On Saturday my friend BonBon and I stopped for lunch at a local dining establishment, called The Alley Cat. The place caters to farmers, hunters, drunks and others early to bed and early to rise; it opens at five in the morning and closes at six in the evening, and reading a single page of the menu could cause arterial blockage.
As I said, we were there for lunch, but they serve breakfast all day, and at noon the chalkboard still offered the breakfast special: French toast sandwiched with ice cream, topped with whipped cream and drizzled with caramel. Get up, go have that for breakfast, go home and go to bed to sleep off the sugar, and you're still up in time to get to the hardware store at nine o'clock.
Abstemious I ordered a salad. It was a submarine sandwich without the bread: Iceberg lettuce, topped with a pound of roast beef, cheese, ham and turkey, and was served with a gravy boat of blue cheese dressing.
There are healthy items on the menu. They offer bowls of oatmeal, for example. With the option of ice cream melting on top.
All in all, my kind of place. Here in this climate the humans, like Arctic whales, need to maintain a healthy layer of blubber to withstand the oncoming winter. Besides, that kind of food makes us Northeasterners happy and mellow.
It feeds our souls and and prepares us for meeting our Maker.
At early ages.
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