Cast Iron Dream

I'm not very good with names, nor can I tell you with any accuracy where I was last Wednesday. But ask me what is my favorite restaurant in Fayetteville, Arkansas? I will say, The Tail of the Trout, a restaurant adjacent to a trout pond. I'm obsessed with excellent neighborhood cafe fare. I've driven several hundred miles out of my way to stop in a small restaurant in Saint George, Utah (Dick's Famous Café) for their pork sausage. I don't yearn for restaurants in exotic locations or ones with rich trappings, nor restaurants "Everyone's talking about." When my mouth waters, my eyes look skyward, and a sense of serenity fills my soul, I catalog another epicurean jewel. Many of these gems are now lost; closed, or worse, have mutated their menus. 

Of the many places I've dined, it was only Ricky's, in San Diego, that I rated as five-star. Ricky's an unassuming, friendly place with a loyal following. Often, I'd drive the 100 or so miles from home to dine there. The staff was friendly, the surroundings amicable, but these were just the trimmings. The only thing I could think of as I drove was, once again, I would order Ricky's apple pancake so perfect my eyes would get misty. After ordering, I'd wait in anticipation for the 20 or so minutes it took to prep and bake something very close to heaven. I took a picture of one of the last of these beauties as it came out of the oven. I plan to commission it in oils. Rickys is no longer there; it has been razed, replaced by a soulless corporate monolith. Ricky's now lingers in my thoughts as bittersweet and lost as the memories of first love.

What happened to Ricky's could happen to your favorite place. I beg you to find, support your treasured five-star treasure.