As is our usual custom, we asked the hotel desk clerk what was “nearby” in the way of eating places, for we had observed that aside from our Inn, a Red Roof Inn, nearby, a gas station and a McDonalds, there was nothing that the eye could see… basically a pretty desolate-looking station stop. Reception told us yes, there was the McDonalds visible from the front door; a Waffle House about ½ mile away; a Wendy’s about 1 mile away and that was pretty well it! None of these appealed to Liz and me so we again pressed the reception clerk “isn’t there anything or anywhere else around that we could get a bite to eat?” She pondered a bit and then told us there was a place called … The Country Club. Now in fact there was a name that preceded The Country Club identifying the individual who had built this marvellous facility many years ago, but rather than risk a possible slander or libel suit, we will forego mentioning the owner’s name for purposes of this story.
The Reception clerk at the Hampton Inn gave us directions to The Country Club, about a 6-mile drive away, along 2-lane winding rural roads and told us that it was NOT a country club such as we might have envisioned, eg: a high-level golf club, or Banquet Hall or similar. In fact, she told us, we would be perfectly fine in our somewhat rumpled travelling clothes, but because it WAS a Saturday afternoon, we would need to call and make reservations.
Liz reached The Country Club to learn several interesting facts. Firstly, they were only open 3 nights a week, Thursdays when they served chicken dishes; Fridays when they served seafood dishes and Saturdays when it was steak night. There were two sittings, much the way cruise ships used to operate.. one.. at 6:30 and one at 8:00. We opted for the 6:30 sitting and, by telephone, were obliged to provide our names and place our steak order indicating, in our case, that we wanted to share one steak and that it was to be cooked medium rare. They did NOT charge us for sharing a meal.
The drive took us less than 15 minutes. We reached an intersection of two roads, which boasted a sign.. “road closed until further notice”. Looking to the only building on our left, it was evident that we had arrived at The Country Club, which, in any other locale, could be described as a run-down, almost condemned older wood frame building that had obviously been a gasoline station/general store at one time in its history, but was now.. The Country Club eatery. The unpaved parking lot hosted an assortment of pickup trucks, most of which had seen better days. We parked and threaded our way through what had once been gasoline pump platforms to the squealing, front entry, hinged screen door.
We entered the premises only to be told that we were 15 minutes too early for our dinner and could not be “seated” until the appropriate time when a bell would be rung. Looking around, we saw a horseshoe-shaped bar to the right, and across the room to the left was another room with 4 pool tables that were catering to complete families. With 15 minutes to spare, Liz and I each ordered a glass of wine from the bartender who barely looked 12 years of age, and that was our first treat… $5.00/glass and the glass was, in fact, a juice glass holding what looked like about 3.5 oz of wine… a good deal in my opinion.
With glass in hand, we sauntered over to what looked like the entranceway leading to the eating area, a narrow aisle, blocked by a table with a cash register and a credit card machine sitting on it and no-one behind the table until exactly 6:30 when a woman seated herself in the chair and started to accept pre-payments for dinners.
