I'm begining to think I just wasn't meant to go there. That’s two days in a row. Ok, Friday wasn’t my fault. I’m pretty sure RB took down that bridge for his own nefarious reasons.
But, we got across the bridge lickity split on Saturday around 2:30. Know why there’s no traffic then. Cause you can’t get a bite to eat at many of the fine restaurants in Louisville between 2:30 and 5:00. Many don’t open at all until 5:00.
I’m not trying to say they should. I’m sure they know what they’re doing. I just wish I could remember they’re doing it! Or not doing it. Whatever
So, ever the resourceful guy I detour to a spot I’ve been dying to try out. It’s well known here by the cultured elite of epicureans for its Chicago themed menu. YES! Lonnie’s Best Taste of Chicago. HOTDOGS!!!!
As we walked in the place my wife asks me “do you think they’ll give me a hard time if I order it with ketchup only?” Noooo sweetie I’m sure they get that all the time (poor thing I know I’m ordering first).
There’s a bit of a delay in getting our order taken as some poor girl has managed to spill all of her soda on the table and it was spreading across the floor. The atmosphere was a bit tense as her father apologized for the accident. No problem the middle-aged black man behind the counter says in a gravely “this time but don‘t make a habit of it” sort of voice. Lonnie himself I’m betting.
He turns to me and levels a steely glare, “what can I get you?” We’ve all encountered this kind of thing where you are expected to know what you want and how to order it. I’ve got this covered as I’ve seen some recommendations on here before and we’ve actually had a minute to look at the menu while the mess was being attended to. The Clark St I say. Fries? he says. Yes, whatever comes with it is fine… just point that glare somewhere else please or there my be another cleanup necessary.
My wife nearly whispers the last part of her order (with ketchup only?). Lonnie at first seems not to have heard her. “Come again,” he says looking like he just caught a whiff of an unpleasant odor. I think my wife’s courage may have failed her then but it seems he did hear her after all.
Lonnie points over to a large poster on the wall and says in a very loud “Samuel L. Jackson wrath of God voice” …. “This dog is rated NK-17, ketchup will not be served for anyone under the age of 17 on these premises (something like that anyway). I goggle at the sign which looks completely genuine like any mass produced movie poster and for a second I think “is he really serious ?” then I glance back at Lonnie.
My wife gathers her courage and says “I’m under 17.… in my mind ….where food is concerned” and smiles brightly (ok a little desperately). I’m quite proud of her and anyway he’s no longer looking at me. Lonnie finally smiles and turns to the short order cook and snarls “and one with ….ketchup if it will take it.”
Lonnie turned out to be quite funny and the dogs were great. I had the Clark St which is the true Chicago style. Dense Vienna beef, little miniature peppers, cukes, some kind of relish that sported tiny neon green cubes (the color of infant toys) that under other circumstances it would never occur to me to put in my mouth (not since I was six months old anyway). It was great! What about yours babe?
My wife’s only remark “next time I’m getting the big one.”
