Memories in the hay

I had an excellent Monday night last week. We had a wonderful meal and great entertainment and didn’t have to travel far. It was right here in our own backyard.

It certainly wasn’t the first time we’d been to Mike’s Farm near Beulaville, but year-to-year I tend to forget just how good the place is.

I’ve eaten in thousands of restaurants and some have been extraordinary. But from Paradise Island to Vegas, down Biloxi way and over to Tokyo, nobody else has ever started my dinner with ham biscuits and molasses. Mike does. "Mmmm" doesn’t begin to describe it.

Sundae and Shingo are here from Japan, so we put Mike’s on the top of our list. Ann and I figured baby Andrew would be fascinated by their Christmas hayride through the lights and displays. We already knew we’d love it. We always do.

Luckily I made reservations a few weeks ago. Available tables were already filling up, but the nice lady said they could squeeze our small party into the "outhouse."

Even if my seat had a hole in it, I was thankful to get it.

The name turned out to be a joke as I knew it was. Our table was in a small alcove just perfect for us.

Over the door the sign said "outhouse" but I’ve been in a few of those and this certainly didn’t qualify as one.

The dining room was buzzing with huge parties being seated. I expected the crowds would create some chaos, but the service didn’t suffer one iota. I don’t know who’s in charge of organizing the seating and serving processes, but whoever it is did a great job.

Now in all fairness, our reservations were early (4 p.m.) so it’s possible later in the evening things fell apart.

But, I doubt it. There were no news broadcasts of any Yuletide food fight. And, nobody was reported injured by flying fried chicken parts or drowned in yummy banana pudding.

After we finished, we browsed through the store. I hung around the bakery area taking a few "hits" of the aromas. I’m lucky sniffing fudge isn’t against the law or I’d be typing this from jail.

Our dinner reservations included tickets for the hayride, so we didn’t have to stand in the snaking line to buy them separately. They cranked up the tractors at dusk and we got onboard the hay trailer.

I’m a product of days long gone and don’t get much into modern Christmases. This little country hayride is short on "slickness" and very long on memories. It’s about the best of the season in my opinion.

Success is a two-edged sword, which often slices away rough edges that helped create the success in the first place.

Hopefully these folks’ growing popularity will dodge that fate, at least for the near future.

This isn’t an infomercial for Mike’s Farm. It’s simply a "thank you" for a warm holiday evening with a bunch of nice people.

Otis Gardner’s column appears here each Wednesday. He can be reached at ogardner@embarqmail.com.