It wasn’t until a couple of weeks ago when I was chatting with a local band at the radio station that I learned about Park Chili–exactly the type of joint I like to visit on a Saturday.
I’d passed it many a time, but couldn’t make out anything through the steamed-up windows.
I’ve been there a few times now. It’s cheap. Food’s good. But it’s more about the ambience and local color.
The cook/cashier has a brazen attitude, barking at customers to hold their horses as he tends to juggling hats. A worn Arkanoid machine sits by the front door. Jelly or apple butter comes from a big jar as a dollop next to your toast.
For about five bucks you can get a heart attack on a plate. It’s called a “Ham Mess” (also available in goetta or bacon). Essentially it’s vegetables, potatoes, eggs, meat, and cheese, smothered in gravy. (Here’s a photo)
During the meal, mom called and asked me if I’d seen the big flakes of snow outside. I had indeed, but was sad to note, it’s not really sticking.