I wish I could highly recommend a restaurant on the long drive through California from Los Angeles to Sacramento, and if I did, it would rhyme with Sin ‘N’ Doubt. But there is only one of those and you have to be hungry by the time you hit that particular mile marker, otherwise you might find yourself, once again, going to Apricot Tree Restaurant even though the food is not all that.
Where is Apricot Tree you ask? I’m glad you asked, because I was just about to tell you. It is in the Fresno-ish part of California on I-5 (or “The Five” if you’re from Southern California.) It’s in a little town called Firebaugh - formerly, Firebaugh’s Ferry. You’re probably wondering why it used to be called Firebaugh’s Ferry. As it happens, there used to be a ferry that took greedy bastards Goldrushers across the San Joaquin River. This was back before bridges. And sidewalks. And black presidents. Also, if any of you are punk rock fans and know of a band called the Circle Jerks, you may recall a song of theirs that goes… “If your car breaks down, don’t take a tow to Firebaugh…”
So now you might be asking yourself, why in the H.E. Double-Hockey Sticks would I stop at such a God-forsaken place? Because of the lunch boxes, of course. And if you’d just quit interrupting me and let me finish my dang story, you’d know why already.
Know what’s on the menu at Apricot Tree? Apricot bread pudding, apricot milkshakes, apricot pie…it’s the Bubba Gump of Apricots. Also? The Whatever Platter….whatever that is. I wouldn’t order that if I were you.
But who cares about the food, I go for the sites. Here, let me show you:
There are all these lunch boxes that line the ceilings.
Hundreds, maybe thousands of ‘em.
And thermoses line the booth dividers:
The woman at the table on the other side of those thermoses couldn’t stand it, I guess, and she came around to our table and said something about seeing me take pictures of the lunch boxes and how she had a Woody Woodpecker lunch box when she was a kid and doesn’t this place take you back and blah blah blah.
This kind of thing always sets my husband and I off on a conversation afterwards about how if we approached some stranger and started blathering on about our childhood, they would think we were social misfits or completely crazy. This woman, we thought, was just being nice….or was she? You know, Coalinga State Hospital isn’t too far down the road…{BONG! – cuckoo!… cuckoo!}
Anyway, up near the front, encased in glass, are the special collector’s lunch boxes, like these here:
And if that doesn’t burn your wickie, you can waltz on over to the gift shop and buy yourself some of this crap:
Cause you know, they only have this stuff in Firebaugh, so you HAVE to buy it NOW.
Or perhaps a pelican cookie jar is more up your alley…
And if you still have room for fun, you can always throw a few quarters (or is it dollars now?) in this:
That’s the Apricot tree, 150 miles south of Sacramento (and San Francisco) on I-5. Just keep your eyes peeled for this sign:
And expect food not quite as good as Denny’s.
And I can’t tell you whether or not to order the “Whatever Platter”. It might be best to stick with something apricotty. People seem to LOVE the apricot muffins and apricot pie, but you are kind of risking your life by ordering any type of meal. Reviews vary widely.
While the rest of you are wagging your fingers at me in disapproval, SOME people are rewarding me for my smart-ass, juvenile-at-times, silly behavior. Take for example, Cari over at Not Quite a Fairy Tale. I get all silly up in her comment section and win some yummy Seattle goodies. I have no idea what I’ve won exactly – I guess I’ll have to call Johnny so he can tell me what I’ve won (You know, as in, “Tell her what she’s won, Johnny!” … Ohhhh, did you hear that? That was the death knell of the game show.) So, thank you, Carebear! MWAH!!
