Stew Miller Musings and Rants
I Complain (Oh, and Doodle), You Read and/or Comment, Everyone is Happy… IT’S SO SIMPLE!

The Feed Bag

The Miller Collective is a sizable group to say the least, five strong at this writing (and staying there, as of forever) and we do, as a unit, like to go out to eat. Who doesn’t, right? I mean we can’t cook for our little bottomless, chirruping maws all the time, we’d loose fingers! So, with that in mind, in stands to reason that we’d want to choose a place where we can eat like drunken sumo wrestlers on as little of our funds as humanly possible. That being said, we do appreciate a good, or even mediocre, buffet. And the most mediocre of them all has got to be Old Country Buffet. Nowhere else can you find a more ‘wretched hive of scum and villainy’, as Obi Wan so eloquently put it. That little axiom could not hold truer than at the O.C.B.. My kids love it, so that’s already a plus in my book, and they have tons of food that my wife likes, plus another. However, their buffet line does leave a lot to be desired in the variety department as a whole.

First off, I can only deal with one or two seperate, but suprisingly alike, types of beef. They offer sliced beef direct from the loin (or, loin-ish, at any rate), fried steak-like meat patties (also probably beef), chipped beef in man gravy (possibly not beef), and, on occasion, a different type of steak from a different part of the cow/tapir. That’s all well and good, I suppose, if you just have to get your beef fix on, knock yourself out. I, on the other hand, could easily come up with 2 or 3 different meat choices from other animals all together to fill in some of those spaces.

Also they have potatoes. No, seriously, the have POTATOES! When it comes to tuber options you are in Heaven here. They have fries, mashed, hashed, whipped, chipped, boiled, roiled, and even mixed with every conceivable dish under the sun. Again, if you are filling many trays with more than 2 or 3 styles of redskins, it’s time to explore other avenues, okay?

So, now that we have covered the basics of the entrees, I do have to admit that I thoroughly enjoy a good salad bar. O.C.B. has a relatively decent salad bar with many of the accompaniments I enjoy on my buried lettuce such as: peaches, chocolate pudding, beets, muffins, and hand-dipped muskrats. I normally begin my evening with a nice salad and if I can’t immediately plop food items into a towering cone, I’m not entirely satisfied.

Well, we lugged the kids to breakfast on Saturday. This is the meal our O.C.B. is known for. When they do breakfast, they go nuts. You can, in all reality, get eggs served 13 different ways including the elusive ‘A’La Peter T. Hooper’, very tasty indeed. Also, you can get, and I absolutely love this choice, fried chicken and waffles. Man, I love me some soul food to the extreme. Pair that awesome collective with biscuits and gravy and you may as well be living in Loo’Sianna! Yes, breakfast is fine, and the family loves chewing from the trough as well… please them all, I say.

Now this particular Saturday I encountered some of the most outrageous dregs that humanity can possibly produce. For some reason O.C.B. is like a haven for those folks that other restaurants wouldn’t serve if they’d worn a suit made out of fifties. This poor schlubs are rotten smelling, oozing with festering rottenness, and surrounded by an aura of utter filth as to make the casual passerby retch into the cheese cake. Some exceed the local weight limit by leaps and bounds almost to the point where state bridges become inaccessible, if you dig. And I suppose, they, too, must east, and they, too, eat like some crazy cats. Or, eat the cats, themselves.

The worst, though, is Bulemic Betty. No, probably not her real name. She sits alone at her table with plate upon plate of food looking hungry, but somehow sad as well as though she already knows what’s in store. Then, as if she’d had Hoover tattooed on her arm, begins inhaling every scrap of food from her platters. Next, it’s off to the bathroom for a little technicolor yawning session, and then back to the table again for even more chowing excitement.  Just plain wrong. Sure, you have troubles, mack, but please have those troubles elsewhere. Yuck!

And that, as they say, is that. Fun and good times down at the Food World. Get on down there and try any number of their fabulous variegated food items. Oh, and watch out, you might get vomited on. 

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