When I was a wee 16-year-old Harold, I had two dining locations that I went buckhole wild for: Steak N Shake & Dynasty. That doesn’t mean I’d choose either of these for a romantic date (lol, yeah, it does), but if I had a bit of “sit down and dine” money, I’d find my way to one of the two. And this was when I was 16, so somewhere between 4 and 19 years ago (it’s not 4)!
As a youth, it was magical! This was a Pre-Diabetic Diagnosis, so a mountain of fried rice and sugar sauces bricked me up faster than building a new school in Honduras while trying to outrun the SNAKES. I loved it. I tipped well. I dined like a Genghis Khan. And the employees loved me right back. I was a “regular.”
Fast forward to last weekend, as I settled my sunny belly to Dynasty for a date night (we split the check–it’s 2024, ladies) and hoped to be hit with a wave of both nostalgia and delicacy. I had heard the tales of New Management, ingredient changes, and even a nasty rumor about them hating me because I was so stupid and ugly. And guess what?
It tastes the same.
I’ve seen the comments about it not being as good as it used to be, bad experiences, and change of management/flavor, and I think you’re all just afraid to admit YOU’RE THE ONE THAT’S CHANGED, and your tastebuds have revolted against you. It’s precisely the same. Trust me. I’ve eaten it twice in almost twenty years.
The only change I noticed in the entire place was that they replaced the kick-ass soup spoons with a lame layman spoon! And you already know, Harold drinks that soup like it’s a coffee anyway, so it doesn’t matter. Spoons are for tools (or utensils). And they also got rid of the “Zodiac Animal” placemats, which, if I try and convince myself of it, I can see how racist and species-ist that is anyway (don’t ask me to explain myself). If you can’t enjoy eating meat without staring into a drawn version of their eyes, you’re a sicko anyway! Just eat your dragon and be quiet.
Not only was the eating experience precisely the same, but the employees were even more incredible than horn-dog millionaire teenage Harold remembered. There can be translation issues when dining anywhere that isn’t just a cheeseburger shoved inside another cheeseburger served from the bed of someone’s pick-up truck. It can cause a headache. For all involved. I don’t expect anyone to speak “white trash Coweta” fluently, either. My experience with my waitress was flawless. She was so kind that she accidentally put my coffee on my date’s ticket! Wow! Free coffee, basically! Thank you!
Now, I do have a complaint.
As Diabetes Donkey Kong, I would’ve loved to substitute the fried rice with veggies or brown rice. That was not allowed. I could get “steamed” or “fried,” and that’s dumb. You’ve already got the veggies! I’ve seen them! I hear them screaming from the back! So, I settled for three different appetizers and spoonfuls of my date entree. They were all delicious, but I don’t appreciate rice-pushers pressuring me into rice!
But you can’t do better than Dynasty if you are looking for local chicken, rice, and soup slung around in sugar water.
B –
(the letter grade is my personal feelings, the +/- is based on what I think the public, not as important as Harold, would feel)
Newnan Time with Harold 