multi-hyphenated-me

the hyphens that define my life

Attack of the Grandmas and Grandpas September 12, 2013

Spokane has an incredible amount of restaurants.  Not the corporate chain dining variety either, though that type is here too.  The restaurants in Spokane are primarily independent restaurants, some family owned, some just a chef and a dream.  Because there are so many restaurants, we have decided no repeat visits unless the restaurant is unanimously agreed to by our family as absolutely terrific. Not many unanimously pass the test as we have a diverse batch of taste buds in our family fivesome.

Tonight was not a planned dinner out, but it was 95 degrees today, Vince was busy, so the boys and I decided to venture out and grab a meal.  Andre was on a one way path directed straight for a chicken pot pie.  The trick is, finding a chicken pot pie is not so easy the final days of summer.   There’s this little restaurant near our house that had a yelp review as a “Grandma restaurant”. If any place would have pot pie on the menu, this would be my best shot.  

A Grandma’s restaurant it was indeed!  Wall to wall silver hair matched the wall to wall industrial carpet.  My boys were the youngest in the room.

Two minutes before walking in the door and they were messing around and driving me batty.  Then, we walk in, all the old eyes looked our way and bip-bam-boom, the boys pulled their acts together and fell in line.  Old lady hands reached out to them to say hello as they walked by and my boys were kind and considerate and loudly spoke hello.  Once one lady got a handshake, the whole row we passed held out a hand or patted them on the back.

The boys’ eyes were as big as saucers when we finally got to our table, asking me what kind of place is this? Andre commented “This restaurant is full of grandmas and grandpas!”  Of course I’m laughing and telling them it is the best restaurant ever.

The need for pot pie vanished as Andre’s love for dinosaur chicken reigned supreme.  Really?  I’ve left the comfort of my home for dinosaur chicken?  All entrees came with peaches, pears or green beans if that is any indication of the menu selection.

There was a table of three ladies that walked in right before us.  They only ordered dessert and the boys were impressed with their choices and could hardly wait to finish their meal.  Like a cafeteria, this restaurant served anything pre-made, canned or frozen and reheated.  Even their pies were purchased across the street from the grocery store. 

In spite of my years of hard kitchen labor to produce incredible dinners, my boys loved their meals. Our dinner took longer than usual to eat as every time a group got up to leave, they purposefully walked by our table to say that they had been admiring my boys, or what good boys I have or to tell them to be good to their mom (my personal favorite).  All the grandpas shook the boys hands or patted their backs and the grandmas squeezed their shoulders or tousled their hair.  By the end of our meal, the boys were forewarning each other “Here they come behind Niko,” “on your left, Trace.”

The boys then ordered dessert – the Brownie Thrill – a brownie with ice cream and a ridiculous amount of whipped cream piled high.  This sent the old folks into a tizzy and gave them such joy to watch the boys mow down their treats.

When we finally “escaped,” the boys all agreed we would never go back.  I think I found my favorite new restaurant.  Not for the food, that’s for certain, but for the ambience and entertainment, albeit torture, for my boys.  Attack of the Grandmas and Grandpas is the best.

Advertisements
 

One Response to “Attack of the Grandmas and Grandpas”

  1. Jill Schwab Says:

    Awe!!! Love it!! 😉


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s