Bronks Bar and Grill - Lake City, MN

Have you ever had sex with a rodeo clown? Never mind, that question is stupid. Nobody has. Not even the Insane Clown Posse and they have both the words "clown" and "posse" in their name! But have you ever stopped to think "why" nobody has sex with rodeo clowns? Me neither. That train of thought would only end up as a fiery pile of crap at the bottom of Shonash Ravine.

Anyway, as you try and wrap your mind around rodeo clown sex and the possibility that Harry the Bull and his band of Gifted Bovines is somehow responsible for the complete lack of some true bull on clown action, turn your thoughts to a little slice of Food Network Television that features Chef Robert Irvine trying to save failing restaurants from their own stupidity and turn them into Dollar Store phenoms with a better menu. 

One particular episode that recently caught my eye was filmed in Lake City, Minnesota and the location is only a few hours away from me. I couldn't resist. This was going to be a nice surprise or an utter disappointment. 

The atmosphere of the place was not bad and I was greeted warmly and sat immediately. In fact, the color scheme was welcoming and I noted several of the improvements which I had seen on the show. The place was at about 25% capacity so I didn't expect any delays. The long drive had me famished and I could have eaten the ass off a dead rhinoceros! So I sat . . . . 8 minutes for my water . . . . . 15 minutes for my appetizer of fresh cheese curds. Now, here is where things actually get interesting; the curds were outstanding and the three home made sauces of spicy ketchup, honey mustard, and horseradish mayo were all quite flavorful! A pleasant surprise, but I wouldn't expect anything less from recipes by the great Chef Irvine. I ordered my burger at the same time as the appetizer so I expected to be served in short order. 

Chirp, chirp, chirp. 

With very little to do, the servers apparently concluded that they didn't need to participate in the actual practice of serving and my water ran dry. Where's Jesus when you need him? After 37 minutes, I noted that the booth behind me, which had been seated when I arrived, finally got their food. Not a good sign. 

Chirp, chirp, chirp.

48 minutes in and I flagged one of the ladies down and got a refill on my water. She apologized for the delay but had no conclusion as to the whereabouts of my burger. In the meantime, a young hippie family seated across from me had allowed their 4 year-old to play loud video games on their iPhone without regard to the rest of the clientele. My flaring nerves cast a look of such searing hatred towards the alleged father that he immediately grabbed the phone and turned it down (much to the dismay of his child). 

Chirp, chirp, chirp (at least it wasn't a stupid iPhone game anymore). 

72 minutes. ENOUGH! I got up and asked one of the servers for a status and they had no answer. I handed her cash to pay for my now digested and wanting released appetizer. Then I walked. Disappointed, hungry and pissed off!

This was, by far, the slowest service in burger history. I applaud Chef Irvine for his work, but perhaps he should have stayed home and allowed this one to fail because all he apparently did was prolong the misery. A  misery that, along with wanting loins of Joan Rivers and her plastic vagina, would only be satisfied by becoming the enslaved rodeo sex clown of Harry and his Gifted Bovines. 

Foodie Quickie @ Solea - Appleton WI

The apparent bastard child of an illegal Mexican and a Polish immigrant, Solea delivers a bland selection of nondescript food lacking in personality, flavor, and distinction that evokes anyone with a pallet, not made of wood and stacked in a rodent infested warehouse, to cry out in pain and wonder if they had somehow traveled back to their infancy glued in to an out-of-date car seat strapped to a Flux Capacitor and were, in fact, eating an old jar of Gerber Squash (have you ever tried that stuff? Ewe!). Whereas, the Mexican side of the equation works hard to fill your need for sustenance with beans, rice and meat but forgot to bring the cumin along for good measure, the Polish side just sits there and wonders what to do and why their friendly one-armed cousin just fell out of a tree! The lack of flavor left my own pallet feeling lonely and completely disregarded by the entire student body . . . just like Jr. high school gym class. 

Frontier Restaurant - Amherst WI

Date of Visit: 3-25-2012

Time of Visit: 10:00 AM

Pebble Score:

Legends in Central Wisconsin have long told of the first hardy settlers in the area and how they drove their dairy herds from the Southern plains all the way up to the richest milking lands in the country. From Holsteins and their non-prejudistic black and white spots, to Jerseys with "R" pronunciation impediments, the majestic herds drove on through the rain, sleet, snow and darkness of night until they reached the lush and fertile grounds of the promised land. Although the journey was beset with difficulties, the settlers were instrumental in laying down the first building blocks of what is now the greatest cheese and butter producing region in the country. 

The cows were so happy that they rewarded the people with milk so rich in cream that the only thing to do was to make a pound of butter for each and every inhabitant in the area. This land was the frontier to butter giant Land-O-Lakes and paved the way for that cute little squaw on their butter package that if you fold the picture just right and cut out the top of her blouse, it looks like her breasts are hanging out!

After years of stockpiling butter instead of nuclear warheads, and an unfortunate event where the dairy section of the food pyramid became a side note on the new "food plate", a new avenue for butter consumption had to be found or we would risk sliding into a recession worse than the one that befell gyros. Luckily, restaurateurs across the nation heeded the call of the wild and have collectively managed to keep dairy farmers in Wisconsin operational. Now, any new charge must have a leader, and the restaurant leading the charge for butter consumption in the country is the Frontier Restaurant in Amherst, Wisconsin. 

I had the opportunity to visit this restaurant for breakfast on a beautiful Saturday morning where everyone, it appeared, was there to ensure I had the most wonderful eating experience of my existence. . . they failed. When a place is busy, I always expect a bit slower service and don't fault the staff, but personality is another story. Tina greeted us with the exuberance of an ocean tube worm and I could tell right away we were sliding off the borderline in a hurry! 

The decor was predominantly country and I found myself surrounded by wood. The tongue in groove kind and a host of other. We ordered at 10:11 am. I happily requested the 8-ounce chopped steak, over easy eggs, hash browns and home-made raisin toast, while my breakfast companion opted for the bacon and eggs plate. The drinks arrived six minutes later (that's 10:17 for those that can't add very fast) and then the food came at 10:33 a full 22 minutes after we ordered it. 

My egg whites had the consistency of a dried out Trojan, the steak was overcooked but was still juicy and had great grill marks with a small amount of seasoning. Too little for my taste. My companion's eggs were omelet like and were accompanied by tough bacon. Now I was out of coffee. I pushed my hash browns to the side and instantly regretted the move. The rush of butter to the center of my plate must have created an imbalance in the space time continuum and I instantly understood why everyone in town was here . . . to save the cows! 

My home made raisin toast, which I had been looking forward to trying, suffered a similar fate as the hash browns. I picked it up and managed to squeeze out about a teaspoon full of the oleo from each slice! Needless to say, I did not eat most of my breakfast. Tina asked me if I wanted a box to take home my leftovers, but I politely declined as I feared a return of the Blob and I knew Steve McQueen wouldn't be there to pull me out!

Ghee, even though my experience with the Frontier Restaurant and their eternal  stick-of-slick was not to my liking, there are many other folks who enjoy the establishment, so who am I to spread any ill feelings? Try them for yourself. I now wish I had taken that box from Tina because I am planning a trip to Mexico, and if I get a sunburn, I know I will hear my mother say, "Just put some butter on it!"

Route 66 Diner - Stevens Point WI

Date of Visit: 03-11-2012
Time of Visit: 9:00 AM

 Pebble Score:    

It's Sunday morning and you roll out of bed with an intense itch between your legs and you know it's got to be either the crab you got last night, or a yearning to find the best pancakes around! Fortunately for me it was the yearning. Because, frankly, crabs at this point in my life, when I am weak and frail from consuming copious amounts of butter, liquor and artificial ingredients, would mean that the only benign method of treatment I could possibly subscribe to without endangering some other part of my anatomy, would be to dump sand in my trousers and let the little crab bastards stone each other to death.


Back to pancakes. I ran into a local establishment by the name of Julie's Route 66 Diner to check out their breakfast. The atmosphere was a typical diner style with random scatterings of cliches on the walls and a few boisterous locals trying to one up each other with their childhood stories and politics. I sat myself at the furthest booth from the sight of the servers and lo and behold, I was greeted with a warm smile even before my ass stopped making those annoying fart noises on the seat. 


The menu offered general diner fare with nothing that stood out as special. So I went with the chopped steak (medium), eggs over easy, hash browns, wheat toast, and yes, a side of pancakes. The coffee was hot and I never got below a half cup before the server was right there  with the pot to fill it up. Give it up for good service! The wait for my food was short and I eagerly dove right into my semi-dry overly cooked and short on flavor steak. Hopes dashed. I slathered a little butter on my pancakes to allow a little dairy goodness to soak in. The eggs were done correctly and the potatoes were warm and not drowning in diner death but they lacked flavor and were a little on the dry side. More coffee! Crap that stuff is HOT! Not used to having a continuous cup! 


I droned on with my lackluster meal and finally dove into what was, at this point, low expectations of pancakes. I was not surprised. With all semblance of a good meal apparently left in the kitchen, I noted that the butter and the little jelly containers on the all-you-can-eat jam session going on in that little jelly basket, were all brands of which I had never even heard or imagined. Something like "Bob's Warehouse Jelly" or some other non-distinct brand.  Then it occurred to me . . . there is a reason why most of the food was mediocre at best . . . low quality ingredients and a successful effort to save a penny on flavor. Filling, yes. Flavorful, no. Inexpensive, it certainly better be, but I have had better breakfasts for less money.


I have to admit, the service at this diner was by far the best I have encountered in a very long time but that alone certainly does not entice me to come back. Somehow, however, my disguise as a Wookie must have caught the attention of the owner who came over and asked if this was my first time in (was it that obvious?). She was very friendly and enthusiastic and thanked me for coming in. She also invited me back to the best fish fry in town (I had heard that one before!), but I think I will stick to my Gorton's, thank you!  Or perhaps, I'll give it another shot.


Won't you get hip to this timely tip: If you like exceptional service and a filling meal, Julie's Route 66 Diner is for you. If you want quality food and flavor with that, perhaps you should get your kicks somewhere else.