RUBBER CHICKENS

RUBBER CHICKENS

During this season of travelling for vacation, it is important to remember that among the most underappreciated items in the world are inflatable and/or rubber animals. In my hunting backpack, with today’s growing armament and gear used for hunting, I keep; a water bottle, compass, GPS, extra bullets, umbrella, extra warm or dry clothes, screw in hooks, a pulley, scents, calls, sandwiches and a rubber chicken…don’t laugh, you never know when you’ll need a GPS. During the last deer opener, when the zipper exploded on my Winnebago sized backpack and all the stuff was launched out of it into the dark, the rubber chicken saved my bacon (literally). When I stepped on the chicken, it let out its’ patented (mighty) squeal and while looking down to pick it up, I spied my peanut butter and bacon sandwich, nearly invisible as it was carefully stowed in a camo Ziploc baggie, saving my regimented diet plan.

On any hunting and fishing trip, eating is a big component. If not the game and fish that we hope to catch, we also must plan meals at a restaurant or three…a day. So, not only do we spend time trying to find good fishing and hunting spots, we can spend almost as much time trying to hunt down a good establishment. Once again the rubber chicken comes into play for the sportsman.

While visiting our own sporting mecca, here in Cameron County, sportsmen have it made. They have the Cabin Kitchen, Pizza Palace and the Buttonwood, not to mention solid places to get something fried with a beer. But getting out and travelling in the big world, things get a little tougher. Hunting for a good fried chicken or rib roast can be a dangerous and risky proposition. I’ve learned that tracking down a great establishment, one that can fulfill the proper sportsmen’s dietary requirements like having a good grease to cheese and sauce ratio or the proper number of inches of fry batter is similar to tracking a bear or a deer, you’ve got to read the sign along the trail.

Signs of restaurants that spell trouble to a sportsman’s diet and wallet plan are a violinist near the front door (reference the Jersey Shore episode of 2002). Valet parking makes me nervous, being along a main avenue or drag is a sign of trouble and at times, though more complicated, well lighted parking areas and waiters who don’t speak English are red flags.

For the perfect meal, I’ve got to really scour the countryside and I look for the following things: a dirt parking lot, the establishment must be surrounded by at least a grassy yard and preferably an agricultural crop. The sign can be hand painted or on a roll out lighted billboard. (If the name of the establishment has the word, “shack” in it, all the better). The building can be in a trailer or a converted old shed with clapboard. If it is formally built and doesn’t have a tin roof, I prefer a shell of an old Pizza Hut type of place. Now that we have the basics down, I must mention that those things alone don’t guarantee that you’ve hit the trophy level of travel eating, just that you’re in the neighborhood. A rookie vacation eater might get suckered into the allure of parking in a cornfield and strolling up to the converted grain bin for ribs but you’re still taking a risk, there is more to look for.

You need to see a smoker…or at least smoke pouring from some part of the restaurant (the smoker can be outside). If you see a black sedan parked in the back with a guy standing by the trunk, even better, that’s where drinks are served. (If you see smoke coming from the woods or copper tubing, don’t ask any questions that start with, “Is that a….” just relax and enjoy yourself). A shotgun leaning in a corner is always a comforting sight, a nice touch and a sign of country quality and sincerity.

If you forget all of that stuff there is only one thing to remember when looking for a quality dining experience and that is where the “rubber chicken meets the road” theory kicks in. Look for a giant inflatable animal somewhere…on…the restaurant. I’m pretty sure there is a secret board somewhere that approves how big and where the inflatable animal goes that corresponds with how good the restaurant in question is; this system is unquestionably accurate. The bigger the inflatable animal the better, if it is a ten foot one in the parking lot you’re going to have an acceptable experience. If it is on the roof and engulfs the entire building, put the feed bag on, you’re going to feast in Valhalla.

A giant crab with its’ huge inflated claws draped down into the corn field provided a meal that I shall never forget, consisting, of “all you could eat” Chesapeake blue crab with Old Bay seasoning and pitchers of beer. I think the name of the place was “Earl’s Crab Shack” an appropriate name, which could give the contemporary mind nightmares, but mercifully, for those suckers, you couldn’t really read the whole thing because it appeared that the inflatable crab had a taste for red latex paint and was, apparently, eating the sign.

Giant chickens correspond to some of the crunchiest, freshest, fried chicken you can eat, just watch out for the feathers…they’ll tickle your tongue. A giant inflatable pig means put the bib on and don’t forget the huge catfish at the “River Shack”, however getting into that may take more training to differentiate from the bait store…anyway now you know how to properly eat and maintain a sportsman’s diet while on the road. Don’t forget to enjoy the fishing and hunting.

See you along the stream.