Meat and Three

If I am ever lucky enough to When I win the lottery, I'm going to open up a Meat and Three in Kansas City. If I am not mistaken, although I'll admit to not being gastro-geographically savvy, this is a southern concept. The term "meat and three" comes from the hand-typed menus, where one picks one meat from a choice of changing daily offerings, and three cholesterol-raising veggies (which is not an oxymoron in the south) from a long list. An alternative is the veggie plate, where you fore-go the meat and choose four veggies. Don't be fooled though. Nothing is vegetarian in a Meat and Three.

I won't manage the place myself, except for frequent visits for quality control. I did my penance as a waitress during my long stay in college, and don't plan on working in a restaurant again. Besides, I never learned to cook southern-style food. My mother and grandmother both worked full time. My grandmother had a cook. My mother reheated canned and frozen vegetables and covered mystery meat with Campbell's soup, like so many women from her generation. And my father, a native Californian, hates southern food, so we never had it at our house when I was growing up.

I will, however, paint big beautiful paintings of dogs, cats and other animals to hang on the walls, despite the fact that the art would have nothing to do with anything there. However, I won't do paintings of cows, pigs, chickens or catfish. That'd be a little unappetizing.

In Memphis at lunch time, patrons line up out doors and around corners in anticipation of fried farm-raised catfish or chicken, good meatloaf (yes, good), chicken and dumplings, country fried steak with white gravy, pork chops, slow-cooked green beans with bacon, broccoli with cheese sauce, fresh corn on the cob, squash casserole, warm corn bread and biscuits with real butter … I could go on and on. The thing I miss most is homemade banana pudding layered with vanilla wafers and fresh whipped cream.

In addition to traditional sweet tea and sodas, which will be listed under the category "Coke," I will also serve non-traditional beer and delicious fizzy waters like La Croix. Maybe they don't go with the foods I listed, but I don't care. It'll be my restaurant. I'll throw in some mint juleps and Southern Comfort for the sake of theme.

My place will have creaky but beautifully finished wooden floors and tin ceilings, repurposed from old buildings. The windows will be big to let the sun stream in. The walls will be painted beautiful bright but rich colors. The waitresses will look older than they are and have husky voices, due to smoking and living hard lives, and they will call their customers "honey" and "darlin" and learn their names, not because it's a rule but because it comes naturally. Customers will pay at the cashier stand, where they will find toothpicks and old style Double-Mint gum. If you want the bill split, you'll just tell the cashier what you had. He/she will ring up each item, crossing them off the handwritten bill as they go. Credit/debit cards will be accepted, but they will be run through antiquated systems where you sign on those tiny receipts and keep the yellow copy.

Before you start thinking Cracker Barrel, let's get one thing straight. I'm talking family-owned, not chain. I'm talking the real deal. Cracker Barrel can keep their kitschy gift shops and rocking chairs and gingham table cloths, although I don't think they have gingham table cloths, but it wouldn't surprise me if they did. Dried or silk flowers will never enter my restaurant, only fresh. No teddy bears with college t-shirts will be found at my place unless some little kid brings one in. And I have nothing against rock candy, but it won't be sold there. It'll be a restaurant, not a truck stop.

And I'm definitely not talking cafeteria.

You might think, "Well Johnson County already has Stroud's." Trust me, people here might think that's good fried chicken, but the transplanted southerners I've spoken to agree that Stroud's food is a little on the bland side. If you live outside the south, do yourself a favor and get some real southern fried chicken the next time you are down there. If you have your choice, get Gus's Fried Chicken. It's a revelation.

Maybe there is a Meat and Three in Kansas City, but the people I've asked didn't know what I was talking about. My apologies to the owner if a true Meat and Three exists here and has escaped my notice.

When If I win the lottery and open my restaurant, you should be forewarned though. If you eat there, you may find yourself speaking with a slow southern drawl afterward.