When eating out was truly special

Sometimes you hear one of those South Arkansas stories that just makes you laugh. I heard one this week, and I can’t stop laughing about it. Here’s the story — it’s one of those “we were so poor” tales that some of us older people tell the young’uns: “We were so poor that we couldn’t even afford a chicken house, so the chickens had to roost under the well house. That meant me and my brother had to take turns getting up off and on during the night to turn the chickens so they wouldn’t poop in the well.” Those folks trusted chickens a lot more than I do. Or really depended on eggs to have something to eat. I’m going with the later explanation.

And speaking of being poor and eating, that leads me right into a couple of stories of my own. We never got to eat in a restaurant when I was growing up, so the few times I got food that my mother or grandmother didn’t cook, it was quite exciting. Let me say this — there were very few people who could cook better than my grandma, “Tootsie,” and my mother, “Rosie,” wasn’t a slouch either when it came to the culinary arts of the Deep South (think fried chicken and fried okra, mashed or sweet potatoes, greens, etc.) and serving up some fine food.

My point was that because getting to eat something different, other than at the school cafeteria, was such an unusual occurrence, it turned out to be quite an experience. Let me back up and say the food at the McNeil School cafeteria was pretty darn good itself, and I’m convinced those second and third helpings were a life saver for many young people who went to school there. I won’t call any names on those third helpings — you know who you are.

Back to the story, I really looked forward to those Friday nights when my mother would stop by Yowell’s Tastee Freeze on her way home from work and bring us the five-hamburgers-for-a-dollar deal. To be honest, those weren’t huge hamburgers, but they were darn tasty. Mr. Yowell didn’t use that “Tastee” name for nothing — he meant it. And I know he’d be happy to see an establishment operating at that same location after all these years, still serving good food and still waving to you when your order is ready.

That was probably the eating out highlight for me until I went to work for the Pizza Q. I can tell you from experience, those pizzas and Nero sandwiches made there were some of the best ever. I wish I could get that sour dough bread again, and that olive spread, though — it was homemade from a secret recipe. Good doesn’t begin to describe the taste. And for those of you who gave me a ride home after I finished cleaning up every night, I want to thank you. Though I did make y’all some awesome sandwiches and pizzas at the time.

After I left the Pizza Q and went to work at Mack’s 66 Truck Stop, the 66 Kitchen was the restaurant of record for me. That was a neat place with a miniature juke box in each booth that allowed you to buy songs that played on the main juke box along with the breakfast that was served all night long.

Montene Allen, self-identified as the “Red Witch” to those of you too young to know, was the lead waitress there and commanded the attention and respect of all who visited that establishment. She would become the owner before all was said and done, so that should tell you everything you need to know about Montene. She was a true diamond in the rough, as they say. And if she told you to do something, which she didn’t mind doing, you did it. And she kept you in stitches with that personality. Even after I retired from the post office, she would still call me occasionally at home and ask me to deliver her a book of stamps. I considered that an honor.

My stint at the truck stop ended when I got a job at the Union Bus Station. Thanks, Danny Brazell. That turned out to be a great job, and the flexible hours and weekend work allowed me to get some pretty hefty (for me) paychecks. That meant I was finally able to fulfill a long-held dream, and that was to get a big ribeye steak at the Chatterbox. Yes, I did it and was not disappointed. I still remember that steak being one of the best I’ve ever had. For some reason those older memories are more clear to me than some things that happened yesterday. That’s another one of those tricks age plays on you, I guess.

During that time period, another favorite was the pie at Bourdier’s Restaurant. Yes, pie. I know that’s not the best reason for eating at a restaurant, but it’s a darn good one. The rest of the food was good, too, but those pies, though. And then there was Casey’s BBQ, the descendent of Casey’s A&W Root Beer. That place served up some great food, but nothing could ever take the place of the A&W. I’m pretty sure I went into a state of depression when that place closed. Those frosted glass mugs, filled with root beer and ice cream, were incomparable. On a hot day or after a busy night of roller skating, a root beer float just made you feel good. Or it did me.

There were other great places to eat in Magnolia during those times, but these were some of the ones that made a lifelong impression on me. And I just want to give a big shout-out to the people who spend so much time and effort preparing food and drink for other folks. You are appreciated, even if you don’t know it, and I bet you’ve made a lifelong impression on someone, too.

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