Around halfway through our drive, we stopped for gas, bathroom and food. The gas station at the small Florida highway exit had an attached sub shop which is where I decided to order from. The sign proclaimed is as Lester's Subs, Salads, & More. I used my dad's standard test of a sub shot and ordered an Italian with everything, toasted, add bacon. They passed, but only with about a C. Average, edible but I wouldn't go back just to get one.
A little later we arrived at our hosts' place in Tallahassee. Once we were settled in, our hosts told us that they would like to take us out to a local oyster shack, to which we responded with a hearty HELL YEAH! It was trivia night, so the inside seating was taken up, but hell, it was Florida and nice as hell out, so we opted for outside seating with no waiting. It was a like a huge covered patio with rows of picnic tables. You could even smoke! This place was very confident about their kitchen. I could tell because they only had a few items on their simple menu: oysters and sandwiches with either burger, chicken, grouper or boca burger, that's it. Once you had decided on your base, there were several choices to customize your meal. I went with raw oysters for an appetizer, then a burger with Mojo sauce, lettuce, tomato, cheddar, raw onions, grilled onions, jalepenos, and mushrooms.
The oysters were great - hard to screw up raw food. I enjoyed the cocktail sauce that came with them - lots of horseradish in it, good flavor. I downed them and waited patiently for my burger to arrive. Now, let me say, I love oysters and cocktail sauce, but I had planned my meal with the upcoming burger in mind. Spicy cocktail sauce can play hell with my stomach at times, but isn't a problem when I put something else down on top of it. I was in good shape when the waiter started bringing out everyone's food, but then I hit a snag: the waiter dropped my burger on the way to the table. Ugh. Ok, he was apologetic, it's an accident, could happen to anyone. He said it was the first time he had ever done it, and that he would immediately order up another one for me from the kitchen. So, everyone else had their food, and I had a wait....a long wait. My replacement burger finally arrived 20+ minutes later, and unfortunately by that time my stomach was eating itself! I had just started getting more and more nauseous from the oysters and sauce, and the burger didn't quite come in time.
It was a great looking burger, exactly what I had ordered and almost too big to even fit into my mouth. I gave it my best, though, flattening it down a bit and digging in. The burger didn't taste quite as good as it looked, but was passable. The bun was a little stale, the burger could have been spiced a bit better, but besides that, it was good. I maybe should have thought better about having two different kinds of onions on it. Anyways, I was hoping that it would settle my stomach but it was too late. I got through almost half of the burger and then I felt the bubbling start. Oh no! You know how it goes: your mouth starts to water, the gag reflex starts working a little. I started swallowing to try to calm it down, but to no avail. I knew I needed a bathroom right away, so I excused myself and headed inside, trying to rush through and hoping that it was vacant. I was in luck and barely in time. As I reached the door, someone came out and I hustled inside, slammed the door behind me. I threw the latch, turned and unleashed an unrivaled stream of projectile vomit that the little girl in the Exorcist would have been jealous of. It was maybe four minutes of solid puking, the kind that leaves you tired and shaking, tears in the eyes. Once I was finally empty, and once the dry heaves had subsided, I rinsed out my mouth and washed my face, knowing that in a place this busy that there was bound to be someone that I was keeping from bathroom use. I composed myself and headed back out to join my friends.
Folks had already settled up by the time I returned, so I had the server wrap up the second half of my burger to munch on later, when I felt better and could maybe appreciate it a little more. We went back to the house and as time passed I started feeling a little better. Better enough that I felt I was up to the challenge when our hosts declared that they expected us to finish up this bottle of booze that night.
Woo, there's no way to erase like a bottle of the devil!
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Chestnut Growler plays drums for The Swaggerin' Growlers, a punk/folk band based in Boston, MA. He tours full time. This blog is about the food experienced on the road: the good, the bad, and homemade and the gas station sammiches. You can find the band here: The Swaggerin' Growlers
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