Road Trip

This past weekend we learned that not all places south of the Mason-Dixon are created equal.


It was my best friend’s wedding and we drove to Washington DC where the wedding and other festivities were held. Two hours into it we were a quarter of the way through. That’s when I asked Scott: “Why did we decide to drive?” He didn’t remember either. It suddenly dawned on me that just because we were South of the NY border didn't mean that the cities are right next to each other.

If not for the downpour the whole way, the drive would have been beautiful. North Carolina has the prettiest tree lined highways, especially now in the fall when the leaves are turning red, orange and gold.

The drive was not a total bust. We discovered the Country Pride diner at the TA gas station/truck stop. It was a forlorn looking place with bright but cheerless fluorescent lights, empty except for a handful of truckers eating alone and staring at the counter. I’m not sure if it’s because we have started to set low expectations so we can be pleasantly surprised, but we both enjoyed our meal, even if the gelatinous neon yellow chicken noodle soup looked a bit suspect.

Everything on the menu was all you can eat. Scott could have ordered another patty melt for free but he was smart enough to know that half a pound of greasy ground chuck and bright orange cheese food was more than enough for his stomach to handle for the night.

That was the first of three all-you-can-eat restaurants we’ve visited in a week. On the drive back from DC, we ate at the Pizza Inn – a chain restaurant with a pizza buffet where Scott reminisced about the thin crust pepperoni pizza that was routinely burnt to a crisp. I don’t know what was more disturbing – the fact that I was at an all-you-can-eat pizza buffet or that we actually sought it out. Imagine my relief when he declared that it wasn’t as good as it used to be and that we never had to go back again.

Then last night, we pulled into a Golden Corral, which was as inevitable as grits in the South. There was a decent salad bar and plenty of sautéed and roasted vegetables so you can eat healthfully, theoretically. But of course, most veggies were swimming in oil, and there were also the crispy hush puppies, fried chicken, meatloaf, pot roast, and hot rolls that just begged for your attention. I ordered pan fried shrimp at the “fresh and healthy” seafood bar where I saw the cook poured half a cup of butter into the pan. Then there was the chocolate fountain where you can dip in your choice of fruit, macaroon or marshmallow on a skewer. The little girl in front of me lost her strawberry to the depths of the fountain never to be seen again, and I tried not to think about the many strawberry and pineapple chunks that might be floating in there by the end of the night when it was my turn to dip my marshmallow in the flowing chocolate sauce.

It’s a good thing our bathroom scale is out of battery.


The weather here is starting to cool although just two nights ago, it was in the low 70s and we sneaked in another round of grilling outside. We even hosted friends in our corner of the parking lot. Living by Dave’s philosophy that anything that can be charred can be grilled, we threw on bokchoy, leeks and even steamed Chinese-style fish in aluminum foil packets filled with ginger and scallions. Scott wanted to make sure that I mentioned the s’mores we made last time when we toasted marshmallows in the flame, then plopped them on graham crackers and dark chocolate that we warmed on the grill. We didn’t do it this time though as we were trying to go light on sweets a week before Thanksgiving.

Which we’ve committed to hosting. So far our neighbor Dave/cat-whisperer is our only confirmed guest. Might as well, since we still do not have a working stove. I’m secretly devising Plan B by saving the advertisement from Buca di Beppo in case we need to outsource.

Onto our latest Appliance Update. An electrician is here as we speak and we should have a working microwave and dishwasher by today. Our stove still cannot be connected because little did we know that our fancy dual-fuel range requires a higher voltage of electricity than the normal outlet we have, and the gas burners require a separate hook up entirely. The good thing is, it is the South after all and we can always deep fry our turkey in the parking lot.

About the surprise antique purchase from my last post, Scott came back to find a giant mirror framed by an original copper window salvaged from the Flat Iron building in Manhattan.

We now have a little piece of New York in Charlotte.