The All Double No Trouble and Restaurant Hopping Bonuses have stirred us to go out to RN restos (AAdvantage Dining) more. And we have even tried some new places no JDiver has gone before. When this happens sometimes we are surprised - sometimes pleasantly, sometimes gah! is all I can say. What about you?

Here's my story (and I am sticking to it): Once upon a time there was a well-known neighborhood restaurant in midtown Sacramento (CA) called the Cornerstone. You could count on "American comfort" type of food, friendliness and some denizens. The ownership was about to lapse, but ultimately, new owners took possession and opened two more branches (Elk Grove and Citrus Heights, CA).

We decided to find and dine at the Citrus Heights Cornerstone restaurant today, as we were in the area on some errands, and feel we truly earned our miles ($25.25, with taxes and tip.) Basically, thirty miles per dollar spent (Tuesday, so 125+125 + 500 for a new place.

The restaurant looked like it was recycled, perhaps from a small auto parts store in a previous life. The white cinder blocks were accented with a couple of small, hand-scrawled signs advertising Tuesday and Senior specials. Entering the door revealed a sign (also hand scrawled, but on paper and not cardboard,) telling us to please not sit at a dirty table. So, we sat at a "clean" and well-used one. Plastic coated menus revealed lots of breakfast items, which is served until 2 PM, and a specials menu - a breakfast of the day. Mains were mostly sandwiches, and one seafood platter, some salads, mostly in the $5 - $7 range. Utensils were plain, battered metalware that looked like it was hand-beaten by child labor in Bangladesh, perhaps within the last thirty years or so.

The ambiance was... hard to describe, but if they used it to establish atmosphere in a movie, it would be a movie about a small town serial killer who couldn't afford to eat out much. The tables and booths had seen better times, several decades ago by appearance. The carpet was ready for an oil change, or perhaps just for incineration - it could easily provide food to a large herd of roaches for years, and bits of food and debris stood out against the sheen of ground in grunge and oil. The kitchen is open, and lots of hissing told us they were cooking.

Eventually, a frowning server asked if we wanted something to drink. We settled on lemonade, as they do not have an alcohol license and do not offer wine, beer, etc. Large glasses with ice and a somewhat fluorescent pink liquid arrived, with large glasses of water (the best part of the meal.)

When our server showed up, we ordered a French Dip sandwich (with potato salad) and a seafood platter, with "butterfly" shrimp and "cod". The plates arrived, and we tried it all out.

The beef slices in the cheap roll were cardboard thin, greyish brown with a sheen with purple, pink and green highlights, sprinkled through with bits of veins, connective tissue and fat. This delight was accompanied by a bowl with thin, brown liquid to dip the sandwich in, and a glob of potato salad that had until recently been at its repose in a large institutional tub; in spite of the absolute absence of flavor and consistency, there were bits of potato, celery and ? in it.

The seafood platter merits mention on its own. Three "butterflied prawns" looked like road kill shrimp, if such is possible, with a gloppy brown crust; the curve of the shrimp had the same batter, but on the inside it was barely cooked. The alleged cod was battered as well - in fact, we should have called the police with this thorough and criminal battering, though the cod was white fleshed and properly cooked. The French fries (chips) were flavorless, but not greasy, their one saving grace. The best parts of this dish were the two tomato slices and four cucumber slices on the side.

As we contemplated our fate, our server dared us, er, asked us if we wished anything else, then slapped down the hand-written bill form on our table and walked away. I walked up to the counter and filled out the credit chit for a total of $25.25, including tax and tip, because we will never be here again and I decided 750 miles was, after all, 750 miles and the food - well, we ate a portion of our meal and departed this true ptomaine palace of the West, knowing we grossly overpaid and that we would enjoy making recommendations about this place to others (not to mention, we will avoid visits to the other two branches and its affiliated restaurant, Nishiki Sushi, preemptively and in the interests of good health).

We got home and I remembered the Romans often purged after their meals; I now have more understanding of this quaint custom.

Rating: and

OK, your turn!