You have heard the song title and subsequent references for said title many times. I’m Back in the Saddle Again.
Well…the weather is cooperating and I am back on the back porch again this beautiful and reasonably cool Saturday morning. This is quite the juxtaposition from where we have been the past week or more when it has been intensely hot and even more-so humid. Like many of you, my pipes can’t take that recipe too well. Translation: I have breathing difficulties within the confines of a weather pattern that will run me indoors in a hurry. I don’t like that. I like being outside when I type my speaks! Just like many miss the sound of a banging clanging typewriter when they write, I enjoy hearing the occasional bird or jet that is losing altitude as it takes the west to east pattern over my head to Louisville’s Standiford Field. Squirrels in the walnut trees scurry and yammer a bit, like only they can. Throw in the crickets and the tree frogs and you have quite the natural symphony that one can’t get when relying on piped in clean cool air to sustain and preserve one’s ability to breath clearly.
Translation: Man I’m glad to be on the back porch again!
Last weekend my dear wife, Carrie, and I stopped at an eatery in North Vernon, Indiana just on the east end of town as we were heading west on Highway 50. Grateful Grubb was the name of the place.
Now understand what I am about to suggest is something I would not suggest you eat on a daily basis.
Some of us were not blessed with a genetic code that allows us to eat what we want, when we want, and as much as we want without serious repercussions. I am one of those people. I am proud to say that going on more than two years now, the is much less mass of me than there was. I lost a considerable amount of weight and I have been able to find my way without finding it on me again.
I can look real hard at 5 or 6 doughnuts and that alone will make me have to loosen the belt on my pants. If I smell them for any considerable amount of time, I might as well sit down and rest for a few minutes.
Grateful Grubb in North Vernon was one of those days I threw caution to the country road. We were on a Highway that runs from Ocean City, Maryland to San Francisco. I felt I owed it to the spirit of sea to shining sea…it was time for a tenderloin!
The tenderloin sandwich is indigenous to Indiana, so I have heard. You won’t find it (at least I have not found it) on the menu in North Carolina or Texas or Mississippi or Colorado or Hawaii or Maine…but I think you may find it in Wisconsin and Illinois.
There is a considerable German-Dutch population in Indiana and much of the Midwest and the tenderloin may just be an American way of saying Wiener Schnitzel…Austrian in origin and enjoyed by many around its borders in Europe.
The tenderloin is a pork cutlet that in most cases is pounded and pounded some more until it is about a quarter inch thick and breaded and fried. They are usually placed on a small bun (in the places I have ordered them) and one must fold the tenderloin a few times just to get it within the confines of the bun. I warn you against such a practice.
My tenderloin eating experience…and I consider myself well-versed… has led me to the practice of tearing off the pieces that hang over the bun. I set these pieces aside and look around the table for the nearest bottle of ketchup. After acquiring the ketchup, I proceed to place a handsome amount of the tomato delight on my plate and I use my fingers, as I think the Lord intended, to take loose tenderloin pieces and dip them in the ketchup before placing them properly in my chewing factory. Enjoy.
Grateful Grubb in North Vernon had all the great expectations of a good tenderloin experience…but…oh my…their tenderloin was indeed truly tender. It was a half-inch thick and was not tough at all. It was moist, juicy, and bordering on the tenderloin unheard of “fluffy”. Wow. It was the best tenderloin I have ever had. The service in the Grateful Grubb was impeccable and right now my waistline is glad the Grateful Grubb is over 80 miles from our house. Otherwise their tenderloin supply would be in considerable danger and so would I.
It is not often that I am compelled to photograph a sandwich. This time, I just knew I was headed for greatness thanks the good folks at Grateful Grubb.
Speaking and eating the rights.
Danny Johnson