_ fresh from our abstemious brewer's festivl (a disaster), we drove eight long hours to omaha. we arrived with an appetite, and googled best steak omaha, and called up the drover. we were fifteen minutes away, and the kitchen was closing in 10, but spike told us to rush (safely) and he'd make sure there was something for us. we arrived just in time, two grizzled travelers from the foothills of the rocky mountains...
_ we sat ourselves down at the bar and ordered quickly. denny was at his usual spot in the corner, just checking in on this sunday night. he ordered a cabernet and a cup of coffee, a weird choice, but he said one was for his body, the other for his mind. we didn't ask which was which. he's a glass manufacturer, and has been coming to the drover a few times a week for 30 years, almost since it opened.
_ from the salad bar.
_ their trademark whiskey bone-in rib-eye served pittsburgh rare.
_ boulevard wheat.
_ so late in the night, after the kitchen had been long closed, there were still remnants of the earlier parties.
_ a flashback to denton, texas... that's team roping right there.
_ the classic gesture popularized, of course, by our friend brad in legends of the fall. sadly, no julia ormond in sight.
_ the city was busy, loads of visitors for the ongoing college baseball world's series.
_ here's spike, our benefactor.
_ the restaurant's namesake.