This week’s after-church victim — I mean, restaurant location — was the other steakhouse chain where you throw peanuts on the floor. My brother will choose Texas Roadhouse every time we ask him for a suggestion. This time he had a powerful craving because the sermon had just begun when he passed me a note that read, “Texas R.?”
Thanks, bro. I spent the next 40 minutes fighting off unholy visions of country fried chicken smothered in white gravy.
So we piled into our booth — three adults on one side, my brother and the 7-year-old niece and 4-year-old nephew on the other. You already know that putting siblings next to each other in a restaurant is a blueprint for chaos — or fun, if your last name is Sturgeon.
This party kicked off when two of the adults on our order requested their filets butterflied and served well done. It’s not a matter of taste, mind you, but how long it takes to accomplish this feat. It’s plenty of time for two kids to start elbowing each other, fighting over who goes first on the iPhone tic-tac-toe game, and pulling every string to work bodily functions into the conversation.
“Aunt Julie has loud tooters!” “Uncle Ron has smelly tooters!” “Anybody want to eat a tooter?” Three guesses which child started this, and if you don’t pick the 4-year-old male, you’ve obviously never been around little boys for more than 30 seconds.
It was clearly time for a diversion of the creative version, and I wasn’t feeling particularly inspired. Instead, I went with the “what weird combination of food can you eat at this table” while my sister-in-law quietly hid the A-1 steak sauce, salt and pepper. The winning entree: Peanut Rolls. Let me share the recipe with you, courtesy of a preschooler:
1. Tear a little hole in the roll. No, bigger so you can see the inside.
2. Now put the peanut in there. No, Aunt Julie, you have to crack it first. We don’t eat the shells, we just lick the salt off.
3. Eat it!
And then I ruined the moment by taking a big bite … and missing the peanuts completely. Just a mouthful of bread. No butter. No honey. No impromptu peanut butter.
But I did get that sweet sound of laughter I was truly hungry for. And it didn’t require a single tooter.
10340 US 36 East
Avon, IN 46123
Come in early Monday thru Thursday from open until 6 p.m. and choose from 10 dinners priced at just $7.49.