In the New South, we have so many choices on where to eat out, my Darling Beloved and I resort to the process of elimination, filtering by geography to narrow our voluminous choices.
It goes something like this:
Me: What do you want to go for dinner tonight?
DB: I don’t care. You pick a place.
Me: Ok, how about Chinese?
DB: No.
Me: How about Italian?
DB: No.
Me: How about Indian?
DB: No.
Me: How about Mexican?
DB: No.
LW: How about Thai?
DB: No.
Me: How about Japanese?
DB: No.
Me: How about Greek?
DB: No.
You get the point.
I’m old enough to remember a time when eating at a restaurant meant eating what is now classified as a “Meat and Three.” Other than fast food, that’s about all there was. And you were sure happy to eat there.
This week I had the opportunity to eat a classic meat-and-three lunch not once, but twice. I’m sure I’ll be scheduling a coronary check up soon as a result. And, yes, I got the cornbread both times… for the sake of comparison, mind you. I’m nothing if not a cornbread scientist.
I had the pleasure of spending time in Macon, Ga., known in the parlance as “my old stomping grounds.” It’s where I met the aforementioned Darling Beloved, launched my career at that bastion of community journalism “The Macon Telegraph,” and started our family with the arrival of Barron, the first of our three boys. I have strong nostalgia for Macon. Just ask my boss who I subjected to a trip down memory lane while there for a conference.
When settling on our lunching arrangements, he specifically requested a “Macon experience.” Since Mercer University was co-hosting the event (with Wesleyan College), I felt it was only right for him to experience the Bear’s Den. It did not disappoint.
I went in with the intention of getting the veggie plate but the fried chicken, dark meat of course, was calling to me. When they gave me a thigh and two drumsticks, I had the intention of just eating the thigh. When they asked “What kind of bread?” and not “Would you like bread?” I had the intention of skipping the unnecessary carbs. You’ll be pleased to know that the road to caloric hell is paved with good intentions. I succumbed on all accounts.
I did not wash it down with sweet tea, however. I am not a twentysomething cub reporter any more, and setting off that caloric bomb would have put me in a stupor for the afternoon meetings.
The Bear’s Den’s trademark friendliness aided our digestion. We were barraged with “Hun,” and “Baby” while being smiled at relentlessly. Maybe they were laughing to themselves at two fellas in suits who were definitely going to get grease on themselves, but everyone was so nice and chatty. It wasn’t just lunch, it was stepping back in time to a friendlier age when Southern hospitality wasn’t so unusual it was mentioned in a world famous blog.
I followed up the Bear’s Den on Tuesday with a trip to Matthews Cafeteria in downtown Tucker on Thursday. A few of us from the office found our way there, less than 48 hours after the gluttonous Bear’s Den feast. This time I held my ground when the fried chicken sang its siren’s song. I went with the veggie plate: brown rice (vegetable? At least I didn’t go with mac-n-cheese, also listed as a vegetable option), broccoli casserole and green beans. This order required corn bread for the purpose of comparison, like I said, and for sopping up stuff and shoving it onto the fork. This is the way.
Both meals were delicious in their own way, and the experience shared with colleagues and friends made it even better. I left both lunches not just feeling full of food but full of positive energy. I had enough self control to stay away from the desert, but that blackberry cobbler some of my colleagues indulged in was definitely enticing.
Here in the cultural center of the universe, Lilburn, Georgia, we have Always Fresh, a favorite when we’re seeking comfort food. It, too, is consistently good. I’m going to get in there soon to compare their cornbread to Matthews’ and the Bear’s Den’s while the memory is fresh. For the record, the cornbread was great at both, but maybe just a smidge better at Matthews.
I may have blown my caloric limits this week, but the strain on my cardiovascular system was eased by all the charm and goodwill. A meat and three may not be in the restaurant rotation every week, but they certainly deserve consideration when my Darling Beloved turns up her nose at the rest of the world’s cuisine.
Where is your favorite meet-and-three? What do you order when you go? And when you get the fried chicken, do you go for light or dark meat? Leave a comment and let us know!
New South Essays 