Friday, February 26, 2016

Farmer's Market Restaurant, Homestead

Krome Avenue, named for Henry Flagler's railroad engineer who died on the job laying track to Key West. It's not a pretty street at the south end of Homestead where the agricultural produce of the area is processed for shipping.
South Florida is almost always frost free and with a year round growing season produces tons of food for export across the country. 
It was a slightly odd weekend for us, picking up a dog by myself while my wife was at The Mouse in Orlando with family members. We met up Monday and on our way back home we stopped at this place, found by chance by herself, a convenient stop for future reference.
It reminded me of the Beach Street Cafe in Watsonville California where I used to eat breakfast when I drove a school bus in the Pajaro River Valley. Like Homestead, Watsonville is  a huge producer of fruits and vegetables with refrigerated plants to process the stuff for shipping. For it's all deja vu when I am in Homestead.
This place is cavernous and we were in after the breakfast crowd and well before lunch so we had it to ourselves.
My wife ordered biscuits and gravy and got a  giant plate of bacon and eggs thrown in, for nine bucks.
I ordered catfish and eggs though it was the mildest white-est catfish I ever ate. I thoroughly enjoyed it as I like fish and eggs for breakfast weirdly enough. 
John Deere was the predominant theme of the decor. Our waitress was really nice to us so we bumpkins were made quite welcome. I never had to admit that I plowed a few fields in my youth but gave up on farming as a bad job. 

Weren't we surprised to be greeted by a small brown dog who took it on himself to jump out of the car and greet us sheepishly as we approached. I have no idea how to end this bad habit but Rusty might limit his ability to hang out with me if I can't trust him to stay in the care. Hopefully time will cure him of this need to put himself at risk.
No pretensions here but we will be back. It's a good stopping off point coming or going from the Keys.
Homestead, Florida
Back home Rusty looked exactly like he knew what he wanted to enjoy.
Cudjoe Key
His own front yard. Not bad for a former stray.