It was cold on Sunday and the wind was damp and penetrating. For want of something better to do before the concert in the evening, we drove to Brenham where a farmers' market was advertised. We've been to Brenham before and enjoyed wandering round the old downtown area, but yesterday was no day for loitering outside. We purchased beans, small sweet peppers, Longhorn beef mince, Longhorn smoked beef sausage and some local cheese and left them in the boot of the car, which was as good as a fridge, and then went in search of lunch. We spied somewhere that looked busy - Smitty's - and took shelter there. The menu turned out to be anything fried! So Peter had a hamburger, which he insisted on eating with a knife and fork, and I had chicken fried steak…BIG mistake. I believe it's a southern delicacy. Maybe it was the way Smitty ruined it, but it was HORRIBLE. A bit of meat that had been pounded to within an inch of its life and covered in what looked like breakfast cereal and fried. I must have ingested a week's worth of salt!
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Smitty's was a family restaurant in the front and the bad boys lurked at the back where there were televisions on every wall, slot machines, pool tables and dart boards. How about this for a television screen!
They also demonstrated a sense of humour…I think!
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| It says "We don't dial 191" |
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| Owooooooo! |
On the way back to the car I spotted something in a window that perfectly summed up what I thought of lunch!
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