Earl and I are in Avoca, Iowa, on our way home from Thanksgiving festivities with family in Denver, Colorado. We left before the sun rose this morning with the intent of driving as far as we could before becoming grouchy. We made it to Avoca, east of Council Bluffs but west of Des Moines.
Iowa has outlawed billboards, so we had little to go on to determine if we could get gas, lodging, and food with cocktails when we pulled off the interstate. It turns out Avoca has all three, although not what one would call first class. No matter; grouchy was becoming an issue.
We like to eat at local establishments when we’re on the road. Want to leave some of our money where we stay. As he often does, when Earl got our room at the local motel he asked about the best place to eat in town. I was in the car, so I didn’t hear the exact response; but Earl returned and said The Embers was the only place in town. He also said it was characterized as “last century” and no credit cards allowed. I asked which “last century” we were talking about.
We drove the half mile to The Embers and saw other cars parked in front. It could have been a dive, but we were committed to eating there. Grouchy needed to be addressed.
We entered the establishment and were truly transported to the last century. The dйcor was a cross between soda fountain, early cocktail bar, and coffee shop. It had vintage lunch boxes displayed on two walls and a revolving dessert case which hummed incessantly. Still, it met our criteria, so we found a booth and settled in.
Right away Earl found a zinfandel on the menu that pleased him. Me? I asked what vodka was available, and the server went to check. She returned with some house version I’d never heard of – maybe “Werewolf,” for all I know — and while I was leery I ordered one cocktail with limes. I thought the limes might cover any suspicious taste, but it turned out The Embers doesn’t do limes.
After drinks, Earl and I ordered our dinners with soup and salad bar. We toyed with both while waiting for our entrees. And this is where The Embers gets four stars. My fried chicken was the juiciest I’ve ever had and Earl’s broiled walleye was the same. His mashed potatoes were clearly homemade, and my Idaho was baked to perfection. I must add that this is also the only restaurant we’ve ever eaten in that had tater tots on the menu.
It just goes to show you can have surprisingly good food anywhere, regardless of the century or the community that’s involved. In fact, we’re returning in the morning for blueberry pancakes before hitting the road. And grouchy has nothing to do with it.
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