I've found that in their absence, we really miss certain restaurants. We have a good friend, Julie, who's a big fan of Sonic. In our travels, it was a thing for both of us to report Sonic sightings and post a selfie with a large Slush on social media. A classmate of mine who watched this exchange didn't understand the fixation.
"But...it's just a Sonic."
"Yeah, but you have them all around you. I'd have to drive 100 miles to get a Blue Coconut Slush!"
"Ah. I guess it's the same way I feel about Popeye's" I felt genuinely bad for her. The Lonestar State may have many things, but it ain't got a Popeye's in West Texas.
On a side note, Julie is also a fan of Waffle House, similarly posting sitings and visits on her news feed. Because of her embracing of this exemplar of Southern fare, I requested honorary Southern citizenship be bestowed on this native New Yorker. She'll be pleased with the privileges the office affords which includes the license to use, "Awww, bless your heart."
Whenever Andrea and I roll through Auburn, there are two must-hit restaurants. One is Niffer's, the site of our first date. The other is a chicken finger house named Guthrie's. I can't explain the obsession because Guthrie's basic offering is simply battered and fried chicken tenders, a slice of Texas toast, and coleslaw. Maybe they lace the dipping sauce with addictive mojo seasoning. Whatever the case, Guthrie's chicken fingers rank high on our list of comfort foods.
There are 49 locations with the largest cluster around Auburn, Alabama. One of the furthest outposts from Tiger Town ground zero is tucked away in the far northwest corner of Georgia. When Andrea and I discovered this, we detoured just to hit the secret sauce one more time before returning to the barrenness of the Mid-Atlantic.
I've had in-depth conversations with two classmates, Ken and Brad, about the virtue of Guthrie's and the woeful absence of the chicken finger house this far north. Brad spent years in Mobile and we went back and forth as he championed the local favorite, Foosackly's. Ken then gave me actionable intel.
"Have you checked out Royal Farms? You know they've got chicken fingers, right?"
Holy Hannah. I did not.
Royal Farms is a Baltimore headquartered version of 7-11, and they are everywhere in these parts. I was very hopeful as I got my first batch, but they were just OK. It was like having etouffee made from a recipe from the New York Times - passable, but not the genuine article.
I'd resigned myself to not getting the real deal unless we were way south of the Mason-Dixon.
One day my news feed, usually stocked with dire tidings of wars, rising interest rates, and government shutdowns, delivered some unexpectedly delectable news. A Raising Cane's franchise was opening 20 minutes away.
Raising Cane's is far and away not Guthrie's. However, beggars can't be choosers, and Cane's did base itself on the original Guthrie's in Haleyville, Alabama. More importantly, in our chicken house meanderings, Andrea and I rated Cane's above Zaxby's (too salty) and Foosackley's (sorry, Brad).
I watched the calendar, gleefully ticking off days until the opening like a crazy Southern Advent calendar.
When the glorious day arrived, we giddily drove over. But as we pulled up, we were utterly flabbergasted. The parking lot was overflowing. A solid line of cars wrapped around the restaurant twice and overflowed onto the street. A cop was present to direct traffic because the serpentine line of cars full of people jonesing for the good stuff continued to spill out onto the main highway.
As a southern ex-pat living far from the southland, I assumed this low-brow cuisine would fly under people's radar this far north. But as I beheld this unexpected throng of people queueing for some southern goodness, I experienced a weird mixture of pride and annoyance - kinda like seeing a bunch of northern license plates down at Gulf Shores.
Now if only a Krispy Kreme would open nearby.
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