Last week, I professed my love for white trash enchiladas. Last night, I sat at the bar of a metro area stalwart with a new name and concept and swelled my belly with white trash au gratin potatoes, which, as you can see from the above photo, are unassailable food porn. True, they were on the soupy side, but in every other way, the layered spuds, submerged in a bechamel sauce all cheesy with cheddar and lots of yellow American, easily qualified as some of the best au gratin potatoes I've eaten, like ever. And that, frankly, surprised the hell out of me, because I expected those potatoes -- and the trio of soups that I swallowed -- to really, really suck, because the restaurant in question, in its former incarnation, was never, ever ballyhooed for its food.
So, what restaurant was it that made me eat my words -- and all my potatoes?
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