Do you have one of those places in your life, some location, that you’ve passed by a million times in the course of your days and always thought, “Man, I should really check that out.”, but you never do? Years go by and it remains a mystery as you continue to think that one day you’ll stop by. You grow old. Your flesh sags. Your bones wither. Your organs fail. The face that looks back at you from the mirror is a stranger. As you’re lying in your death bed, the only things keeping you on this mortal place being the machines with tubes running into your body making it work, the fog of your addled brain clears just long enough for you to think, “Man, I should have really checked that place out...”, and then you die. Your family buries you in the ground and leaving the cemetery they pass that place and think, “You know, I should really check that place out.” The cycle continues.

Finius T Flubberbusters was my “that place”. Every summer I drove by the restaurant with the ridiculous name while on vacation and every summer I kept meaning to stop in and check them out, so this year I finally did. I mean seriously, with a name like that how could you not? Who is this fellow? I imagine some sort of former confederate general or mountain man who settled down on the NY/VT border and opened a restaurant back in the 1860’s, but this is all speculation.

From the outside the place looks more like a Fuddruckers (The only place with a name equally as ridiculous as FTF) the inside was pure Roadhouse. While it did lack a sign hanging over the urinal that said “Don’t eat the big white mint”, it made up for it with the addition of their own breathalyzer. It seemed like the perfect place to order some “High Noon” nachos, and looking at the menu only reinforced this notion.

I should have just gone with the Deep Fried Cornbread...

While someone obviously needed to go back and learn about forming possessives, I won’t hold that against the food itself, providing it came with an order of jalapenos and not jalapeno’s. It did thankfully, but other than that, I have no idea what happened. I mean seriously, what happened?

Sure, there were cheese, chili, and jalapenos, but no scallions or salsa, unless their salsa is made with lettuce, tomatoes, and olives, which is unlikely. Now, all these ingredients are perfectly edible and belong on nachos, despite whatever your opinion of lettuce on nachos may be, but it’s definitely the most egregious case of false advertising I’ve encountered between the menu description and what showed up at the table. And what’s worse, they weren’t even that great. Not bad per say, just perfectly meh, which is not how you want a meal at a restaurant you’ve been waiting years to go to taste. It was quite a disappointment.

There’s the saying about how you should never meet your heroes, and if your hero is a restaurant and your meeting is eating at, perhaps they are correct, because there is little chance of it living up to your expectations. Realistically, most likely no chance. Truthfully the best part of the experience was our excellent waitress, who was amazing and looked like Ramona Flowers. If you go there, make sure you get her.