yield however much you want.

Roughly chop the veggies and mix all the ingredients together in a humongous mixing bowl. Then fry it in the cheapest oil you can find in the following fashion: Fill the bottom of the frying pan so that the rice is about a half-inch deep when it’s smashed down as much as possible. Let the mixture fry until you see the outer edges brown, then turn it over. If it’s fried the proper amount of time it will come apart sort of like hash browns. After turning it over, break it up with the front edge of the spatula and smash it down as before. Be aware that the “second side” will cook faster than the first and you shouldn’t let it get as brown.

After frying the rice, put it in a bowl or storage container lined with paper towels. This will help soak up whatever excess oil will drain through.

Then dish yourself a bowl of Oki Fried Rice, hit it with soy sauce to taste and …. (If I knew how to write Homer Simpson’s drooling, food-Nirvana utterance, I’d have written it here instead of an ellipses.)

Oki Fried Rice reheats marvelously in about a minute or so in a Nuke-Ro-Wave™. It’s great as a meal, a side dish or, topped with scrambled or fried eggs, for breakfast.

Another treat we had is one that is bafflingly hard to find on the road: Regular, so-called “American” waffles. You’d be amazed how many places only have the waffle bastardizations of the Belgian variety, which I hate.

It took awhile but — unless you want to pay $80 or more — I finally found an American waffle iron; you can find those Belgian waffle bastards for as little as $12 most anywhere. I found the American one for $9.50 at an ersatz antique shop (a brick-and-mortar flea market, really) in Crane, Missouri. The iron worked fine. But then a friend who had heard me bitching about my frustration of finding an American waffle iron showed up with an even better one, one with double-sided irons that worked even better. Both of the waffle irons are easily about as old as I am.

So we had American Waffle Day for the SS Me So Hungry crew and the kids, and we all got to enjoy real American waffles with Mrs. Buttersworth syrup, bacon that was perfectly fried (not too crispy), and farm fresh over-easy eggs. Life just doesn’t get much better than that.

And so we roll.

Tio Wally pilots the 75-foot, 40-ton(max) land yacht SS Me So Hungry. He reports on road food from around the country whenever parking and InterTube connections permit.