Griffin Grill

Perhaps, it was the high from the just completed successful climb and descent of the highpoint in World's End Park.  The view from Loyalsock Ridge continued to dwell within; and my legs were stiff from exertion; but my hunger was even bigger than that in the moment.  I had exhausted whatever reserve lay within me, and my body needed replenishment.  My soul was on a high that would not come back to Earth for several days.

Cruised into Laporte hoping to find just the right place.  I allowed intuition to be my guide (Sometimes we need to trust in a higher authority then even Yelp). We passed a country carnival full of families having fun. Did not want the noise just then, but wished everyone a wonderful evening of Carney magic and sweet funnel cakes.

Just past the crowds I spied Griffin Grill on Main Street.  I tried to imagine what kind of cuisine might be represented by the mythic Eagle-headed, lion-bodied creature. No clue, but the notion of eating in the lair of a mythical beast seemed just about a perfect culmination of our adventure. I would not have been surprised if we had come across a griffin in the forests of World's End. It was just that kind of day. So maybe we were still in the ZONE.

Turned out this was an Italian rabbit hole we dove into.  Cool with early evening light pouring through the front windows, a blackboard full of specials, and a tiny bar complete with tin type panels on the risers.  The waitress seemed to know who we were as she greeted us with a, "Hi, Guys. We've been waiting for you." She was from Philly in a past life and appreciated my orange Flyers long sleeve (it was getting cool).

She directed us to homemade ice tea, lemonade, and of course, spontaneously poured Arnold Palmer's. She gave us the lowdown on the owner/chef who was in the kitchen pounding a chicken breast into submission before applying bread crumbs for the parmigiana house special. I wanted it. The eggplant variant was taken by my friend.  

Drank 2 large Arnie's before the meal arrived.  The balsamic for the salad was so thick it could not be poured out of the bottle where it had been mixed earlier.  I had to remove the cork pourer and shake it out of its cave.  Thicker than mud, but like TNT on the palate.  BOOM!  I had to spread it on the salad with my fork.  It was the best unexpected salad dressing ever for me.  Strong, take no prisoners uncompromising Grit of Balsamic. Loved it.  They later apologized for this and thanked me for telling them about it.

The Chicken Parm may not have been perfect, but it reminded of my Italian days in Trenton. The Pasta and Gravy was authentic, and the Braised Zucchini came with a wonderful Glaze that I sopped up with the homemade bread. My friend's Eggplant came out in a much smaller plate than my meal, but was delicious.

Confession - I even had dessert last night, something I seldom do. But, I was on a streak of good fortune and it carried forward with the last slice of Peanut Butter Pie in the house. Creamy, chocolate Oreo base, caloric disaster. But, I was in Heaven.

By the time we returned to our campsite, I was ready for sleep and the next act of this play, and hoped it would never end.

Great meal, in the middle of no where!