Last night Gene and I went to Misty's, Lincoln, Nebraska's favorite haunt for Cornhusker spirit and prime rib. The restaurant is luxe a la 1972. There are round booths in which you can imagine Jim Rockford chatting up a perp or Barnaby Jones having nice glass of milk with Jedediah.
But the bar is something else entirely. A loving paean to Cornhusker football, which you can tell from the life size wood or plastic sculpture of a football player in the middle of the big round bar, as well as the copious collection of Leroy Neiman originals depicting great moments on the husker hustings. There is a Jaegermeister dispensing machine, which makes a gratuitous noise, and which was used to serve up two Mexican guys who were busy with a gambling machine of some sorts.
The steaks were good, though nothing else really was. Certainly not the mini-loaf of white bread served on a wooden cutting board, which was, despite being freshly baked, just white bread.
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
Misty's, a Lincoln Classic
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2 comments:
What's up with your unholy Jim Rockford fetish? Please explain.
Do they have Godfather's pizza out there? Now that's a pie.
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