I’ve been planning a post all weekend that involves Scott coloring pictures of Sleeping Beauty, getting confused for Captain America, and wearing red lipstick. And yes, these events all occurred in the same extremely confusing yet ridiculously fun day.
Unfortunately, I was way too exhausted/busy/behind schedule to crank it out in time for today, as we just returned home from a weekend of fun in Nebraska.
The good news?
I’ve since stumbled upon a restaurant you simply have to experience. (If you’re willing and/or able to travel to Nebraska, that is.)
Roosters at Pheasant Bonanza is a 1950s hunting style bar and restaurant located at Pheasant Bonanza Hunt Club in Tekamah, NE. Our dear friend is the General Manger of the resort, and had invited is for a weekend of turkey hunting (I stayed back for that part) and fine dining at the new restaurant. Let me just say that I had ridiculously high expectations, which were completely blown out of the water. This place is, for lack of a better gangsta phrase, off the chain.
Roosters is open Thursday and Saturday evenings, and features a prix fixe menu that changes weekly. For twenty-five dollars a person, you’ll enjoy an appetizer (smoked pheasant, cheese that is more addicting than crack cocaine, and some homemade focaccia that I’m sure Scott will attempt to recreate this week.) Our entrée included the best scallops I’ve ever eaten, jumbo prawns, smoked pork belly and a creamy polenta that pretty much changed Scott’s life. He cried out “polenta!” in his sleep last night, which I’ll take as a sign he was dreaming about it. Dessert was a deliciously dense pineapple upside down cake with a Tuaca-soaked cherry and some bomb-diggity cream cheese frosting.
(Food critics totally use the phrase “bomb-diggity” right?)
Other than purchasing Sheila, that meal just may have been the best $25 I’ve ever spent. The chef makes everything from scratch, uses only the best ingredients, and will prepare you something that is on par with meals you’d pay three times as much for in New York or Seattle.
Have I convinced you to travel to Nebraska, yet?
Oh…and don’t forget to tell them I sent you. They’ll make sure to give you a massive discount.
Alright…fine. I made the discount thing up. While I don’t think I can score you half-off your meal, the manager was Scott’s college roommate, so you’ll at least get some embarrassing stories from undergrad.
And honestly? Those stories are way better than a discount in the first place. (Especially when enjoyed over a platter of smoked pheasant and cheese that’s more addicting than crack cocaine. Take my word for it.)