I try to get out of my office for lunch at least a couple times a week. There’s just something about being able to actually LEAVE the office that makes the day a touch more bearable.But then there are days, like today, when I want to eat at my desk, under the auspices of “getting some extra work done.” You know, because when you’re at your desk, you are actually working.
If that’s the case, and if a “working lunch” is your intention, then don’t get your lunch from Catherine’s Eatery. In fact, unless you are able to lock the door, turn off your phone, and completely immerse yourself in total home-cooked decadence, then do yourself a favor and get your food somewhere else.
I called and ordered the special of the day: Fried Pork Chops with rice and brown gravy. When I asked about the sides, it was like Jerry McGuire all over again… you had me at Spinach Madeline. At a loss for what to choose for the second side (since my rice and gravy didn’t count as a side, you know, because this is the south), I just asked for whatever she thought would work best and agreed when she said, “Get the green beans.”
Little did I know those four words would rock my world.
My food was ready in the time it took me to drive three blocks (it was raining, people), grab an almost legal parking spot, and run inside the brightly decorated, and sparsely seated, diner. I happily passed over two five-dollar bills to the very friendly gal at the register and zipped back out to my almost legally parked car. I was back at my desk in less than ten minutes. There may be a longer wait closer to lunchtime, (I ordered my lunch at 11), but I was pleasantly pleased with my lunch retrieval turnaround time.
The second I got to my desk and opened my bag, I knew I was in trouble.
First of all, the box weighed a ton. I realized why when I saw the pork chop.
I grew up in a home where the skin of Kentucky Fried Chicken was used as currency. My sister and I could fill several paragraphs with what we did for that extra bit of crunchy goodness. Have a room that needed cleaning? Give me that extra bit of fried crispiness and we’ll see what I can do. Want this extra glisten-y piece of skin? Empty the dishwasher. We were like the Buffalo Bills of the two-piece meal.
So you can only imagine the carnal glee that washed over me when I saw that this was no ordinary fried bit of hog. This was some full-fledged, deep-fried, get your napkins ready, I’ll clean your bedroom in exchange for a piece of, golden-brown goodness. Oh yeah. Work, what? More like, let me work at not inhaling this stuff in my mouth all at once. Charlotte had it right. This was “Some Pig.”
The rice and gravy were perfectly seasoned and not too salty at all. That’s the risk when you mix gravy with fried… sometimes you wind up eating with Salty McSalterson. And he’s a crappy lunch date. My only complaint would be that there wasn’t enough gravy. But that’s because , when it comes to the seven deadly sins, mine can be a little on the edge of gluttony… oh well, at least my head won’t end up in a box.
Being a good Southern lady, I can tell you the difference between creamed spinach and Spinach Madeline… CHEESE… good old fashioned processed Velveeta. And the Junior League would be proud, because there was some yellow gold in them thar spinach-y hills. I’m sorry… some jokes just happen, whether you want them to or not.
And the darling gal behind the counter was right… the sweet crumbly cornbread went just perfectly with my spinach. The light, airy bread was the perfect complement to the thick, rich, beta-carotene-laden, Popeye-lovin’ goodness. YUM.
Which brings me to those beans.
I wasn’t even thinking too much about them. You know, because they were just green beans. Until I put them in my mouth. Sweet Baby Jesus. These snap green beans were better than even my Mama used to make. And that statement is worth the years in purgatory I may have just bought myself. Because it’s true. The green beans and steamed tomatoes that accompanied them made this the tastiest little Styrofoam triangle I’ve even encountered. I mean it. And I’ve eaten my way across this fair city enough to tell you without a doubt that these were the best green beans in town.
In fact, my girlfriends and I have coined a term that we save for only the most intense eye-closing, give-me-a-moment, I-don’t-care-if-anyone-hears-me, I’ll-have-what-she’s-having dining moments. The “G.O.” And you can’t fake one of those, ladies and gentlemen. When it happens, you have no choice but to hope that either no one walks into your office, of if they do, they will just back away and pretend they never saw it. Sort of like Battleship Earth. Or The Last Airbender.
You get my point.
Which brings me back to my original premise… If you are going to eat your lunch in your office and hope for something quick and easy, then don’t eat food from Catherine’s. But if coming up with an excuse of why you are moaning with ecstasy at your desk, in the middle of the day, doesn’t bother you, then go ahead.
But get the green beans.
Written By: Gastro-nonymous
The Details:
Catherine’s Eatery
420 Marshall Street
Shreveport, LA 71101
318.674.2830
Leave a Reply