Cavernous Belly of Steel
Amid Branson’s mini-golf courses hides some of the finest dining in Missouri. But I write for a living, which gives me approximately the same cash flow of, say, a professional thumb-twiddler. I can’t afford luxuries like ambience, waiters or this “silverware” everyone is talking about.
So I decided to explore the other side of Branson eating: the mom-and-pop diners, kitschy themed restaurants and holes-in-the-wall. My fiancée, Donna, and I headed to the Branson strip, to partake in my three favorite activities: eating, writing and getting paid for writing about eating.
The Starters
My stomach was already rumbling when we hit Main Street. We started at the Cheese Outlet, which conveniently offered samples. Armed with a toothpick, I methodically ate through the samples, one pencil-eraser-sized chunk at a time. But the cheese didn’t sustain me, and I needed some energy food. By “energy food,” I mean “fudge.” So we stopped off at a 30-year Branson mainstay, The Fudge Shop, run by… Grandma. Everyone’s grandma. If you ever had or knew a grandma, please visit her at The Fudge Shop, and tell her you love her. I bought a half-pound pecan log: a fist-sized chunk of caramel- and pecan-crusted fudge. Donna and I took turns gnawing around the edges of the rich snack, desperately wishing we had brought a gallon of milk.
The Lunch
After our decadent appetizer, we were ready for lunch. We headed to Clockers, a diner just off Main Street that promised home-cooking.
We checked out the simple menu and realized that, by Clockers’ definition, the primary ingredient of home-cooking is ranch dressing (or, as I like to call, “hillbilly béarnaise”). Burgers, chicken strips, Reubens—all were doused in it. We chose the house specialty Clocker Burger, an open-faced, one-third pound burger served on Texas toast, smothered in ranch dressing, grilled onions, sautéed mushrooms and mozzarella. The burger was good, as anything smothered tends to be.
The service was quick and efficient—no extra time was wasted to see if we were enjoying our meal or if we needed anything. When we asked for more Diet Coke, the waitress brought an entire glass of Coke to our table and poured half in each glass.
The Sweet Treat
To settle the unpleasant fudge ’n’ ranch combo in our stomachs, we headed to the Cobbler and Sandwich Shoppe for dessert. After lengthy consideration, Donna ordered blackberry, and I ordered peach. We headed outside to the patio and upon opening my container, I was annoyed to discover that the insufficiently heated cobbler had not melted the ice cream. Everyone knows the best part about cobbler is the contrast between the cool melty ice cream and the molten filling. This filling wasn’t molten at all! I persevered and took a bite. What the cobbler lacked in temperature, it made up for with a crunchy, flaky crust, sweet fruit and a perfect crust-to-fruit ratio. Mine was better, but I shared with Donna anyway because I’m a gentleman.
The Dinner
After five hours of outlet shopping and aimless touristy gawking, we wandered into Casa Fuentes. Going for maximum caloric intake, we had margaritas and split a combo plate with a chile relleno, a ground beef enchilada and a tamale. The giant cheese-stuffed chile relleno was amazing. Not too spicy and, for the first time in my life, I could taste and appreciate the light batter that covered the chile. The enchilada was equally good, packed with spicy beef and drenched in the same cheese sauce found in the relleno. Unfortunately, Casa Fuentes absolutely failed the tamale test. The tamale was dry and bland.
The Dessert
Before leaving town, we hit Cakes and Creams for supreme funnel cake—an unholy combination of funnel cake, whipped cream, vanilla ice cream and strawberry topping. The Styrofoam plate creaked under the weight of the towering mound of dough, grease, cream and sugar. I instantly knew two things: 1) We were going to lick that plate clean, and 2) we were going to regret it. We ate quickly and silently, working our way from the sugar-dusted and crispy golden outer edges to the gooey middle, where the cake had soaked up the melted ice cream and strawberries.
We drove home in exhausted silence, occasionally shifting uncomfortably in our seats and wiping the sheen of grease from our faces. Donna snoozed while I tallied the results of the day:
Gut-busting entrées for two $30
Sugar, dough and chocolate $20
Margaritas! $12
Tips $6
A day of fun with my favorite person and not wearing a dress shirt, khakis or a tie Priceless
