I'm trying not to lose too much time on the road, so this will be quick. I'm en route from Atlanta to Cape May, NJ for a Girls Beach Weekend with my Mom and sister, then scooting over another 50 miles to visit my grandfather.
Part of the adventure, I've decided, is to do my best to eat at non-chain restaurants on the trip (please disregard the fact that I'm using the free wi-fi at Panera at the moment). Lunch was at Clocks Restaurant, in Gaffney, SC.
They did not take the obvious/Hitchcocky route with an all-clock decor, thank goodness. You know, when you look at a menu in the South and see fried pickles, pimiento cheese sandwiches, three different types of barbecue sandwich, and fried green tomatoes, you think "These folks take their Dixie cookin' seriously."
About the last thing I would've considered is "Man, they have GOT to have some terrific Greek food." No idea if it's terrific, but to my great amazement they had a lot of it listed on the next page.
When you eat a good barbecue sandwich there should be a little sweet (molasses), a little sour (vinegar and tomato), a little spicy and a little smoke. What this sandwich did - and I have no idea how - was smell like hot dogs. I tried it anyway (I LOATHE hot dogs) - it first tasted honey-sweet, then syrupy, then sourdough-ish, then a kind of chemical/liquid smoke kinda thing was going on.
A shame, because I wanted to like it. The fries were amazing and the service friendly. They even took the extra step of double-bunning the sandwich - there were two bottom-bun-pieces stacked one on the other, so that the sauce wouldn't soak through the bun. GENIUS.
Thoughts while traveling:
A radio station in South Carolina advertised "Rock Star Dentistry" and promised an unparalleled sensory experience. For real? Because would totally do the drive for a chocolate-pedicuregasm that left my teeth clean. Weekly.
Holy moly, I really am eating nuts and berries. My car snacks are strawberries and almonds.
I've been working on my genealogy for a while and have come across some people that I suspect are relatives who I've never heard of. I'm going to ask my grandfather about them while I'm there, and suspect it's (another) branch of the family that no one's talking to for reasons I'm not yet old enough to know (I'm 40).
My friend in Virginia said there are very few restaurants in the small town where he lives, so I'm glad I've embraced the adventure. Stay tuned.