Road Food, Part 3: A side of bittersweet

Arrived home in mid-afternoon, after a 5 1/2 hour drive back from visiting the ancestral homestead in southeastern Virginia. The Spouse, Wee Lass and I went down to visit with the Parents of Gumbo, get some face time with my Big Bro and his lovely better half, and celebrate a slightly delayed Christmas. A pleasant visit overall, especially if one is a certain granddaughter who receives her yearly toy allotment (i.e. a shitload) in one fell swoop. More princesses for the Princess, with not one but TWO 'Belle' dolls. Wee Lass likes herself some Disney. Oh, and there was food. A lot of food.

The drive can be made in about 4 hours, but we stopped to eat in a little town called Tappahannock, in eastern Virginia. It sits near to the Rappahannock River, which in turn is nearby to the Chesapeake Bay. Good fish and oyster country, that. The place we went to eat is an old seafood restaurant right there on the main drag through town, by name of Lowery's:

It's a funny thing that I had never eaten there until relatively recently, on another holiday visit. Way back when I was still "a-courtin'" The Spouse (at that point The Girlfriend), who lived in Maryland at the time, I would pass Lowery's every trip. I was in too much of a hurry, and too busy stuffing my face with nasty-ass Hardee's steak biscuits while driving, to give this unassuming restaurant a try. Pity for me, as I discovered later.

We finally stopped there to eat on a holiday visit years ago, Wee Lass was now our permanent passenger, and we had begun to think of McDonBurgTacoAldsKingBell's as food of last resort. So we were less inclined to choke down fast food and more in the mood for some real food. Fortunately, Lowery's is good, as we discovered, so we stopped in today for lunch. Not what you'd call fancy-schmancy, more low-key and definitely old country decor. They also have a talking mynah bird, named Jay-Boy, in what amounts to a gift shop area in the back. They also have, for the young'ns, a little wishing well with toy fish in it. The kids get a little fishing pole with a magnet and hook, and they 'fish' in the well. You snag a fish, take it to the counter, and then pick out a free toy. On this visit, Wee Lass decided to go with the purple plastic beads. She was quite delighted with her new jewelry.

Oh, yes, the food. They specialize in seafood, fried, broiled, baked. They do a good broiled fish, a tasty crab cake (sandwich or platter), shrimp and hushpuppies. Surprisingly, the best bread pudding I have ever had was at Lowery's. I was licking the bowl! But my favorite is the fried oyster sandwich. Yum, yum, YUM! They have access to some mighty fine oysters out of the nearby waters. This being a good time of year for oysters, the sandwich was what I got:

Just look at all that goodness! Damn, too bad for you guys that there is no Smell-O-Vision available for the Internet! A simple, humble thing, but when it is done right, there isn't much to beat the taste and crunch of a fresh fried oyster sandwich. This one was done right!

Truth be told, this sandwich (as good as it was), was not the best thing I had to eat on this trip. No, the top honor for that would have to be the grilled peanut butter sandwich I had for breakfast this morning before we left to go home. I wasn't thinking ahead, plus I was really hungry, so I didn't think to take a picture of it. In hindsight, I wish I had. It was very attractive. It was crispy on the outside and gooey-soft on the inside. Biting into it was like biting into some of the best memories I have from my time as a little Gumbo. This is a sandwich I would drive a long, long way to have, it's that good.

Who could create such a wonder? What chef could turn a humble grilled peanut butter sandwich into a delicious mouthful of memories? Why, that would be my Moms. She did me a favor, made breakfast this morning, and gave me a grilled peanut butter sandwich like only she can make: a simple thing, done right, made with love. It doesn't get any better than that.

Thank you, Mom.

ROAD TRIP: SCENES FROM HIGHWAY 17