After catching sight of the horrendous article about Cracker Barrel’s nasty nature, I could not help but make a public statement on the atrocity. Blake Darmante’s opinion is atrocious and utterly untrue! As I am a regular of the establishment, his crude descriptions are incredibly biased and must have been restricted to one experience. On the contrary, the biscuits are godly and the hashbrowns are heavenly. Before I continue, I am a bon vivant(a sociable person with cultivated and refined tastes) in all respects of dining, therefore, my credentials are quite incomparable. Even then, I have managed and judged several 5 star restaurants in Paris, Rome, and New York City. So now, I criticize this critique as it should rightly be. 

Of all the restaurants, especially those with the highest ratings, none have yet met Cracker Barrel’s excellence in the southern delicacies category of foodstuffs. On top of that, their old country store and table games provide a family-friendly atmosphere with a shop and diner in the same building. From the dining space to the store, you are able to join in a game of chess to bothering your brother with a plastic, retractable dagger, and feasting down a plate of fried chicken in one whole trip–the epitome of the south’s food culture.

Compared to this fool of a critic, everyone’s first visit to Cracker Barrel is sunshine, lollipops, and rainbows; walking into the door and gazing at the epic inside is the pinnacle/climax of your life. Above all, the traffic light that switches colors above the restroom has never been incorporated in any restaurant except theirs. 

So, since I explained my fondness of Cracker Barrel, I must admit a god-awful truth… once I figured out this critic was looking gloomily on the food, treating the servers horribly, and overall treating the glory of Crack Barrel with disdain, well, I took a personal trip to ensure the glorified establishment still held up to expectations. Considering this man wrote of his particular distaste, this trip will give me a clear idea whether or not such meals are so wretched.

My scheme was travel to the Staunton, VA building and order the exact same meals he had requested to disapprove this incompetent “culinary aficionado’s” subjectivity; I stepped up to the plate fashionably to ruin this man’s reputation. 

First of all, we were instructed to sit down diligently rather than being delayed. The tables were not decorated in the finest of syrup and biscuit crumbles but with clean wooden slab, an old-timey lamp, and a peg game. Servers returned immediately, and in their hands were pitches of piping-hot strong coffee, strongest known to man. The first impressions were already brilliantly shocking. 

Soon enough, the notorious Bacon N’ Egg Hash Brown Casserole was in line! As advertised, the chefs used the purest cheeses from a fromagerie, the crispiest pieces of bacon that were scorched in a beautiful silver oven, and hash browns constructed from local mills. Despite Blake’s experience, eggs benedict was even a possibility for ordering.  

The so-called expertise-in-culinary-arts is a complete internet-troll who scrolls on reddit all day making essays full of complaints about his life who desperately needed a reality check. My wonderful trip went exceedingly well and contradicted his very grievances. Good riddance.