I’ve always enjoyed my visits to Cracker Barrel. For several years, my wife and I would meet up with friends, Mike Jones and Ron Claspill, at a restaurant in Kingman, Arizona.
Mike and Ron were also from Lake Havasu City, although Ron eventually relocated to Las Vegas. He’d still make the 100-mile round trip after moving to reconnect with us Havasuians.
We’d talk about nothing in particular, generally laughing about things that only we would find funny. Each of us had our own specific item of choice from the vast menu.
Mike loved his blueberry pancakes. Ron would generally get the Old Timers Breakfast. Joleen opted for French toast and eggs each trip, while I always had Uncle Herschel’s Favorite.
Uncle Herschel’s Favorite came with a variety of choices. I chose scrambled eggs, grits, sugar-cured ham, hashbrown casserole, and biscuits with gravy. They often brought me more biscuits, which I tossed into my take-home box before leaving.
It didn’t matter if we were there for breakfast, lunch, or dinner; I had to have the same fare, never finding it to my dislike.
On almost every trip made, our server would be candidly reminded by Ron that I was related to Uncle Herschel. Uncle Herschel on the menu was actually a real uncle to Cracker Barrel founder, Dan Evins.
My Uncle Herschel, on the other hand, was one of Mom’s sister’s husbands. Of course, Ron would never tell our server the full story. Some newbie employees took things hook, line, and sinker, while veteran workers chuckled, knowing that my friend was pulling their leg.
Uncle Herschel and Aunt Katrulia lived in Mobile, Alabama, and as a kid, I loved visiting them. Unlike the restaurant Uncle Herschel, my Uncle Herschel Benton Wheeler traveled all across the US driving a tractor-trailer rig.
Whenever we visited, he’d sometimes take me for a short ride. After the short excursion ended, Uncle Herschel allowed my left arm to reach up and pull the air horn rope. I still remember this like it was yesterday.
Uncle Herschel’s job with Cracker Barrel was much different than my uncle’s, although similar in one respect where driving is concerned.
Each man traveled great distances. Uncle Herschel, of Cracker Barrel fame, journeyed to various towns where Cracker Barrel restaurants were located and invited people living there to dine at these establishments. The man was an ambassador of goodwill for the restaurant chain.
Both Uncle Herschel’s are alike for one important reason. They lived by the golden rule, “Treat everybody as you’d like to be treated yourself.”
Sadly, Mike Jones passed away—and then Covid reared its ugly head. Ron, Joleen, and I always talked about meeting up someday after things returned to normal, but that’s never happened. At least it hasn’t yet.
If and when we do, things have changed significantly on that Cracker Barrel menu, at least for me, it has. Uncle Herschel’s Favorite breakfast is no longer offered.
Joleen and I were in the Kingman restaurant for the first time in five years yesterday, and the young server we had, Devon, had never heard of it, nor even knew who Uncle Herschel was. Ron’s joke would’ve flown directly over his head.
It seems downright sacrilegious to me that the chain no longer mentions Uncle Herschel with any one food item. I’m sure the man loved other things besides breakfast. On the other hand—breakfast is what he’s best known for.
Something tells me that both Uncle Herschel’s along with Mike Jones have now met. I’m sure they’ve shared some good stories over coffee and breakfast.
Cracker Barrels down here may not offer Uncle Herschel’s Favorite breakfast, but without doubt, regardless of corporate decision, the restaurant in Heaven never took it off their menu!
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