Corky's Beal City Tavern

I walked in hopeful. I walked out a witness.

Someone behind the counter was pouring ranch from one bottle into another. In broad daylight. I don’t make the rules, but if your ranch can be transferred between commercial containers, it’s store-bought. That’s all she wrote.

The table caddy was a delight, though. Every condiment you could want, including a sugar jar repurposed as a pickle holder. The pickles were good and kept the hunger at bay while I processed what I’d just seen. The onion rings were excellent. The burger was burgery.

My husband got the bluegill basket and liked it. The tartar leaned sweet instead of the dill version I prefer, but that’s a me thing. Then came the coleslaw. He handed me a bite without saying a word. One taste in, I asked him if that was his way of asking for a divorce.

Not all ranch is created equal. This one came from a jug. A Marzetti one, to be specific.