Fat Pat's Afterhours

Late night working means late night eating, usually no earlier than 8:30pm during the week.  This past Monday, after Men's Knit Club, Blaine and I decided to visit one of our less frequented food joints, Fat Pat's.  It's on the less frequented list simply because we don't always think of it, and getting there from my shop requires a left turn onto Verot School Road.  Fat Pat's is a "bar and grill", a sports themed place with spartan wooden seating and exposed duct work.  Laid back for sure.  By the time we generally arrive, the big testosterone sporties have mostly all cleared out and we get the pick of the booths.  Win win.  If you're at Fat Pat's, you want to eat the burger.  Two choices: the Fat Pat and the Little Boy.  Which one you select depends on whether you're eating just for the moment or planning ahead to take home half of your meal for the next day.  The Little Boy is a "standard" sized burger, the Fat Pat is an enormous ground meat tour de force, the consumption of which in one sitting is nothing short of mortal sin.  We get the Little Boy.  That way we leave sated and happy with our angelic halos still in tact. Of the five or so times we've visited there, Monday night's basket of goodness was the best.  It's always good, but this particular meal was stellar.  And even with a bit of lagniappe: a great attentive server.  You see, I am a mayonaise/fries junkie, and Blaine mixes mayo with ketchup for dipping.  Without fail, our perfect mixture of oil and eggs is always forgotten by servers.  Always.  This time, we got what we needed when we needed it.  More time eating, less time flagging down a server hot to get home to let the dog out.  My recommendation: go late, stay long, leave happy.