Chuck-A-Rampa

My dear grandfather gets nervous around food. He worries that he won't like food that's unfamiliar. He worries that everybody else isn't getting enough to eat. He worries if there isn't bread and jam with every meal. There are 2 places Grampa likes to eat: 

1) at his own kitchen table eating a meal his own dear wife prepared (which includes not too much meat but lots of vegetables from his own garden).

2) at the {Chuck-A-Rama buffet.} 

He loves that at Chuck-A-Rama he can see all the food and pick what he likes. He loves that everybody else is eating plenty. He loves it all. So whenever there is a visiting friend or relative in town, Gramps will take them to Chuck-A-Rama. Because of this practice, we've named the place "Chuck-A-Rampa" (after Grampa).

Part of the Chuck-A-Rampa experience is pretending that you like it. This includes multiple trips to the buffet and the obligatory bowl of soft serve ice cream, not to mention showing off your plate and food choices each time you return to the table. 

With that background, what I am about to say may shock you. Last Friday Dan and I went up to hang out with his family. Mother-in-law Vicki offered to watch the kids so we could go out to dinner. Dan wanted a burrito. But I wanted a salad. Then we both wanted bottom-less steak fries; However, we couldn't settle on a restaurant. 

Finally, we got in the car and drove where our stomachs told us. We ended up at Chuck-A-Rampa. 

We went in. 

We ate. 

And ate. 

And ate. 

And ATE. 

And I'm telling you honestly, food has never tasted so good. I loved it. Truly. I think Chuck-A-Rama must have really stepped up their game because the potatoes were real mashed potatoes, and the pot roast melted in my grateful mouth and the {carrot cake} was incredible. 

Grandpa, you've found yourself a new lunch buddy.