Today, my Wednesday lunch buddy and I headed off to brave the oddness that is the freaky kangaroo restaurant, Le Relais des Trappeurs (which I think is the french equivalent of saying “the Trapper Diner,” or the equivalent of a truck stop, but for trappers/hunters as opposed to… well, truckers).
This place is kitsch de chez kitsch, from the wall mural, confederate flags and bald eagles, and indian headdresses galore. Add to that classic country music such as the Tennessee Waltz, and you’ll have the idea.
We ordered once we had made up our minds… I opted for the ostrich (why not?) and Carrie went for a “Chiken” (yes, that’s how it is spelled) salad of some sort. With their people only two other people in the restaurant (already halfway through their meal), our food came rather quickly, and in quite the americanized quantity as well:
Presented on a cutting board, I was a bit overwhelmed by the amount of food. The waitress presented it to us, then invited us to help ourselves to whatever sauces we would like at the sauce bar (full of barbecue, mustards, vinigrettes, etc) and to serve ourselves at the cave