The 100th version of the State Fair of Oklahoma starts this week, and from the amount of media coverage this event receives, one might venture to say that it's a "right big deal."
But that's not what this blog entry is about.
I occassionally have breakfast in a little joint a few miles down the road that sells some very delectable cinnamon rolls. For those who will not venture this far into the depths of central OK, the bakers make fresh batches of the Princess Leia-hairbun-shaped pastries daily to sell at their booth in the "Made in Oklahoma" building during the run of the State Fair.
While the town where this family run cinnamon roll roadside eatery resides is better known for it's combination ancient bar/fried chicken establishment, the hot joe, folksy servers, amusing regular clientele and of course, the sticky-gooey-cardiac-arresting buns, made it an instant hit with me.
The main dining room is big and spacious, with privacy booths of little consequence, since regulars speak loud enough so that everyone in the joint can hear their stories of woe or whimsy. The pervasive scent of the utterly perverted warm and soft cinnamon rolls makes you wish for the metabolism of Lance Armstrong.
They also package a dozen or so rolls up into a tin tray, shrink wrap them, and sell them at a few fortunate grocery stores in the area.
I've eaten them out of the package.
Warmed either in the microwave, or by holding it under my armpit for a few minutes.
Good, but not quite a memorex experience.
I've eaten them at the Fair.
Good, but slightly smaller than the one's you'll get in their dining room and too many eyes are watching you at that venue to make for a comforting culinary experience.
And, I've eaten them at their restaurant.
With a nice size cup of decaf, a shiny fork and slightly dented but entirely useable knife.
It was better.