There's something about being on a motorcycle trip that makes me throw food caution to the wind. Literally. Because so much time is spent analyzing the road ahead, feeling and adapting to the variations of the pavement, leaning and accelerating ad infinitum, and staying upright in sometimes wickedly unpredictable wind, the last thing I want to do is think about eating something fancy and nuanced. I just want to fuel up and get on with either starting the day, pressing on to the day's destination or just going to sleep.
So it's my chance to go a bit nuts and allow myself all of the things that I will only order or cook for myself maybe once a year (if that). 3/4 lb. bacon, guacamole cheeseburger, cooked rare with a large mound of fries? Check. Chicken-fried steak with country cream gravy, eggs and hash browns? Check. And if any restaurant, while on a moto-trip, has biscuits and gravy on the menu, there is no question that I will be eating that with whatever else I order. Multiple times, if necessary. During the same meal, if necessary. And loving every damn, heart-stopping minute of it. Check. And check.
Recently, I was in charge of planning the meal stops for a three day motorcycle trip to Kings Canyon (south of Yosemite National Park in California). Except for the organizer of the trip, Dan, I knew no one else on this trip, so I chose from the "hearty and satisfying" column figuring that the need to replenish in simple ways would be universal. And I was right. Mostly. Now before you start painting a mental image of the brain bucketed, leather chaps n' vests, unshaven and wet from the road biker Harley dude, stop. These guys aren't those guys. Not that there is anything wrong with those guys; these guys are a bit more (dare I say it) sophisticated. And their tastes are as well.
(photo by Mike Zeminsky)
But to stay in the "keep-it-simple-Emeril!" category for the first night's meal, I chose the Black Bear Diner (a small chain restaurant with locations in California and the coast states plus Colorado and Arizona) simply because they had variety. I read some reviews and they had some decent marks from loads of people. And not pissing off the riders after a somewhat hectic five hour run through the heart of manure-scented Central California was probably my ticket to not getting either abandoned, lynched and/or short-sheeted.
The simple fact that the Black Bear Diner serves breakfast for dinner scored me points almost immediately. The extra bonus about that was everyone who saw the breakfast fare, wanted to return for breakfast the next day. This completely trumped my breakfast pick of a different restaurant for the next morning that was described by a local as "[They] are terrible. They are right off the freeway, they get many tourists and so they just don't give a shit...". Phew. Thanks for the life-saving tip, Mr. Mountain Man.
The pick of the menu seemed to be the chicken-fried steak (with country gravy, 'natch). They had three different menu items for it too. A "senior" portion, a "breakfast" portion and a "bigfoot-sized" portion. We got a look at just two: the "breakfast" and the "bigfoot". It would appear that the "senior" portion would have probably been the one that had any sort of circulatory system sanity but where's the fun in that? Plus we were HUNGRY, dammit.
The "breakfast" portion was a nearly 7" round, thin slab of pounded-so-you-can-cut-it-with-a-fork chicken-fried steak perfection. The dollop of country gravy on top was pretty damn good too. Not gluey or industrial tasting, I'd venture to guess it's made fresh. Potatoes, eggs and a biscuit as big as a ham-hocked fist "rounded" [ahem] out the meal. And the "bigfoot" portion? Let's just say that a plate of food that large...er, tall...er, whatever...should not be legal anywhere. Our intrepid test subject went face-down into his plate after finishing almost half of it. He did have a smile on his face, however. For the rest of the day.
happy (and full) biker Dan (photo by Mike Zeminsky)
Much to the delight of the group, the BBD also serves spaghetti and meatballs. For BREAKFAST. Yes, breakfast, that time where you're waking up your senses to a good cup of coffee or tea, a refreshing glass of fruit juice and then hammering all that away with a 15' plate of spaghetti and meatballs. At least two of the riders enjoyed this dinner-for-breakfast route and I didn't much care if the meal reappeared down the line in some form, I collected my meal planning points and moved ON. Wheee!
But really, Black Bear serves nearly everything that a diner should and most of it is pretty good. It's not Masa's or Bouchon but it doesn't have to be. Straight ahead, hearty, satisfiying...oh, and throw inexpensive in there too. Everyone enjoyed it and we returned the next morning to boot. It was just the ticket for the meal kick off of a nutty motorcycle road trip where the livin' needs to be as easy as possible because the riding sometimes isn't.
