Burp. . .

Because it was, for me, an unusual occurrence, I must comment on my recent trip to a restaurant, something which I have rarely done before in such close proximity to the last such visit. Actually, I wish I could afford to make such dining a regular practice.

First born and I traveled to yet another pleasant little town to sup with a gentleman her sister wanted us to meet. She craved our validation, which we, as families do, did not withhold.

The establishment was called the Black Bear, with appropriate carved wood statues of the same out front. A sign also announced "Family Food," which inspired a certain amount of apprehensive curiosity. It turns out there is a chain of these eateries, mostly in the West, in smaller towns. On a Saturday night, it was liberally peopled with casually attired locals and travelers from off the adjacent freeway.

We were seated in a booth near a juke box which filled my ears with '50s popular music, which, after a while, I was able to tune out. When I listen to music, I listen to music; and when I eat, I prefer silence punctuated only by occasional witty table talk.

For $13-14 per order, we received more food than I have ever been served for that price. I chose the pot roast, as "family" as you can get. I would also like to say it was generously delicious, but "a little bland" comes to mind. I did eat it all, however, much to my intestinal discomfort. As a bonus, the one being scrutinized picked up the check, but we would have assessed him fairly without that display of largesse. . . I would hope.

I can't wait to go back to try another, hopefully tastier, entree. However, I plan to order the "senior portion" at $12, so that I may have room for one of their attractive desserts.