Salado

To say thanks to the kids who work for us, we took them to lunch today at an ancient little restaurant called the Stagecoach Inn in Salado, an antiquing town. (You know, one of those little towns that has no more industry or large employers, hence a plethora of boutiques, antiques, and eateries of ye olde towne variety that little old ladies frequent.

The inn has supposedly been around since the Civil War, playing host to a variety of now-dead white warring males (Robert E. Lee, anybody?). The restaurant proudly features 150-year-old recipies and the dining room's drapes matched the wallpaper exactly, the pattern breaking only for the view outside. A little dizzying, to be sure.

While the decor was trite and banal, lunch was really quite tasty. I had King Ranch Chicken with veggies accompanied by a banana fritter. Yes, a mashed banana battered, deep fried, and crowned with a maraschino cherry. Unfortunately, the giddy guilt-inspiring ingredients and preparation method didn't really add up to a taste extravaganza. It was merely a "meh" fritter. Oh well, the scoop of vanilla ice cream with strawberries I had for dessert made up for it.