The Fargo Trail

Nothing new for Peter, but here are a few scenes from our drive from Minneapolis to Fargo. The night before we had Jucy Lucys with Phelan -- we were hoping to eat them at three different places, but unfortunately the kitchens at the bars where they're served closed at 10. Sadly no pictures, as the batteries in Peter's camera died.

Flapjacks in Brainerd:


I slammed on the brakes when I saw this sign:


The elusive broasted chicken:



We started driving and eating, but then I insisted on stopping so I could focus on eating, even though we were running late (hence Peter documenting the time):



The chicken was pretty good. As I recall, the cartel that controls the broasting equipment promises that it'll be juicier than your average fried chicken, which I'd say it was. The breast was particularly juicy. The broasting seal also promises a special spice/breading blend, which I found unremarkable.