Rural Restaurant Review, Part 1

Since Husband and I are living the simple life in the Northern Neck area of Virginia for the summer, I have decided that, as much as possible, I am going to explore local culture and immerse myself in country living. I am anticipating a less slutty Paris and Nicole type summer, full of hilarious misunderstandings and blunders.
Okay, so I understand that the Northern Neck (an area of Virginia that borders the Chesapeake Bay and spans something like eight counties) is not actually some backwoods, unrefined area where the locals are missing teeth and toes. I think it’s actually more full of people like my parents, people who have more money than they know what to do with and have solved their mid-life crises by building a weekend home and buying a truck and a boat. That said, I’m interested in getting to know the area. My first step was going to church on Sunday. My second step was eating at a local Mexican restaurant on Monday.
My mother’s paying me to do odd jobs around the house this summer, so as part of my work, I had to go to a flooring store about 45 minutes away. From where we are, everything is 45 minutes away. Husband rode along with me and Baby, jumping at the chance to go out to lunch. He’s been dying to try Wendy’s new burger, “The Baconator.” The Baconator has something like four hamburger patties and sixteen pieces of bacon and is a burger I would never dream of eating, but he can’t wait. I didn’t really want to go to Wendy’s though. I figure, that while we’re here this summer, we should sample some of the local fare.
About halfway to the flooring store, we passed a Chinese restaurant. “How about Chinese food?” I proposed.
“Where?” Husband asked.
“Hong Kong. It’s right next to the Food Lion.”
“Um…I don’t really want to eat at a Chinese restaurant that’s right next to a Food Lion.”
“I can’t believe I married someone with no sense of adventure,” I said.
“Okay, so now eating Chinese food at a restaurant next to Food Lion in Warsaw, Virginia is having a sense of adventure? You wouldn’t eat Chinese food in the Bronx.”
“Um, yeah I would. I did it every day,” I confessed. “You have no sense of adventure,” I repeated.
“Well, I think I broke you of that habit.”
“No you didn’t,” I countered. “I just never did it when you were around. But it was great. I paid $5 and had food for two days.”
“I want the Baconator,” he reminded me.
A few minutes later, we spotted a Wendy’s. Husband was all set to immerse himself in the bacon food heaven he’s been talking about for three weeks. He was practically doing the Homer Simpson drool: Mmmmmm….Baconator. And then I spotted a Mexican restaurant right next to Wendy’s. “Ooooh! How about Mexican?” I suggested.
Husband sighted. “I want the Baconator. Fine. I guess I can do Mexican.”
The restaurant was pretty generic as far as Mexican restaurants go. It had none of the qualities that make Rosa Mexicano, Nacho Mama’s, Rancho, Mary Ann’s, or any number of Mexican places I’ve eaten over the years stand out. The chips were good; Husband reported that the Coke was not. He was happy that his carne asada came with five tacos, and he ate all of them. The rice clumped together in little yellow clumps, and the waiter thought I didn’t want beans, so I have nothing to say about them. My cheese enchiladas were the color of vodka sauce, and had a taste that was familiar, but I couldn’t place it. Vodka sauce, maybe?
So the generic Northern Neck Mexican restaurant was fine. Nothing spectacular, nothing interesting, except for the Caucasian family at the next table who insisted their children speak Spanish to the wait staff. I don’t think I’ll need to go back, although I probably would choose it over the Crapplebee’s across the street.
As we pulled out of the parking lot, Husband noticed a sign on a window at Wendy’s. Through gritted teeth, he said, “They have the Baconator.”