Last week I had lunch with my cousin. He is living the dream of being a senior at MSU with a post-graduation job waiting for him, in short, he has hit the jackpot. Ahh, college.
When I called him at 12:15 and heard his voice, I knew that it had been a late night and he was hungover. I made the executive decision that we would head to the Harrison Roadhouse so he could get the fries that would surely cure what ailed him.
It's been a few years since my last meal at the Harrison Roadhouse. I remembered it being pretty good, but sadly, this wasn't the case last week. I had a Philly cheesesteak, which was oddly served on ciabatta bread and which disgustingly included a layer of cream cheese. I scraped as much as I could out of the sandwich after my first bite, because the flavor was distracting and the texture wasn't doing the sandwich any favors.