The eating day started out innocently enough: a bowl of Rice Krispies, some OJ, some coffee. But it all went to digestive inferno after we headed to the Curious Kids Museum in St. Joseph, Michigan.
The museum itself was a blast. Addison had fun. Colin had fun. Everybody had fun and not a calorie was consumed. Then we headed to Roxy Burgers for lunch, and here’s how it broke down:
Chili cheese dog. Onion rings. Large Coke. Remnant fries. Remnant ice cream . . . with sprinkles. I don’t eat chili cheese dogs. I tried one 11 years ago, didn’t like it, and gave them up without even feeling the need to swear them off. But for some reason, seeing “CHILI CHEESE DOG” spelled out in red plastic letters proved too oddly compelling to resist. And I loved that chili cheese dog.
We returned home and made plans with my dad to meet for dinner at Quaker Steak & Lube. I had never been to Quaker Steak & Lube, but you don’t go into a meal at a place called Quaker Steak & Lube expecting to eat like a bunny. And unless bunnies routinely scarf down chicken enchilada soup, an 8-oz. steak (medium), an enormous pile of gravy-laden mashed potatoes, and four lemonades (they stick a half-lemon atop each one, and they’re really good) without leaving the tiniest shred of leftovers, I outstripped those leporine expectations.
Then my dad, Heather, Addison, Colin, and I finalized the meal by sharing a triple rich brownie with vanilla bean ice cream. My belly was hurtin’, but my mouth was in heaven. Seriously, go to Quaker Steak & Lube and ask for the Triple Rich Brownie. Abandon all pretense, culture, and whatever other shallow tides of cultured self-righteousness have caused you to turn your nose up at the QS&L and their TRB . . . go get yourself one. If you have the means, I highly recommend it . . . it’s so choice.
Fifteen hours later, I’m still full. But it was still worth it.