I live in the West. I love the West. Mostly, I dig everything about the West. But eating out in the West? Ha! Although there are many positives to living in smaller western towns, dining out is certainly not one of them. When looking for lobster or “something French,” you know you’re in Horse Creek when three of the six restaurants listed in the phone book are McDonald’s, Ray’s IGA Deli, and the Pla-Mor Café inside the Pla-Mor Bowling Alley. Options are few in most smallvilles. If a place is lucky enough to hold a Taco Bell or a Pizza Hut, then the owners are riding high in the saddle; they have the market cornered. There are no complaints from locals about the quality of bean burritos or pepperoni pizzas. It is the best such food in town and it is the worst such food in town because it is the only such food in town. If the folks don’t like the grub or service they get in Red Rock, then they can drive two or three counties over to Dead Skunk, where the grub and service are about the same. In the wide open spaces of the West where cafes and patrons are few and far between, those are the culinary realities. In larger western cities, where competition is keen, the situation is reversed.
With the flood of Chinese restaurants in urban areas across America and with the added competition from Japanese, Thai, Malaysian, Mongolian, Indian, and other Oriental eateries, I’ve noticed that shrewd Chinese businessmen who for so long had a monopoly on the market are looking for any edge. Some have opened fast-food outlets similar to Wendy’s – Peking Express, Hunan Hurry-Up, Shanghai Shake-A-Leg. Others seek simpler, cheaper solutions. Going to their Chinese/English dictionary and anxiously pulling out what they think are the most appealing words they can find, some desperate owners rename their restaurants in the extreme. A few of the outlandish names I’ve noticed over the years are “Happy Family,” “Golden Fortune,” “Wonderful House,” “Great America,” “Lucky China,” “Lucky Buffet,” “Lucky Panda,” and “Joyful Garden.” After glancing at these signs, one might imagine that honor, decency and virtue were being served inside, rather than chicken chow mein and egg drop soup. But with so much competition abroad, Wong’s Diner and China Café just don’t cut it no more. As Confucius might say: “Wise man must be all good thing to all fat American, or go back China in disgrace.”
Something else I have noticed about the Western culinary scene. On any short drive through the hustings, a body invariably runs across at least one restaurant that proudly proclaims: “Country Style Cookin’.”
“Country Style Cookin’?” After all these years I still ask myself, “What’s the difference?” I’ve done some eating in both the country and the city and haven’t found any difference yet. “Country Style” can’t be talking about the way food is dished up because I’ve had some pretty good and some pretty ugly meals in both places. “Country Style” can’t be referring to the menus either for they’re almost the same everywhere – steak, fried shrimp, mashed potatoes. And let’s face it, there’s not a lot of distinction between mashed potatoes in the country and mashed potatoes in the city. Take a spud from Idaho, peal it, boil it, mash it, put on a pat, and that’s that. If it’s served in the city, you’ve got what you’ve got – mashed potatoes. Serve the same stuff in the boondocks, however, and Shezam! you’re now eatin’ “Country Style Cookin’.”
This subliminal tendency is a cultural thing; it arises from images of The Waltons and Norman Rockwell where heaping portions of steaming food are passed around happy country dinner tables and served with plenty of motherly TLC. Baloney. I was raised in the country and my mom, with a pained expression on her face, could not cook worth a hang. Still, I am no different from anyone else. If I was cruising the land and starving, and if I saw two restaurants side by side and one said “Cafe” and the other said “Mom’s Cafe–Country Style Home Cookin’,” I’d probably pull into the latter if for no better reason than that’s where all the cars would be parked.
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