Nelson's - Guest Blogger: Steve Higgins

Being handed the last plate of Nelson’s chicken fried steak while a pack of hungry carnivores stands impatiently in line behind you makes one feel slightly like an usher at The Who’s 1979 Cincinnati show.

When this happens twice on consecutive visits, one may wonder if next time things could get ugly.

It’s a testament to the well-oiled (and I mean well-oiled) machine that is Nelson’s Ranch House (né Buffeteria) that the next sizzling hot batch of CFS is only minutes away. By the time the beef-craving horde has tucked into its plates of pillowy, gravy-smattered mashed potatoes, green beans cooked to the brink of deterioration and, of course, steak, they’ve happily drifted off into a state of comfort-food bliss, completely forgetting about the minor delay in service.

This is down-home cooking as it should be – no frills, no apologies and no substitutions. The potatoes manage to be lump-free and at the same time, still taste like potatoes. The unctuous white gravy covers everything cozily, like grandma’s favorite quilt. The other “sides,” (aka vegetables) are mostly an afterthought, but the okra and mac n’ cheese are satisfying enough to make it worth the trip for a vegetarian at the table. (A “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy is encouraged when it comes to the use of pork fat in the green beans.)

And then there’s the steak itself. The hallmarks of classic CFS are all there: Tenderness, check. Crunchy crust, check. Ample size, check.

Yes, the food lives up to its lofty heritage. But in the end, Nelson’s doesn’t sell lunch as much as it sells nostalgia — a communal road trip back in time to a Tulsa where people’s lives seemed simpler and happier. Did that Tulsa ever really exist, outside of our gravy-clouded psyches?

Maybe or maybe not. But order the pie, just in case.