Dear Hot Springs,
I love Rocky's Corner. Their pizza is so freaking good.
Chicago style of course. Their chicken wings are freakishly large and tasty, the Italian beef sandwich should be on the Arkansas Walk of Fame, the French onion soup fixes bad days and the super secret house salad dressing is delicious. They should be served that stuff in a shot glasses.
But the food isn't what I love most about Rocky's. I adore the fact Rocky's hasn't changed much since I worked there almost thirty years ago. It's not a hipster craft beer hang out (some of my favorite people in the world are hipsters).
It's Rocky's, with grumpy old dudes at the bar making fun of Gena. It's Rocky's with a crazy sports mural and if you'r three year old wants a bowl of noodles and butter to eat with their hands...that's just fine.
You never know who you'll see at Rocky's. Could be millionaire horse owners with boots that cost more than my car, bookies, hot walkers or construction dudes. When I was waitress there Bill Clinton's mom, Virginia, came in every week with her swarm of ladies. They would eat and drink and laugh before heading off to the track.
Joey and Mike started the place way back. Joey, who was an epic kind of guy is gone, but his spirit is still there, right next to your booth or bar stool. Laughing. And Mike still has a Chicago accent thicker than their pizza crust. The perfect Chicago guys.
Rocky's isn't politically correct, it's not terribly cool or trendy. It's just perfect.
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