South Dakota value meal
The locally-owned grocery chain has in its parking lots a little red barn they like to call the snack shack. From 11 a.m. until 2 p.m. (or when the food runs out), there's a worker who grills bratwurst and hamburgers on a grill. A hamburger or a brat is $2.
A meal deal is $3.
With the meal deal, you get a brat (or burger), a 24-ounce pop (had to revert back to calling it that, I said soda and they kinda look at you funny) and a big bag of Old Dutch chips (five flavors to choose from).
Go by at lunch at hte downtown store and you'll see lawyers in suits and ties, homeless guys - and on Monday, the parks department lawn crew, who parked their mowers in a line - all eating at wooden picnic tables together.
There's even daily specials.
Fridays are cheddar brat days.
That's a brat - these things are homemade in the meat department mind you - with chunks of cheddar in it.
(You have to let it cool before you bite into it, or else you run the risk of hitting a molten pocket of cheese that'll melt the skin on the roof of your mouth.)
"Let's go get a brat," a buddy said Friday. Others followed.
It was on the late side of lunch and they were out of burgers (not that they couldn't walk across the parking lot and replenish the cow, but we didn't ask) and they had a single cheddar brat left.
"I do have some prime rib slices grilling up, plenty of that if you want a sandwich," the griller said.
"How much is a prime rib sandwich?" we asked.
"Oh, three bucks."
"How much for a meal?"
"Oh, three bucks."
"That's what I'll have," my buddy said, grinning at me.
"Make it two," I said.
"I'll take the last brat," my other buddy said.
The guy filled a brat bun with a slab of prime rib, medium rare. Little steak sauce, some onions and tomato slices and we grabbed a table.
"This is amazing," my buddy said, dazed nearly into a meaty coma. "For three bucks."
Back at the office, I look up from my computer and my buddy has a strange little smile on his face. It's like 5 p.m.
"You know, I'm still riding that sandwich," he said.
I ended up not eating dinner.
A meal deal is $3.
With the meal deal, you get a brat (or burger), a 24-ounce pop (had to revert back to calling it that, I said soda and they kinda look at you funny) and a big bag of Old Dutch chips (five flavors to choose from).
Go by at lunch at hte downtown store and you'll see lawyers in suits and ties, homeless guys - and on Monday, the parks department lawn crew, who parked their mowers in a line - all eating at wooden picnic tables together.
There's even daily specials.
Fridays are cheddar brat days.
That's a brat - these things are homemade in the meat department mind you - with chunks of cheddar in it.
(You have to let it cool before you bite into it, or else you run the risk of hitting a molten pocket of cheese that'll melt the skin on the roof of your mouth.)
"Let's go get a brat," a buddy said Friday. Others followed.
It was on the late side of lunch and they were out of burgers (not that they couldn't walk across the parking lot and replenish the cow, but we didn't ask) and they had a single cheddar brat left.
"I do have some prime rib slices grilling up, plenty of that if you want a sandwich," the griller said.
"How much is a prime rib sandwich?" we asked.
"Oh, three bucks."
"How much for a meal?"
"Oh, three bucks."
"That's what I'll have," my buddy said, grinning at me.
"Make it two," I said.
"I'll take the last brat," my other buddy said.
The guy filled a brat bun with a slab of prime rib, medium rare. Little steak sauce, some onions and tomato slices and we grabbed a table.
"This is amazing," my buddy said, dazed nearly into a meaty coma. "For three bucks."
Back at the office, I look up from my computer and my buddy has a strange little smile on his face. It's like 5 p.m.
"You know, I'm still riding that sandwich," he said.
I ended up not eating dinner.
Comments
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Thanks for the read.