The cross-country road trip has long been a rite of passage for Americans, whether they have automobiles or not. The highway’s appeal as a means of travel may be declining as we motorists come to terms with our means, but its cultural status as a harbinger of freedom and a path to the promised land remains immortal. Ironically, it wasn’t long after the words “road trip” entered the national lexicon that this path was populated with national hotel and restaurant chains, eager to back the promise of a new world with the brand names of the old one. We can drive as far as we want, but unless we’re willing to shift to second and look beyond the neon hustle, the open road is nothing more than a firing range.

Of course, when a road trip involves real destinations and the reality of a budget, following in the treads of beat writers and French standard poodles ceases to be an option. What is a semi-adventurous traveler to do? When I touched down in Omaha and picked up the keys to Bessita II, this was the question on my mind.

As I talked shop with my contact at the Slowdown, I realized that, like most questions in life, this one would soon evolve into, “What is a hungry man to do?” Not content to settle for a predictable downtown dinner but not in any position to scout the best kept secrets of Omaha’s dining counters, I decided to give the question one more spin for my new friend: “Where can a hungry man find some strange fast food?”

I was immediately directed to Runza, a Nebraskan fast food chain whose namesake is a flavorless sandwich roll stuffed with ground beef and cabbage, then baked to drive-thru perfection. Descended from a more rustic form of meat pastry served by German immigrants in the 19th century, the runza is similar to a Russian pirozhok or, as an Omaha native aptly noted, to an American Hot Pocket.

In any case, I took his advice, grabbing a Runza and an order of fries, stopping off for a big bottle of Beck’s and kicking back in my hotel room for the inaugural meal of my own long drive down the American highway.

The Original Runza was exactly what I was promised: a bland, doughy dinner roll that enveloped a lumpy trail of ground beef and shredded cabbage. Seasoned with salt, pepper, and more salt, the runza’s filling saturated my palette with the salty flavor of salt and the factory crushed body of 100% US ground beef. The lifeless cabbage provided some nice bits of interstitial texture, but was otherwise irrelevant to the salty beer bait it buttressed. Runza’s fries were even better: crinkle-cut and perfectly crisped, they kept the soggier qualities of the runza in check and anchored the meal in the deep-fried tradition of roadside cuisine.

Local secret it ain’t, but I’ll be damned if Runza’s isn’t the first neon sign I seek out the next time my wheels cross the border into Nebraska. She ain’t a beauty, but hey- she’s alright, and that’s alright with me.

Runza
Omaha, NE
USA

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This entry was posted on Thursday, September 11th, 2008 at 10:43 pm and is filed under None.