For such a small place, Mr. Tim’s has a very long name — but then nobody would ever accuse the eponymous owner of being a minimalist. You have only to look at the suspiciously large side plate that arrives almost the moment you sit down in this just-grown, handmade haven. Before long, the reason for its size will be abundantly apparent: what quickly arrived was two groaningly giant biscuits. “Do you want honey with that?” queried my waitress. The only rational response is yes, please.
Gotta say I didn’t just love the biscuits, being of the flaky school. But slathered with butter and drizzled with honey, they were nevertheless the perfect warmup to the lunch special: grandma’s meatloaf. I think I might like to have known this grandma, as her meatloaf was decidedly not old-school. The topping, for starters, employed canned pineapple, along with a tomato sauce that could just as easily have been ketchup. I should now clarify that though I applaud grandma for creativity, I’m not that fond of canned pineapple, and I liked the meatloaf’s pasty texture even less. But, looking on the bright side, the flavor was good, the quantity generous, and the sides equally bountiful.
Stop second-guessing me: I really did like the fried okra. The cornmeal coating was light, the okra bright green, and there was nary a speck of grease. As for the carrots, I should have given in to the mashed potatoes and brown gravy I saw many other diners having. Though I think the carrots had seen a little butter, they needed more. (No, not pineapple.) Pork chops, liver, chicken-fried steak … these are some of the other, unsurprising offerings that characterize the place and the menu. The henge of forks in the parking lot is unexpected, however. Stone Oak take note: you’re far more conservative than King William.
Mr. Tim’s Country Kitchen Café
1032 S. St. Mary’s