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. 

Angel's Hwy 63 Diner - Ellsworth, WI

Date of Visit: 03-14-2012

Time of Visit: 1:45 PM

Pebble Score:

I have a job. Unlike many of the folk that frequent Angel's. I'm not saying that they're lazy, I mean, they probably had jobs at one time, but now they just sit around and talk about politics, how the country's gone all to crap, and what color, shape and texture their bowl movement was this morning. And, they wait. They wait for that next social security check to hit their meager bank accounts before it's off to Walmart for an afternoon of fun and frolic. Then they wait again. I sit and wait. Does an angel contemplate my fate? Perhaps. 

Angel's Hwy 63 Diner. I discovered this little side of the road cafe while working in the area and decided to stop and give it a try. The gravel parking lot was a yesteryear's welcome mat and the cars, of which none were of foreign descent, were lined up like a pile of wooden blocks in the losers' bracket at the international Jenga tournament. This was going to be interesting! 

As I walked in, I was visually accosted. My remaining youth suddenly sucked away by the soulful eyes of the patrons who gazed upon me. Perhaps they looked to me to see if I had come bearing news of a pool where they could swim and become energized with youthful vigor. 

The decor matched the enthusiasm in the room as did the free wifi. I seated myself and was promptly greeted with warmth by the matriarch of the group who's name I could only assume was Methuselah. Maty, as I had chosen to refer to her, was friendly and treated me like family. I ordered the hamburger and hand cut fries, and waited. Surprisingly, the wait was only about 10 minutes and my food come out hot and appetizing. 

The burger was not too dry and the words "mom burger" came to mind as the patty was hand formed, the lettuce was crisp and the tomato was fresh and still cold. The bun was toasted but commercially made and the hand cut potatoes, although only single fried, were flavorful and a little limp. Overall a decent burger and fries plate at a very reasonable cost. If you prefer crispy fries, this is certainly not a place for you. However, if you like laid back service, overhearing first hand accounts of the Great Depression, and breakfast served all day, than give Angel's a try. 

As I paid for my meal, in complete shock that they accepted forms of payment other than fattened swines and buttercup coned roosters (which I was well prepared for, BTW), I couldn't help but cast a pitied look back at my fellow patrons as they faded back into their cocoons of hell and waited for their only remaining chance at life . . . Walmart.