My mother was an amazing chef. Every afternoon at 4:30 she'd start prepping food, and every night at 6:00, we'd sit down to an incredible meal. Potatoes on the right, veggies to the left. Meat was front and center. The salad (never from a bag) sat off to the side, and was always eaten after the meal, for some reason. Often, there would be cake, pie or ice cream. Life was good.
And then, she died.
Within a year, as required by law, my father bought a house in Florida, along with a boat and an RV. He circled the country and crossed Canada in that RV. He knew good food, but whenever he got hungry, he would seek out nearest Cracker Barrel.
I don't understand it either.
Maybe it was the big parking lots with plenty of space for the RV, maybe it was the idea that he could buy some crap for the grand kids as he waited for his table (he actually bought me one of the rocking chairs and parked it on my front porch), or perhaps he just couldn't remember the name of any other restaurants and didn't want to put a lot of effort into it before getting back on the road.
Whatever.
Every year on his birthday, I'd offer to take him out to dinner. Sardi's, Nobu, wherever he wanted to go. He would always choose Cracker Barrel.
About six month's after he passed away, my youngest daughter suggested that we should celebrate Grandpa's birthday at Cracker Barrel. They adored each other, and it seemed like a cute idea, so we decided to do it.
It's become a thing.
Every year, while sitting there waiting for the check, I swear that it's the last time that I'm going to do this.
But here we are...it's February 26th. I've stopped counting, but he would have been in his mid-90s now, and tonight, along with my siblings, scattered across the country, we will individually gather our respective offspring and head to the nearest Cracker Barrel, in memory of Grandpa. If he were still here, he would smile and be the happiest guy ever, and insist on picking up the check...even if he couldn't read it without his glasses.
So tonight, wherever you are, if you need an adequate meal, with adequate service, at a fairly reasonable price, find your way to the nearest Cracker Barrel. Sit down, raise a cup of black coffee ("it doesn't matter if it's late, it won't keep me up"), and think of my father.
He was an awesome guy, and I miss him very much.
