Fried Green Tomatoes: Overrated

You may well wonder why no personal pictures yet. Because uploading them, sorting them, and inserting them would be way too much like work. This trip is enough work already. Maybe if we get stuck indoors on a rainy day. So far we've spent all our rainy days driving.

But enough about logistics. This entry is all about lunch. In Mississippi. Our second special meal was in Robinsonville, at the Hollywood Cafe. We saw this on "Fried Food Heaven" on the Travel Channel, same show that had Dyer's Burgers. We drove back down into Mississippi from Memphis to find this unique alimentary experience.

This is it: http://www.thehollywoodcafe.com/

Our pictures look exactly the same, I swear to God. Nothing about this place ever changes, apparently.


Of course, we didn't eat inside, because we had the dogs along. I thought they could stay in their cages, in the van, with the back door and windows all open, under a tree. It was an overcast, breezy day in a tiny, nearly dead town in the middle of nowhere. But Joyce, ever concerned that everyone everywhere will all do the wrong thing at the exact same time, insisted we get takeout and eat it standing up in the alley behind the restaurant. This was all that saved the puppies from being let loose or shot by passing enraged casino goers returning broke from Tunica, escapees from federal prisons, local Klansmembers, and geeezers from the VA off their meds.

As you can see on their site, the big draw is the fried dill pickle. Actually, pickle slices. I hate pickles and we had never tried fried green tomatoes in all of our combined 121 years on this planet, so we ordered those, and fried chicken dinners, cheerfully served in the alley, by a waiter, on styrofoam. Fried green tomatoes are as slimy as okra, but not as hairy. So we ate only one each, which is how we knew not to eat any more. The chicken dinners, however, were excellent.

Then we drove back to Memphis, with several stops along the way to photograph weird signs representative of the local culture, and I promise these will be worth seeing when I get them up here.





Also filled the tank and bought fresh baby carrots and chocolate for the kids and us in West Memphis, which is the Black part of the metropolitan area. Every place we went, we were the only white people, and everyone stared at us, apparently thinking we were lost. No, just shopping, thanks. The only people who bother me here in the Deep South are white trash, because they're historically dangerous and violent. If we're in among minorities, we feel safe. After all, we're minorities ourselves, which most people, except maybe Sudanese cab drivers, seem to grasp the minute we open our mouths.

And that was our whole day, along with napping, reading and getting ready to drive through Arkansas to Branson. We'll write all about that tomorrow.