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an actual world of biscuits

Listening to:	Cold, cold, cold, Little Feat
Reading:	Empire
Weather:	64, sunny

West Virginians, you can probably safely skip this post. You're already hip. But for people who have never experienced a world of freakin biscuits, get ready to drool.

I traveled about 3 hours southwest on Wednesday evening for work. I was scheduled to present a couple of workshops on Thursday morning at the annual SeniorCon in Ripley at Cedar Lakes state park. I had never been to Cedar Lakes, since the con has always been at Jackson's Mill since I've been part of it. Relatively long drive, but pretty pleasant, I spent most of it on 50 West, a nice wide gently curvy divided highway with very little traffic ever.

The park is pretty groovy, very flat, a bit like Jackson's Mill in that there's a lodge (this one is significantly more modern and comfortable), cabins, dorms, many varying sized buildings for classes and assemblies, big dining hall (this one's cafeteria style rather than the Mill's family style). There is also a bigger variety of rec stuff to do, a pool, some fishing ponds, miniature golf, etc. I got to kick it on bench by the pond and watch the pink blue moon come up over the tall cedars. Blue because it was the 2d full moon in the month, pink cuz it was actually pink.

Bla bla bla, get thee to the biscuitry. The next afternoon as I left the cute little town of Ripley (which you won't see if you follow the park website's directions, oddly) I was thinking I might stop for food around Parkersburg. But just then I saw a Tudor's Biscuit World on the right. I whipped my car in there and locked my car, though it probably was totally unnecessary, and headed in to stand in line.

Tudor's. It's World of freakin Biscuits, yo. I'm not talking about those little hockey pucks you get at KFC or something. These are giant, not perfectly round, buttery hunks of carb and fat heaven. Like a fine wine, these bad boys provide a mouthful of many flavors in every bite. Golden brown edges, flakey crumbly chunks, slightly crunchy bits, soft hunks in the middle, make you want to slap your mama. And that's just the biscuit itself, what makes it a WORLD is all the stuff you can get inside this vessel of perfection.

And the names. My personal favorite is the Dottie. Dottie gives ya egg, cheese, and a hash brown patty up on that fine thang. Those in the know ask for the egg scrambled, not poached. But you can get any manner of meats, cheese, even apples, and of course gravy. The menu includes non-biscuitry, as well, though why in the crazy biscuit world would you ever not order a biscuit. But if you lost your freakin mind and wanted meatloaf, or soup beans and cornbread, barbecue, or a muffin, Tudor's will dish it up for ya. As I waited in line (this joint was jumpin, most tables in the tiny store full of smiling chunky customers), I perused the menu, gotta have something to read while you wait in this world. Hot Bologna Sandwich. For real. With onions, lettuce, and sauce. Hmmm. Can't say I've ever had a hot bologna sandwich, or ever thought I'd want one, but I was intrigued by the mysterious and vague "sauce."

Kind reader, I regret to inform you that you will not now learn any more about the mystery of the sauce. And admittedly it was pretty cold of me to tease you like that. But I was just trying to bring you back into my Ripley Tudor's moment there. And I, too, am still in the dark about that sandwich, since just a few short moments later I ordered up my Dottie, scrambled, and an unsweet tea, to go. No banter about the sauce, and no glimpses of sandwiches containing said sauce, it was a gravy kinda crowd in there today.

So I got my little bag and headed out, past the queue, which now actually went out the door and included 3 women who could only have been triplets. Also intriguing. There were either very old or old for their ages, they each sported lots of very deep wrinkles all over their tanned faces. It made them look a bit like they were scowling, but I don't think they really were. And honestly they looked damn near identical, seriously triplets, or at the very least twins and a close sister. Very cool.

Out the door, past the triplets I go, out in to the very not-cool sunny sticky day into my hot car, northbound and down. I've got A/C, so I cranked it. Once I got my bearings, I reached for that bag, and Dottie and I headed home, leaving a few savory crumbs by the gear shift.

permalink posted by cat 8:21 AM

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