Cruising down historic Route 66, it’s somewhat heartwrenching to see the last architectural remnants of Oklahoma’s rollicking past slowly fade away into a distant memory, with every new year demolishing yet another long-standing relic, leaving behind nothing more than an empty lot and even emptier nostalgia.
When night falls along the much-mythologized strip of road, however, an electric buzzing can be heard from miles around as a hot pink atomic glow radiates vulgarously like a beacon to the hungry, a neon demon rising from the darkness to illuminate the night with an oil-heavy devotion to a deadly sin barely seen this side of Bangkok.
Located at 4106 NW 39th St, the defiantly garish Ann’s Chicken Fry House stoically stands its ground, both in time and place. With a double-barreled non-corporate rock and roll swagger and a non-ironic sense of well-earned kitsch, this Oklahoma City dining landmark has clogged the arteries of famished Okies for decades and, if the wait for a seat last Saturday night is any indicator, a few more decades to come.
Apropos to the their name, Ann’s has earned its reputation for their absolute mastery of the chicken fried steak game, a studiously monastic approach to an absolutely balls-to-the-wall Oklahoma staple that continues to be a fully bared and pleasantly plump middle finger to the Whole Foods crowd, all presented in a Pepto-pink package of KISS memorabilia and Eddie Van Halen guitars to silently covet while impatiently pining away for a caustically hued table.