Denny's.

Few years ago we backpacked NE Yosemite/SE Emigrant, leaving from Cherry Lake. Beginning on day three or four, it became smoky, then really smoky, then ash began sifting down from the heavens during the next day or so. Lacking any good information we decided to bug out a day early. When we got to the highway, night was falling and we were directed by fire crews to leave the highway and take FS roads, through which we wound for hours before reconnecting to the highway, farther down the hill.

By then, all the little towns were closed down and we made it to the valley without finding anything to eat. Being midnight or so, Denny's, it was.

I should have known to order breakfast--the sole thing they're halfway competent at--but that was so far off my food-fantasy radar I simply couldn't, instead ordering a "steak." Beer? Nope.

I'd have been better off roasting my shoe over the campstove, or, we had that day's food left in our packs. But I swear, I will take that meal's disappointment to my grave.

"Here are your calories. Eat them."