Week 1: Get Your Gat, We Are Going To Three Coins

As I sit here excited to tell you about my first (and only) adventure to 3 Coins, there is also a feeling of disappointment. I’ve had so many culinary adventures and aside from a few uploads of corned beef hash, I haven’t shared them with anyone. The Meatball Chronicles never reserve seats for the excessively meticulous.  The engagements have included canned meat mountains, dirty tables, fraudulent Elvis booths, 6000+ calorie challenges, breakfast cocktails, sake bombs then falling for the love of my life (and not the other way around),  raw food, cooked food, northern food, southern food, a meatloaf marathon, a few instances of food poisoning, some hand holding in public, and much more. I can only pray that some day I make it to Australia to eat those berries that grow in the digestive systems of emus and can only be found by picking through their crap.

Three Coins Diner, Tampa: Last Sunday was like any other Sunday. We woke up on a mission for calories. In the mood for a hole in the wall, greasy southern breakfast joint, we settled on a Nebraska Ave location… we were on a mission. But Nebraska?!? Should I change my Burberry boots?  Should I rent a gun? This was sure to be amazing. As we walked in, I was instantly bummed. Where’s the big fat Southern Lady? Where are the cackling motel landlords? Why is everyone here a white elderly couple? Thankfully, there wasn’t time to dwell on this because I was starving and knew what I wanted. We immediately ordered country fried steak and gravy, grits, corned beef hash, eggs over easy, a side of sausage links, two coffees, and two waters.

The table next to us had two young guys and their food was served within minutes. What the F?!?! That grimy bastard ordered the same thing I ordered. Should I stand up to use the restroom and accidentally  drop my face into it? I don’t want to wait any longer. Thank goodness my better half has caught my attention with his outrageous Sunday morning thought. “I’d be interested in genetically engineering a child” I must have looked dumbfounded because he immediately got defensive and said “WHAT? We did it with cows all the time.”  I wasn’t dumbfounded, I was lost in my own thoughts again… could i genetically engineer a child to have a fast metabolism so it could join me on my culinary adventures without being obese? Clearly these adventures are no place for children. “If you and I did this, it would definitely need my nose and my boobs.” Really? You are a man, you don’t have boobs. Oh shit neither do I. And what’s this crap about my nose? You don’t like my face? AHHH THE FOOD!!!! A GLORIOUS MOUNTAIN OF CORNED BEEF HASH. I DON’T CARE ABOUT ANYTHING ELSE I WANT THIS HASH NOW.

To be honest, I was so starving that I would have enjoyed anything. But man, this hash… it was freakin’ amazing. Crusted on the outside and everything. The grits were okay but anything is okay with a puddle of butter in it. Sausage- Good. Eggs- An egg’s an egg. Country Fried Steak and Gravy- Well the gravy wasn’t sausage gravy and although it wasn’t my order, i’d say it was average. Major fail on the lack of sausage–they don’t serve it after 11AM. I won’t be back… the hash is worth doing illegal things for, but I’m positive there is more hash to be tasted someplace new.