Since K owns a recording studio we know a lot of local musicians. Last night he asked if I wanted to go check out the Blues Jam our friend Rob Wilson put together at the Colorado Feed and Grain Cookhouse.
Now how could I refuse? Any place with a name like that promised great people watching, which just happens to be one of my favorite pastimes. It also sounded like a dive, which meant a higher likelihood of getting a decent meal.
So taking my cue from Barb Clark’s song Lyle I Love It, I rubied up my lips and doozied up my hair and off we went for an evening of music and grub.
Grub. Well, I should choose my words carefully given what I ended up eating.
Apparently I hadn’t heard of the place before because it used to be in a neighboring community and only recently moved here. It’s way out on the edge of town, just on the other side of I-25, and is far larger than I anticipated, boasting two bars, a stage and dance floor and big dining room. Not a dive at all. They weren’t very busy when we got there at eight, but later, when the music started, folks trickled in steadily even though it was a Thursday night.
More often than not when K and I go out to eat we end up wishing we’d dined at home. Restaurant fare can be disappointing – unimaginative, overpriced, and more about quantity than quality. But the menu at CF&G surprised me. The salmon hash sounded tasty, as did the meatloaf en crout. I could have ordered alligator bites or buffalo Rocky Mountain oysters.
K had the chicken-fried chicken. The breading was spot on: light, crispy and spicy. The potatoes were smashed reds, and the country gravy had just the right amount of sausage in it.
I had the mudbugs-and-legs appetizer because despite all the truly strange things I’ve eaten all over the world, I’d never eaten crayfish(crawfish, crawdads) or frog legs, and this one dish had both.
I can only imagine how big those frogs were to have legs that size. And where do they come from? Are there frog farms? The coating was light and crisp, they weren’t greasy in the least, and the flesh was very like any firm whitefish. The crawfish were tasty – like weensy lobsters – if a lot of work. The fries were so good K ordered more.
That last is unprecedented.
The people watching was pretty good, too. Eclectic. Cowboys and frat boys, truck drivin’ women and accountants, gray-haired duos and young lovers. I made plenty of mental notes, but the couple we ended up playing pool with sparked two characters I can use in my next Sophie Mae book.
So when we got home I scribbled for an hour. They were quite a pair, but by the time they go through the story mill in my mind and on the page they will have changed considerably, I imagine.