Three words: Chedder Bay Biscuits.
"You can put a color with any noun and make a restaurant," my youngest brother commented on the ride over. He sat in the very back of the Envoy. I was behind the driver, my father. It was a family affair - the first dinner together since my other brother had gotten in from leave.
"Green French fry," the oldest of the two sons said. Ew.
I understand that Red Lobster is a direct insult to anyone living on the coast - whether you're from Seattle or Boston. Trust me, I'm well aware how offensive this restaurant can be. Yet, consider the demographic of the diners - all of us from Kansas. Sure, I've been to the coast, eaten fresh fish in Boston and San Francisco. Red Lobster is not what I would consider "upscale dining." Yet, considering the alternatives, I was okay with the selection. After all, they had to have a decent beer, right? They did. I ordered a Blue Moon while my brothers chose mixed drinks.
Our waiter, one gregarious Erock, was the life of the party... and he wasn't even family. I ordered his recommendation - the Cajun Salmon - and found myself barely picking at it. I had a few bites of broccoli, but mainly I was content munching on the biscuits and drinking my beer. My brother picked at his steak. I tried a bite. "Chew, chew, chew," he said as my teeth tried to tear the beef apart. "Bite 15 and you've lost all flavor." I nodded sympathetically. Most of my family enjoyed their meal, though I could tell there were a couple disappointed in parts of their entrees, like the rice. I boxed mine up to go, for my Dad had ordered the exact same thing and loved it. No reason in wasting food, you know? Besides, I like making sure mi padre is well fed.
We all left full. I think my meal consisted of 75% beer, 15% biscuits and 10% "real" food.