A Visit to Perkins (Restaurant not town)

Good day SofaKing amazing readers and welcome to another collection of words formed into a story from your favorite Uncle Bud. Today we will be discussing the culinary experience that is Perkins Restaurant and Bakery.

A little history of Perkins from their website states:

"Founded in 1958 as a single pancake house in Ohio, Perkins has transformed into the nation's leading family restaurant. And when we say that, we aren’t joking. With nearly 300 company-owned and franchised locations in 32 states and two Canadian provinces, we’re pretty proud of how far we’ve come. Through the years, Perkins has remained true to its mission of providing guests with friendly service and classic comfort dishes at a great price. Sure, Perkins started with dozens of pancake and waffle options, but soon enough we grew to offer American staples like breakfast all day, hearty steak plates, juicy burgers, and a wide selection of handcrafted handhelds, soups, and salads. The most iconic piece of Perkins Bakery is, you guessed it, our pie. Our in-store bakery offers a wide selection of fruit pies, cream pies, dreamy pies, along with scrumptious cookies, and our signature Mammoth Muffins®. Our goal has always been to leave guests feeling satisfied, which means we’re always updating our menu with fresh, flavorful, and innovative items that take their place right next to our classic, beloved menu items. Some of our most iconic dishes have been on the menu for more than 30 years. Pretty sweet, huh? At Perkins, we take great pride in our service, experience, and feeding folks what they like. It’s the cornerstone of our company, and the thing that keeps us going after all these years."

Now readers, as I am sure you are aware that most self descriptions of establishments on their own website tends to be rather superfluous regarding the actual experience one can expect. Fortunately for you, Uncle Bud has not only been to Perkins (restaurant not town) on two separate occasions. To set the ambiance for the visits, both were after a long evening of revelry, imbibing of alcohol and overall enjoyment of adult activities. For the most part, the clientele also partaking of Perkins (restaurant not town) seemed to be enjoying similar activities.

In other words, this is a place to go after a night out in order to soak up some of the alcohol consumed in an effort to negate the hangover after waking up the next morning.

My first visit to Perkins (restaurant not town) was in 1994 at the original location in Cincinnati, OH. To the readers that have not been to Cincinnati, please note that if you should happen to find yourself in that city and must eat, stick to franchises that you know and love, DO NOT BRANCH OUT AND ESPECIALLY DO NOT GO TO ANY PLACE THAT OFFERS CINCINNATI STYLE CHILI. Cincinnati style chili does not resemble any form of chili any self respecting human nor their dog should or would consume. It's flavored with cinnamon and brown sugar, which should be listed on the door before entering and had it been would have saved your Uncle Bud an afternoon in the Cincinnati jail only to be released when he provided the judge a sample of true chili as prepared by Uncle Bud.

Anywho, being a lover of historical sites, as was my guest, Hombre Lobo, we decided to experience the offerings of the restaurant and bakery after an evening at a local music venue enjoying the music of Cincinnati's own Ass Ponys , Greenhorns and Afghan Whigs. Hombre Lobo is a fan of blueberry pancakes and opted for that platter which included two eggs and a breakfast meat. Myself, I prefer good ole American red meat and selected the sirloin steak meal, ordered medium rare of course.

After giving our order, we looked around the restaurant and noticed a mixture of stoned metal head teenagers, women dressed quite scantily while wearing layers of makeup generally reserved for female televangelists or pre-teen beauty pageant contests as well as a woman with two young children.

The woman with the children was having some sort of a conversation with one of the children, the subject of which was unknown until the child yelled "IT'S PEE!!" The mother screamed back, "It's not pee, just drink your Mountain Dew." Hombre Lobo, who also ordered a Mountain Dew, decided to just stick with water as I stirred my black coffee.

Our food arrived after a considerable wait, Hombre Lobo's "blueberry pancakes" were actually raisin pancakes and my steak which was ordered medium rare came out just short of being able to be called a shingle. When we inquired our server about what she had brought, she shrugged her shoulders and explained that the head chef had been going through a hard time ever since his girlfriend had left him and took his dog.

Needless to say, HL and I did not eat what was served, paid our bill and walked out vowing never to return again.

As the saying goes, never say never and a couple years later I was in Cedar Rapids, IA where I was showing farmers revolutionary corn growing techniques that I had learned during my tenure as a freight train conductor in the hills of Bardi, Italy, I met a lovely woman who shall remain nameless. After an evening of Czech and Slovak dancing, my date was hungry and as we were driving to a location she saw a Perkins restaurant and mentioned that she hadn't been to one since she was a child. Always one to ensure the happiness and satisfaction of the female species, I pulled into the parking lot praying that the Cincinnati incident was isolated.

We were promptly seated and given menus as glasses of water were provided. Shortly thereafter, our male waiter came to ask us for our order. The exchange went like this:

Waiter: Hello have you made any decisions for tonight?

Lovely Lady: I see that spaghetti is listed as one of your specialties.

W: Yes it is and it's pretty fresh too.

LL: Ok do you have meatballs to go with it?

W: No, but you can meet DEEZ balls (gesturing to his genital area and slamming the table with his hands)

In the blink of an eye, the waiter's head met the very table his hands were just hitting as his legs were taken out from underneath him with such force that one shoe was eventually found across the restaurant. In an effort to remain humble and not advocate violence in any manner, it will suffice to say that shortly after that the waiter acknowledged his improprieties and apologized profusely to the Lovely Lady and begged me to release him from the Tibetan Pinky Finger Paralysis technique I had perfected while serving as a sherpa for trekkers climbing Mount Everest.

Over the years, I have been able to visit Perkins, town not restaurant, many times. While it is not on par with a city like Kingfisher, it certainly does not deserve to be confused with the restaurant, Perkins, as you can surmise by my experiences noted above.

Editor's Note: The locations, dates, and any other references have been changed in order to ensure privacy and save embarrassment of certain waiters who possess a penchant of making inappropriate statements to women.