When I am laying on my death-bed a few years from now, the spectral image of the Grim Reaper floating over me as the diabolic fugue of my death rattle begins to play, there are many things that I am going to tearfully have many regrets about. But failing to eat three large chicken fried steaks in an hour probably isn’t going to be one of them.
Ever since I started covering the chicken fried steak scene in Oklahoma, everyone in every comment section, direct message, personal email and brick through my window has told me that I absolutely need to go to Kendall’s Restaurant in Noble, Oklahoma, as it is apparently the end-all, be-all for the Oklahoma delicacy, that I won’t be able to even look at another chicken fried steak by the time I was ready to call for the check.