July 6, 2008
Join us at Maid-Rite
I think y’all know how we feel about Maid-Rite. There are some who question the deliciousness of the loose-meat sandwich. They live too far from Greenville, Ohio to savor a real Maid-Rite, so I forgive them. I invite you to come along with us to Maid-Rite.
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Swap you a Dubuque Maid-Rite for a Greenville Maid-Rite.
Yesterday was a good day.
I’m glad I got all prettified before we set out. I had a feeling there was some macro photography in my future.
Sheila, thanks but I’ll pass on your offer. I heard somewhere that Iowan loose-meat blows.
Hey, is that one order? Or two? Or . . . ? If that’s one order, all I want to know is this: How does MGS maintain his girlish figure?
How does MGS maintain his girlish figure?
Heh, heh, heh…
not sayin’ nuthin’
I L-O-V-E the barstool of the gentleman over MGS’s left shoulder! A classy atmosphere is key to the enjoyment of loose meat, I would reckon.
(Danny and I are embarking on “freshening up the house” room by room. Somewhere in the mix, the current living room is going to become the dining room, with table and chairs ready to seat at least 14. For the current dining room we’re envisioning a salon with four or five “clubby” chairs perhaps a central low table for “conversation.”)
We’ll see how it turns out.
Maybe Danny can work on a sophisticated Kansas City version of the loose-meat sandwich.
Perhaps a central low table for “conversation.”.
Yeah. We used one of those last night.
[...] Vampires have already established themselves in Historic Downtown Greenville (Ohio), where “shoppers enjoy friendly store-keepers (some five generations old)”. You just know that they’re [...]
All y’all are missing the overall loose-meat experience.
Lord, I love local fast food joints. Our Beefy King has killer roast beef sandwiches (heated–proudly–before your very eyes over a stainless steel contraption called “the steamer”), but loose meat is not something readily available around Orlando.
It would delight me no end to experience the fabled American road food/diner paradise, the place whose apparently myriad incarnations Jane and Michael Stern have earned a good living touting for decades. But these joints always let me down! I’m not saying that the ones I’ve encountered are worse than franchise places, mind you, just that I find them different, yet not really what I’d call better.
But I’m open. Certainly I’ll have to explore a diner or cafe or two if I continue much longer with this imaginary road film nonsense.
Stroh’s longnecks are $1.65 each. Heineken is $2.15 per bottle. I told Kathy, at these prices we could afford to hang out and get hammered, loose-meat or no. We didn’t, but we could have done so.
There was a time in my life I would have automatically ordered a Heineken based simply on what I thought was beer snobbery — and not a little amazement at finding it at a venue like Maid-Rite in Greenville (Ohio). I’m older now and what passes for wiser. Longneck Stroh’s beer just seemed right.
Sheila, maybe imaginary roads lead to imaginary diners?
Michael, the Stroh’s Longnecks were right. My roommate is a representative for a high end booze company, and we do our share of high-falutin’ drinking, but we also take a special pride in walking down to the Chevron station to grab a six pack of something cheap and American on hamburger night, sloppy joe night, or really just about any time we need a break. Cans are preferred over bottles. It’s just a different genre.
Pabst Blue Ribbon, Neighbor.
Hey, that reminds me of a funny moment chez Martin-Ryan.
Pause.
Jon picked up a $5.00 DVD of Blue Velvet at the 24-hour HyperSuperStuporStore the other night. Late. Real late. After he’d been going at least three days without sleep. Came home in the dead of night (I’d crashed out), popped it into the machine, and watched a good bit of it.
Come morning, told me, “I kept waiting for Nicholas Cage to appear and say, ‘This snakeskin jacket symbolizes my individuality and belief in personal freedom.’ Then when Dennis Hopper said, ‘Fuck Heineken! Pabst Blue Ribbon!’, I realized I was watching Blue Velvet, not Wild at Heart.”
It had been a rough week. Rough couple of weeks.
Oh, and we now refer to Blue Velvet as “the wrong movie”, much as superstitious theater folk speak of “the Scottish play”.
I like the photo where Kathy looks like she’s saying “your phone call interrupted my loose meat experience, bitch”.
That call was from our adoring son, and that is the ,“you did wha?” look. Michael has one too. The best part of that call was when I told him we were at Maid-Rite. He so sad now.