Rutt's Hut

It's been a rough April and May - we're only four days in. What the hell?

I came home from work, pushed the button for the elevator, and when the doors opened, Adam was headed for the basement to do laundry.  He asked if I wanted to go to Rutt's Hut for dinner, so we went upstairs to drop off the dirty laundry and headed out for a deep fried hot dog adventure.  The first time I went there, I was maybe 12 or 13, which is now less than HALF MY LIFETIME ago, and I hope to go as many times as possible before I get the chronic runs and/or a heart attack.

We ordered two rippers (I always order them as hot dogs), mozzarella fries with gravy, regular fries, a cheeseburger and a pitcher of Pepsi.  Let me explain their soda servings are small, or normal really, and while a glass of soda for me is fine, Adam has had to order enough glasses in the past that it made more sense financially to just get a pitcher, although I don't think we ever finish the pitcher.   Anyway.  Rutt's Hut is one of the best places to eat.  It's super casual, not loaded with turds, pretty cheap, but good and a true gem.

The waitresses are always kind of crabby, but fast and still attentive, and they sit together at a table in the dining room counting and sorting their tips.  It's practically like they fan out their money on their table and add it up into their shoeboxes.  I fucking love them.

The last two pictures are from a dollar store and a Pier 1.  If the watermelon nightmare does not scream Sandra Lee Semi-Homemade, I don't know what does.  I can almost taste her tacky cocktails.