#3 with mustard hold the tomatoe
So, I have been thinking about food lately. Much of my idle moments have been spent obsessing over food. Carbs, proteins, fats, fiber, and such are the main focus points when I am reading labels. Really the basic parts are just the start though. 'Tis the season for nostalgia, thus I've found myself recalling some of my favorite food spots from my past. The top of the list of 'It has been too long! Man, that was a great place to eat' is: Teresa's. Teresa's was in Wynona, OK. If the name sounds familiar it is because a certain Judd girl took a look at a map of Oklahoma one day saw this speck on the map, added another N before the A, and made it her stage name. The family would stop there on the way to Pawhuska from Hominy. The building that held the greatness was a house that had been adapted to a diner. Not bluffing, you went up the steps to the front stoop, into the front door, and into the first dining lobby that was clearly meant to be a living room. The front counter for paying your tab and for wait staff to pick up orders from the pass through was just inside the door and on the left. There was a second dining area that seemed to be two bedrooms at one time. They had just taken down the wall between the two. That was the first place I experienced a grilled onion cheeseburger. No kidding, my mouth just watered. Teresa's made visiting the vastly insane extended family bearable. So what if my cousin Dallas thinks his dad's car is so cool he calls it 'Kit'? Who cares if continues to talk smack while we play Horse? I have a belly full of Teresa's and thus nothing bothers me. They closed down in the late 80s and the world is a darker place because of it.
Next up is Coleman's in Okmulgee. Take a drive south on highway 75 out of Tulsa and before you hit Henryetta (home of Troy Aikman) you will find Okmulgee. This is home to one of the nine bands of Creek Tribe. Coleman's sat just off the highway and looked like a standard highway diner. But I am here to tell ya brothers and beauties that there was nothing standard about the food put forth from that kitchen. This is where I fell in love with pie. Now it is true that I am fairly easy to please on the pie front. This was on a whole other level. The pie that you could get at Coleman's made you angry at other pies. After eating a slice you would realize that other pies had been holding out on you. In my head I would shake my fist and yell 'I know you can do better'. Still to this day, and especially in this season, I wonder why all pie can't be like Coleman's. Why kitchen gods, why!?
The third choice completes the burger joint trifecta, Murphy's. As the name suggest the Murphy family run Murphy's. This one has the distinction of being more mythical in my mind for the fact that I had the least amount of visits and I cannot recall with certainty where it was. I think it was in Ponca City. Murphy's may not have been good as the first two on the list but definitely held their own. Kind like when you ask John Q. Public who the greatest American presidents were. Everybody goes with Washington and Lincoln and then the third is usually varied. Upon closer inspection, or in this case more frequent visits, I may have found more greatness there. As is they are the RC Cola of the battle for my love. Juicy side bit to the Murphy's lore: Old man Murphy and the Mrs. Murphy opened and closed the place daily for several years. This could not have been easy. The dirty hippie in me cringes at the mere thought of that much work. But it seems Mr. Murphy had some hippie in him too. Every so often, some say every other year, Old man Murphy would run off. Yep, like a bird dog finding a hole in the fence of his cage, Mr. Murphy would go away to stretch his legs. Now, I doubt that he was digging in the neighbor's flowerbed or lifting a leg on the surrounding fire hydrants. Heck, he may have just gone fishing. Nobody knows for sure save for Murphy himself. However, loyal and frequent visitors of Murphy's have reported that he was thoughtful enough to call and check in while he was out and about. This apparently caused The Mrs. Murphy to use words and phrases that could make a sailor on shore leave blush. It has been further reported that along with said language were commands to return to home and work at once. I have no idea if any of that is true but I like a bit of gossip now and then.
Our final stop on the gastric nostalgia trip is Rosie's Rib Joint. Rosie's was just east of Memorial between 41st and 51st streets in Tulsa. All that is left of Rosie's is the building that once housed it. Now it is a 'Flying Roll'. I weep for the city. Rosie's lasted into the current millennium but the true heyday was the late 70's and 80's. Starting about 1992 things were just not the same. Rosie's was not the hole in the wall dive the name 'rib joint' congers. This was a very nice place. Linens, floor length table cloths, elaborate light fixtures, this was the attention to detail of just the trappings. Now, imagine the attention of the food served. Rosie's used to be the only place a growing lad (as I was) could get a full meal just from the salad bar. I never saw my father send a steak back at Rosie's. That is the biggest compliment I have for any establishment.
Well, folks thanks for jumping in the way back machine with me for this little trip. All of the stories are true to the best of my memory. That being said, give me a few years and I am sure these places will be even better. This is Eagle, signing off and saying thanks for the calories.
So, I have been thinking about food lately. Much of my idle moments have been spent obsessing over food. Carbs, proteins, fats, fiber, and such are the main focus points when I am reading labels. Really the basic parts are just the start though. 'Tis the season for nostalgia, thus I've found myself recalling some of my favorite food spots from my past. The top of the list of 'It has been too long! Man, that was a great place to eat' is: Teresa's. Teresa's was in Wynona, OK. If the name sounds familiar it is because a certain Judd girl took a look at a map of Oklahoma one day saw this speck on the map, added another N before the A, and made it her stage name. The family would stop there on the way to Pawhuska from Hominy. The building that held the greatness was a house that had been adapted to a diner. Not bluffing, you went up the steps to the front stoop, into the front door, and into the first dining lobby that was clearly meant to be a living room. The front counter for paying your tab and for wait staff to pick up orders from the pass through was just inside the door and on the left. There was a second dining area that seemed to be two bedrooms at one time. They had just taken down the wall between the two. That was the first place I experienced a grilled onion cheeseburger. No kidding, my mouth just watered. Teresa's made visiting the vastly insane extended family bearable. So what if my cousin Dallas thinks his dad's car is so cool he calls it 'Kit'? Who cares if continues to talk smack while we play Horse? I have a belly full of Teresa's and thus nothing bothers me. They closed down in the late 80s and the world is a darker place because of it.
Next up is Coleman's in Okmulgee. Take a drive south on highway 75 out of Tulsa and before you hit Henryetta (home of Troy Aikman) you will find Okmulgee. This is home to one of the nine bands of Creek Tribe. Coleman's sat just off the highway and looked like a standard highway diner. But I am here to tell ya brothers and beauties that there was nothing standard about the food put forth from that kitchen. This is where I fell in love with pie. Now it is true that I am fairly easy to please on the pie front. This was on a whole other level. The pie that you could get at Coleman's made you angry at other pies. After eating a slice you would realize that other pies had been holding out on you. In my head I would shake my fist and yell 'I know you can do better'. Still to this day, and especially in this season, I wonder why all pie can't be like Coleman's. Why kitchen gods, why!?
The third choice completes the burger joint trifecta, Murphy's. As the name suggest the Murphy family run Murphy's. This one has the distinction of being more mythical in my mind for the fact that I had the least amount of visits and I cannot recall with certainty where it was. I think it was in Ponca City. Murphy's may not have been good as the first two on the list but definitely held their own. Kind like when you ask John Q. Public who the greatest American presidents were. Everybody goes with Washington and Lincoln and then the third is usually varied. Upon closer inspection, or in this case more frequent visits, I may have found more greatness there. As is they are the RC Cola of the battle for my love. Juicy side bit to the Murphy's lore: Old man Murphy and the Mrs. Murphy opened and closed the place daily for several years. This could not have been easy. The dirty hippie in me cringes at the mere thought of that much work. But it seems Mr. Murphy had some hippie in him too. Every so often, some say every other year, Old man Murphy would run off. Yep, like a bird dog finding a hole in the fence of his cage, Mr. Murphy would go away to stretch his legs. Now, I doubt that he was digging in the neighbor's flowerbed or lifting a leg on the surrounding fire hydrants. Heck, he may have just gone fishing. Nobody knows for sure save for Murphy himself. However, loyal and frequent visitors of Murphy's have reported that he was thoughtful enough to call and check in while he was out and about. This apparently caused The Mrs. Murphy to use words and phrases that could make a sailor on shore leave blush. It has been further reported that along with said language were commands to return to home and work at once. I have no idea if any of that is true but I like a bit of gossip now and then.
Our final stop on the gastric nostalgia trip is Rosie's Rib Joint. Rosie's was just east of Memorial between 41st and 51st streets in Tulsa. All that is left of Rosie's is the building that once housed it. Now it is a 'Flying Roll'. I weep for the city. Rosie's lasted into the current millennium but the true heyday was the late 70's and 80's. Starting about 1992 things were just not the same. Rosie's was not the hole in the wall dive the name 'rib joint' congers. This was a very nice place. Linens, floor length table cloths, elaborate light fixtures, this was the attention to detail of just the trappings. Now, imagine the attention of the food served. Rosie's used to be the only place a growing lad (as I was) could get a full meal just from the salad bar. I never saw my father send a steak back at Rosie's. That is the biggest compliment I have for any establishment.
Well, folks thanks for jumping in the way back machine with me for this little trip. All of the stories are true to the best of my memory. That being said, give me a few years and I am sure these places will be even better. This is Eagle, signing off and saying thanks for the calories.
paprika:
Thanks for the support!!!
