joeyfullystated

On the Fort, (pay attention, The Fort!) there’s a restaurant. I think for years it was breakfast and brunch only, which is why I never went there, but now they seem to serve lunch and dinner, cause I follow them on Instagram and they post noms and write things like, “Join us for dinner!” Maybe they always served lunch. I don’t know their life.

I had to fangirl them, because Benson is a fan and they are a local business. The food always looks good.

A few weeks ago, The Mister called me at 10am on a Saturday and said, “Wanna eat?” and I did. I did wanna eat. I consented to putting on clothes because it was about 10 degrees, and then the worst part — as always, he asked, “Where ya wanna go?” If you have enjoyed being asked that question for the last twenty fucking years, we have nothing in common. I have a big imagination. I think of the best meals I’ve ever had and I realize he’s not going to drive me to Provincetown or Sanibel or whatever, and he hates driving downtown, and he hates parking in Broad Ripple…

Cafe Audrey!

So we goed.

The food was good.

The building, which I photographed before, long ago, is groovy.

I took the old pic after school, so maybe 4ish and they definitely weren’t open then.

New picture. Deceptively warm looking sun rays.

Erm, they sat us at the bar/counter thingy. Not far from the door. I did not like this. I asked the host if people would pay right next to us, as there was a POS there, and the host did lie at my face, saying, “No, people won’t be coming up here.” People did come there. All the time. Mostly him. Also it was cold. There was a space heater on 90 pointed at my legs the entire time and it was cold. I began to hate polite people who held the door open for others. Shame on them. Next time we go, I intend to demand booth seating on the east side of the building where I will not have to stop to make fake polite conversation ten times an hour and I will not ask my husband if I can hold his coffee mug to soothe my angry hands.

This was my view:

They had a coffee station and random mugs like anyone’s house. This complimented the other dishes, mismatched and happy. I dig the decor. And this guy on the right.

Behind me, this complicated drool-worthy double door feature.

I don’t know what she’s mad about, but it may have been someone opening the door, I’m just sayin.

My favorite?
This window:

Did I mention the food was good?

#ThursdayDoors is part of an inspired post series run by Norm Frampton. To see other doors of interest, or to share your own, click the link and find the frog.

This place is an institution.
I used to eat at Gray Brothers with my grandparents. I used to eat there with my aunts. I used to eat there with The Motterns before I was one.

Obviously I have not eaten there since 1944.

See, how we came to eat at Gray Brothers is because we never eat at Gray Brothers. Two Sundays ago we drove down to Southern Indiana, well I drove down, cause I want always to drive in the daytime, even if there is a snowstorm, light is mo better, and my husband didn’t want us to eat there even though that’s where Aunt Marthanne brought her sugar cream pie…
After I snuck off to eat Swiss cheese, Papaw said The Mister ought to take us to Gray Brothers on the way home and I said, “HE NEVER TAKES ME TO GRAY BROTHERS! I ask him every time, and every time he says no! Twenty years! Not once in twenty years!”
This surprised Papaw and he shook his head.
I KNOW!
It’s a damn shame is what it is.
So when we drove home, well, The Mister drove home, because it was dark, I said to him, “Your dad said you ought to take me to Gray Brothers.”
“Did he now? My dad said that? To YOU?”
“He did. And I told him you never take me.”
“Hmph.”

We stopped at McDon’ts in Spencer, about which I will never complain, Coke Coke.

I asked The Mister, “Don’t you like Gray Brothers? Why you never wanna go?”
“Cause, Baby, I just wanna get home. We will make a special trip next weekend. I will take you then.”
Hurrah!

And now, I will take y’all. Sorry you can’t smell it or taste it.

I’ll admit it’s an odd pic, unless you consider it makes a nice Lock Screen photo.

Oh, it’s happening!

Oh my gosh, here we go!

AAAAAAAAAH!

Now, Imma tell you how it works. You wait in a line. A long, long line. Even if you show up when it’s ‘slow’, y’ain’t walkin in to eat, you walkin in to wait.

You got about 200 feet to wait inside, but on Sunday after church, the line is outside and wraps round the building. We went at 2 on a Saturday and were about 60th.

It doesn’t change.

Okay, the menu changes daily, and you must Google if you wanna be in the know. It’s all good. It is ALL good.

In case you never Googled ‘Hoosier tenderloin’ now I can show you.

It’s bigger than the plate.

But don’t order too much, cause PIE.

The pie! Oh the pie! I declared their lemon meringue pie the best when I was maybe ten. I am unwavering.

LAWD.

Beef n’ noodles, green beans, sage stuffing, half a roll, half a pie, and four glasses of water later, I was bursting.
Between the stuffing and my half a roll, I sopped up every bit of that noodle goo.

Perhaps you need a close-up of the noodle goo.

Mmm, noodle goo. What could be better on a cold winter’s day?

And that’s Gray Brothers.

I didn’t eat the rest of the day… cept PIE. The other half of the best lemon meringue pie ever.

You should eat before you read me, hm? Next week, I may take you to brunch on The Fort. Unless I go someplace more interesting this weekend, which might also include food, because it’s winter in the Midwest and I just want comfort foods and quilts and books and tv and sleeeeep.

#ThursdayDoors is part of an inspired post series run by Norm Frampton.  To see other doors of interest, or to share your own, click the link and find the frog.

It was a beautiful day. It was too cold, but it was beautiful. After a week of rain and snow and gray and snow white skies, it was nice to see the blue sky, even if it was too cold.

The Mister and I were alone and we had breakfast out, and went to the bookshop, and he got some new kicks, and he asked me if there was anywhere else I wanted to go, and I said, “Yes, actually. Just across Allisonville Road is Penzey’s Spices,” and he did drive me there. I ASKED him to.

Over breakfast, we had talked about how I have an aversion to thyme. I always forget this, because I don’t cook with it and it’s not something I encounter often. You know how I’m always like, “I’m a foodie, I eat all the foods?” Well, I don’t like thyme. I don’t mean l won’t consume a dash in a soup or a sauce, I mean anything with thyme in it would taste better without it. My mother made thyme chicken once, at least 25 years ago, and I have not forgotten. It was awful. I don’t wanna smell it, I don’t wanna taste it, I don’t want to think about it. Writing this makes me think about it and I kinda wanna hork. I can actually envision my mother that day. Happy to see me home, me walkin in all
“Oh God, what the hell happened? What is that smell?”
“Thyme chicken.”
“Gnarly.”
It did NOT taste good. No likey thyme. No no no.
Ick. Thyme. And I had thought, “Where could we go that my husband could smell the thyme and I would not have to?” The spice place.

Also, Marian is always goin on about Penzey’s and her instapot and I drive by the Penzey’s all the time. I had lovely ideas about sniffing lavender… maybe buy some groovy Marian kinda spice blend, kick my fish up a notch, fancy peppercorn. Dreams.

I am dumb. I walked in, acted like I don’t have the nose of a bloodhound, started sniffin and sniffin and about three jars in, I got into somethin with a lot of curry. ALAWT. I mean CURRRRREH. My sinuses aflame, my throat all choked. And then the sneezing. Guess what else was in the thing with all the curry? Pepper. So I pretty much sneezed my way to the ladies and blew and blew and blew. And thus, the sniffing ended. Too picy for Joeys.

I have a good nose. *SIGH*
But hey, I detect gas leaks, so it’s not for nothin.

Anyway, much like candle shops and perfumeries, I should be brief and shop with intent.

The Mister smelled thyme and he said, “That’s fuckin gross.” I love him so much.

Have you smelled Mexican vanilla?!? Do that.

Okay, so doors.

Oh wait, those are windows. Lookee blue skies!

#ThursdayDoors is part of an inspired post series run by Norm Frampton.  To see other doors of interest, or to share your own, click the link and find the frog.