If it’s good, it will be better fried

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A deep fried deviled egg. Death on a plate.

I’ve always contended that the people around here would fry coffee if they could figure out how, and tonight did nothing to dissuade me from that opinion.  We made our annual stop at Bennett’s Barbecue, and the new delicacy on the menu is deep fried deviled eggs.  naturally, we had to order them for the table.

(And yes, one of our number suggested that the waitress could split the $7.99 six way and add it to each of our checks.  We found a better way.)

They batter and fry the whites before piping the yolk mixture into the now crispy whatever you would call that item, then top it all with “chow chow”, a supposedly “oriental” topping of pickled I don’t want to know what.

It tastes good.  I’m starting to figure out why I have had to heart issues twice right after Gatlinburg.

After the eggs, I had the salad bar, which is at least the illusion of healthy, and a brisket sandwich.  Nothing special in any of that.  Then came dessert:

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I’m a sucker for fresh baked, still warm, peach cobbler with ice cream. It was all it was supposed to be, with still crisp peaches, a gooey crust and cooling vanilla ice cream dripping off every spoonful.  The bad news is that I just can’t east as much these days and offered it to the rest of the gang to share.

Bridge continues to be desultory. We win a bit, lose a bit, just can’t hit a groove.  I still enjoy the trip–where else can I get deep fried eggs?

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