About 10 miles north of town there’s a tiny little roadside smokehouse called Dean’s, where the drinks are served in tin mugs, the tables are dressed in vinyl and you can get one of the best steaks in Mississippi for a just a few bucks. We like to come to Dean’s about once a month, and would probably come more if it weren’t so packed every night. All day I ate like a bird so I would be adequately hungry for our dinner date with Emily, Ross, Laura, and Laura’s daddy since Jim, Mal and Josh were all out of town tonight.
It was worth every growl of my hungry stomach this afternoon to eat the entire BBQ chicken smokehouse potato by myself.
And Mr. Daryl was sweet enough to share some of his sweet potato fries with me, too.
P.S. I only ate 2 fried pickle slices, which is a real testament to the depths of my self-control efforts.