I'm not a huge chili fan, but I just ate the best chili I've ever tasted. Also, I'm not like some sort of insane food elitist or foodie (most horrid designation ever). I just like what I like. And I admit that in a lot of ways, my tastes are probably rather pedestrian.
Where did I get this magic chili? you must be thinking. At a little place called Flatrock cafe. It opened in November on Nolensville pike, across the street, essentially, from La Hacienda and Phonoluxe. So, apologies if you are one of my unfortunate readers living in England or China. I have tons of fans in other countries. Ha. But know this, should you ever make it to Nashville, my distant friends, you will know WHERE to eat.
They also serve coffee made from locally roasted beans, if that's your thing.
Get this: the chili was made on the premises. I know. I know. Your heart just skipped a beat too, didn't it? We're so in sync, you and I.
It's a lowdown shame that these days a person feels cause to rejoice to learn that their food wasn't made in a factory in Dallas, flash-frozen, and shipped in blocks of ice to the chain store where it's reheated and served as "fresh."
And yet, it's a sweet discovery to find a place like Flatrock where the entire menu consists of things made on location.
I'm not talking about the raw ingredients, of course. Though, according to their menu, the milk comes from a nearby dairy and the beer (if that's your thing) is brewed locally. Something called Yazoo. Yeah, I don't drink. So sue me.
They should put up a flashing neon sign touting this: "Food Made Here. No, not just HERE, here; WE MAKE YOUR FOOD FRESH. Really fresh. Not flash-frozen fresh, although that's the best way to preserve the food, if you need to preserve food."
Too long. They would probably benefit from an asterisk after the first here. But that looks fishy. So I guess we're back to the word premise, which I've already used too much in this post.
Anyway. Flatrock cafe. They also have live music on Saturday night if that's your thing, and they have a really great parking lot. Is it weird that I notice that? There's an abundance of places in Nashville that have terrible parking--that's why I notice it.
One of the things that really endeared the place to me is the Flatrock history lesson on the back of the menu. I read it. I'm a sucker for stuff like that. It's like they read my mind. Because I really WAS wondering where they came up with the seemingly non-applicable name.
When I think of flatrock, southern Utah and northern Arizona come to mind. Yeah, there are OTHER places with rocks, you're thinking, some of them are even FLAT. I know, I know. But I'm subject to my past.
Well, I guess I'm ruined for chili from here on out. No point in EVER getting another bowl of chili. It will pale in comparison. That's the problem with amazing experiences, their sneaky double-edge. Sigh.
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