There are things to eat in places around America that are unique.  They just don't seem to be able to be copied.  Darrell Anderson had a place called Thomas's restaurant in Pryor Oklahoma.  He raised his own beef and when he cooked a steak, it melted in your mouth.  

When he was a kid in school, the Thomas's told him if he would work there for them and stay with it, they would give him right of purchase when they retired.  And they did.  He grew up cooking there--and whatever else was needed--and was able to buy a business.

Truckers coming from Dallas to Kansas City on Highway 69 knew the place.  Ever trucker in America knew.   Darrell knew how to cook.  Truckers would park across the railroad tracks and walk to the restaurant.  

Everyone in town ate there at least once a week.  I loved the vegetable plate.  It always had brown sugar breaded tomatoes, brown beans, hard boiled egg on lettuce and tomato and french fries.  And whatever else was on the stove that day.  And homemade yeast rolls.  Ohhhh...they were wonderful.

Darrell got Parkinson's and gave it up.  But in the mind of every citizen in Pryor, there is a memory of that place.  And Darrell.  He knew everybody's name.

I've found a new unique place to eat.  It's a hole in the wall in Jones Okla that fries catfish.  The catfish steaks are the size of a dinner plate and only one other time in my life have I eaten catfish to compare--down in the delta.

My daughter Pat told me about it.  "Go get a couple of catfish sandwiches for us," she said.  "It's across from the library."  Nondescript.  Delicious.  "UMMM."