On the basis of a recommendation from the New York Times, Etta and I ate at the oldest continuously operating restaurant in Iowa. They have been featured on the Food Network for having fantastic homemade pies for hundreds of years. I read about the restaurant on wikipedia: “In the 1920s, a traveling group of gypsies came by. In exchange for food and lodging, one of them painted a mural on the barroom wall of the view of the Mississippi valley as seen from the property. The mural was later walled over and forgotten. Later still a remodeling effort uncovered the mural, which was restored, covered with glass and illuminated. It was a long-time feature of the restaurant.” However, when we arrived the mural and entire original building had burned down and been rebuilt. For Sunday dinner they were serving a steam table buffet of grey and brown foods. They served us rancid meat. Etta wanted to make a scene but when I talked to the owner I looked through the portals to his soul and decided against it. We got the check and got the hell out, pausing only for me to ask for a piece of pie to go: the place was out of pies.