Another holiday, another trip down south, another chance to blog about the peculiarities of America's favorite down-home tourist trap, Branson, MO.
OK, so I'm cheating. Lambert's Cafe is technically within the city limits of nearby Springfield. But my mom and sister always makes it a target destination every time we visit.
Every. Single. Time.
Why you ask? Do we as a family just enjoy waiting outside with 200 other strangers for an hour, then running the gauntlet to our table to order $12 entrees while underpaid high school students continually ask us if we want some sorghum? Hell, no!
We do it 'cause of the kids. The kids love it!
This year we decided to get there early and it paid dividends. By getting there at 10:30 in the morning, we were able to secure a table after only a 45 minute wait! So, after passing the time visiting a wine & cheese shop, a toy store, a furniture warehouse and a clothing consignment shop, we were primed and ready to experience the giddiness of hearing our name announced over the old-timey public address system and made our way to our seats.
After you get seated and order, an underpaid high school student in suspenders will eventually make his/her way to your table with a metal bowl filled with "pass-arounds". Now, as far as I know, these pass-arounds (not to be confused with reach-arounds, unfortunately) come from a tradition that allows subsidy-enriched farmers in the Springfield area to dump their unused cattle feed on Lambert's property, which is then scooped up, fried in hog fat, and then served to hungry customers.
Those pass-arounds are only the beginning of the Lambert's dining experience (or The Full Lambert, if you will). Soon, one of the many Lambert's worker drones (usually the prettiest male with the most complicated haircut) will delight the whole section with a display of pastry-based marksmanship that is unique (as far as I know) to this particular chain of restaurants:
After all the rolls are "throwed", all that's left is to eat your sub-standard entrée, push your way through the crowd to the exit and leave Lambert's with a little more happiness in your heart, a little more cholesterol in your veins and a lot less money in your checking account.
Bon appetite!
5 comments:
No shit: one of the trainers at work has a HUGE plastic coffee mug with Lamberts on it. The thing holds about 32 oz of java and he refills it a few times a day, seldom bothering to start a new pot after he drains it in that fucking thing. I've heard the story at least a half-dozen times about the "throwed rolls" and how "awesome" the food is there. There's always one newbie in his training class that goes "What's the deal with your fucking coffee mug?"
I have an aunt who is never seen without her 78 oz. Super Mega Gulp full of Diet Pepsi. I think it's a status thing.
I've never heard of anyone actually lugging around COFFEE in one of those things. Fuck, that's just crazy.
That's some spectacle there, boy. I've gone to so many scary places I would normally avoid because I knew my kids would love them.
I work for a certain big ten university and one of the women in my office who answers phones here, says "throwed" all the time. She's from Ottumwa, so she can't help it. I went to high school there, which means I'm allowed to talk as much shit as I want to about it. It's especially funny when she uses that word while speaking to super pretentious A-holes applying to the writer's workshop.
Did you get to see any Branson shows while there?
Not this time, we save that stuff for the summer months:
http://gottabloggottabloggottablog.blogspot.com/2008/07/breakfast-in-america-branson-part-1.html
http://gottabloggottabloggottablog.blogspot.com/2008/08/now-where-was-i.html
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