Checking in

September 23, 2016

The Bulldog. An American classic. Go there.

The Bulldog. An American classic. Go there.

It’s Friday night. I have not cooked.

Well, actually, I cooked last night, but I didn’t take pictures. Child C was here, and I hadn’t cooked in something approximating two and a half years, and I was jonesing for something down home. So I made a meat loaf, baked in the CSO (I love my CSO), cooked some frozen from the summer field peas, fried some okra, and made mashed potatoes.

It was good. Nothing to rock the world, but good.

Lunch today, now, lunch might rock the world. I had to make an unexpected trip to Little Rock to Children’s Hospital with Child C and Amazing Grandchild 2, he of the ears-from-hell. Kid is on Set. No. 4 (or is it 5?) of ear tubes, and ear infection No. 4,726. Primary care doc threw up his hands, said, “Take him to the ER.” Which we did, Wednesday night, and can I just say? People of WalMart have a challenge. (I’m sorry. That was real tacky. But then, I have a real tacky streak. Mea culpa. Mea maxima culpa.)

Anyway, ER doc (and DAMN, folks, he was cute!) got on the phone with their ENT guy, who used to be our ENT guy, or at least in our ENT group, before we graduated to Children’s, and prescribed a different antibiotic. Which the kid had for a day before we got to Children’s. And his ears are already clearing up, and Tubes No. 4 (5?) are still in place and doing what they’re supposed to do, and y’all just don’t waste time with the -cillin drugs but go straight to Bactrim next time.

So after we’d driven two hours to be in the doc’s office for 30 minutes (I love a doc’s office where you don’t have to wait!), it was too early for lunch at my first choice, Big Orange. So we opted to wait until we were halfway back home, and stop at the Bulldog in Bald Knob.

People. Should you ever be traversing Northeast Arkansas via U.S. 67, you need to stop here. If it’s in the spring and early summer, you can enjoy THE Strawberry Shortcake, capitals because it’s iconic, which is because it’s so damn good. As this was late summer, there were no strawberries, but what there was, was the barbecued chicken plate.

It’s $5.99, and I defy you to find a better meal for the price anywhere. It brings you a healthy helping of smoked, chopped chicken, a combo of light and dark meat, with a side cup of a peppery, barely-sweet sauce, that’s enough for your basic longshoreman, or, as is more typical in that part of the country, hay-baler; along with sizeable servings of a quite respectable, if basic, mayo-based sweet slaw and baked beans that, unfortunately, have a significant presence of bell pepper.

No matter. I ate almost all the chicken and left the bigger portion of the beans and slaw.

This is good stuff. Consistently good stuff. I’ve been eating it for years; it’s my order-of-choice at the Bulldog, and it’s always good. I wish I could smoke chicken to taste like that.

I managed to leave room for lemon icebox pie. It was good. Mine is better. But I haven’t made one lately, so there.

Perhaps I will have time to cook next week, as the busy from last week has damn-sho continued through this one. Little cooking on the agenda this weekend, either. But next week promises an open day or so, and it’s supposed to  cool off, to boot. You ‘n y’mama ‘n ’em check back in with me then, and we might manage to cook something fun.




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