Since it was Father’s Day, I ordered the Chicken Fried Steak. An explanation is in order.
Many years ago, after I had moved to Texas, but before my mother had returned to her home state with my father who had never lived there, I had them down at my place for Christmas. I cooked some, but mostly we went around visiting and eating out.
Early on, at one restaurant, my father noticed Chicken Fried Steak on the menu. At the time this was nothing you would ever find in Indiana. He asked what it was, and when told, decided that it sounded pretty good. And it was to him. After that, at every restaurant we went to, his first words were “Do you have Chicken Fried Steak?” Hence my Father’s Day order.
But today the waitress said “Brown or white gravy?” I was totally confused and looked at CVH with a bewildered expression.
“White gravy,” she told the waitress.
“What does brown or white mean?” I asked.
“Usually the Chicken Fried Steak comes with brown gravy,” the waitress replied. I stared in disbelief.
“White gravy,” CVH repeated to the waitress.
After the waitress left, I said “And they call this Texas Roadhouse?”