When we travel we try to eat dinner at a local restaurant, usually recommended by the person at the desk in the motel where we’re staying. Most times, the experience has proven enjoyable. This evening the River City Grill was no exception, although the cuisine had some unusual combinations.
You knew right away it was going to be more along the line of bar food rather than fine dining because there was no E on the end of Grill. I’ve found that’s a reliable clue to the ambience inside. There were also two humongous flat panels TV screens that flickered through the front windows as we approached the door. Once inside, Earl chose a table in front of one of them. “All the men do that,” said the hostess, who had originally tried to seat us in another area as he veered hypnotically toward the college basketball game in progress.
The menu was five pages, top to bottom, of the chef’s best combinations. As he often does, Earl asked the server what her favorite sandwich is. “The Monte Cristo,” she said. So Earl, always one the lookout for a new culinary experience as long as it’s not healthy, ordered it. After deliberating between the chicken and the fish, I chose the trout almandine; and we settled in to watch Michigan struggle with fifth ranked Duke.
Eventually the server returned and set our entrйes down. Earl’s Monte Cristo hung over the side of his plate. It was golden brown, almost completely round, and had been deep fried to form what only could be described as a protective crust around the entire thing. It reminded me of the basketball on the big screen, although the chef had cut it into four quarters. Steam rose from it like a Michigan player’s prayer.
Then the French fried sweet potatoes and the onion rings arrived, as well as my trout. Earl dug in while I pushed the almonds around my plate. Neither of us finished our meals, not because they didn’t taste good but because they were too big. My advice to anyone eating at the River City Grill in Sterling, Colorado, is to share.
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