The MotherLoaded Tavern
103 S Main Street
I come here every time I visit Breckenridge, except for one sad day during mud-season when they were closed for a month or something else eternally long. But today they are open, and thus I am here.
The silverware is clustered on the table in a Family Size can of Campbell’s Tomato Soup.
The salt and pepper are in old-timey Coke bottles.
My water pitcher is a square green bottle, no label. Just pouring myself a glass of water, I felt like Miss Hannigan pouring vodka in her knickers.
The restaurant raises her glass in honor of mothers and grandmothers everywhere, those who have fixed us our favorite meals that have never tasted quite so good since we left home.
The decor boasts framed pictures of random moms with random kids, and quotable words on the wall.
“All Mothers are Working Mothers.”
“If evolution really works, how come mothers only have two hands?”
“A Freudian slip is when you say one thing and mean your mother.”
The menu is just incredible, really.
Naturally, they’ve got homemade mac ‘n cheese, meatloaf, and chicken fried chicken, but they also have fried chicken waffles, deep fried pickles, and The Pregnant Elvis burger (complete with peanut butter, bacon, and pickles). The list goes on.
I’m having a Monte Cristo Panini, grilled and encrusted with Cap’n Crunch dust.
And you bet your sweet bippy I’m saving room for the Fried Twinkie for dessert. Unless I opt for the strawberry cobbler or the make-my-own s’mores over a hibachi at my table.
But really, I think I’ll go with the Twinkie.
Eat here. It’ll change your life.