At times I tend to wax poetic about certain things. The color of leaves in Fall, the love of a mother for her child, or a really good cuppa coffee that brings a tear to my eye.
Let me introduce the latest.
Chubby's is a midtown joint that has been only a stone's throw away from me for the past six years. Day in and day out, it sat there patiently waiting for me. It wasn't pushy. It just kept serving up down-home food 24 hours a day, knowing that somehow, someday I'd come through those doors.
And when I did we'd be one forever.
And Chubby's was right. They consider me a regular now.
It's not really my fault, though.
The Chubster has GOOD food. Meatloaf. Liver and onions (stop groaning - you haven't tasted THEIR liver and onions). Salisbury steak with mushroom gravy. Fresh salads. All-day breakfasts. Stuff like Mom used to make back before I had to cook every night after working all day.
And get this - REAL mashed potatoes. These puppies don't come out of a box.
Portions are big enough to split into two meals on the specials of the day. The only really bad thing I've had is the broccoli with cheese sauce. It's nasty. The rest of it is wonderful.
The prices are extremely reasonable as well. That's why you'll find my big enormous behind up on one of the swiveling barstools at lunchtime at least twice a week.
If you see me, look away fast. I wouldn't want Hubster to think the Chubster and I had a thing going.
Even though we do.