Turkey on the Road
My husband and I are from Pennsylvania, so this week we will be driving down for Thanksgiving. The drive is always the same.. 390 to Route 15. Route 15 is the main road for anyone heading south through PA... and it has strange places along it... like Clyde Peelings Reptileland.
One spot that has always intrigued me is the Fry Brother's Turkey Ranch.
They serve all turkey all the time.
Turkey and Waffles, Turkey and Bisquits, Hot Turkey Sandwich. A whole lotta turkey.
Here's the thing... most people driving along Rt. 15 are on a road trip... making their way south through PA. And as delicious as it all is... tryptophan laden turkey is the last thing you want to be eating when you are driving for 6 hours. Yes, we were dumb enough to do it once, but we learned our lesson.
I hope everyone has a safe and Happy Thanksgiving (don't eat too much turkey before getting behind the wheel).
One spot that has always intrigued me is the Fry Brother's Turkey Ranch.
They serve all turkey all the time.
Turkey and Waffles, Turkey and Bisquits, Hot Turkey Sandwich. A whole lotta turkey.
Here's the thing... most people driving along Rt. 15 are on a road trip... making their way south through PA. And as delicious as it all is... tryptophan laden turkey is the last thing you want to be eating when you are driving for 6 hours. Yes, we were dumb enough to do it once, but we learned our lesson.
I hope everyone has a safe and Happy Thanksgiving (don't eat too much turkey before getting behind the wheel).
Labels: food, holiday, restaurant
posted by ljc at 11:44 AM
I'm Jenny, and I came to Rochester to get my Master's at RIT and *SURPRISE!* ... 10 years later I'm still here with:
2 Comments:
Fry Bros is legendary in my family. When my grandmother died, my father took his inheritance and sunk it into a giant used motor home. Our first big trip was to meet my mother in Orlando after a business trip. Dad had all four of us by ourselves. It only took the trip from WNY to Fry Bros for all of us to be really sick of each other.
As Dad pulled into the gas station (which I don't think is there anymore), I was annoying reading signs and said, "Look! They have kerosene here!" My oldest brother told me to shut up, that we weren't getting any. Dad pumped us some "gas", and then, we went in, had some turkey and baked fries (did you get those?! Yummy, like at home!).
When we came out to leave, the giantantic motor home didn't have enough power to get over the hump of the parking lot into the road. Apparently kerosene is not equivalent to gas when you're talking about power. Long story (somewhat short), a tow truck with the five of us (300-lb) dad sitting on the dashboard) and the driver took that thing down the mountain to an autoshop, with Dad nervously watching the thing swing out into the other lane at every bend.
It was quite the trip to Disney, and now everytime we make that trip through PA, we have to stop at Fry Bros.
That is a great story... thank you for sharing!
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