LION ROARS - Lionel Collectors Club of America

As My Old Kentucky Dinner Train rolled smoothly over a high trestle inthe woodlands, the dinner guests on board enjoyed a sumptuous meal.cheerful disposition. Her choreographed movements withthe food trays were aesthetically in sync with the rhythmof the train in motion. I considered her “performance” afringe benefit of the total train experience.We soon observed through the windows a localfeature of the Kentucky landscape — corrugated-metalclad,four or five story windowless barn-like buildings.These are rack houses; warehouses with thousands ofbarrels of Kentucky whiskey inside — each batch quietlyresting for years and gathering character during thecarefully controlled aging process. Along the route, wepassed a Jim Beam distillery — the source of the barreleduplibations-in-waiting. This is the region of the countrywhere the citizens believe water is for bathing andwhiskey is for drinking.Then came the main course. My choice — atemporary deviation from my weight controlprogram — was prime rib. Others in the partyselected chicken or salmon entrees. Everyone intalking range pronounced their meal choice as“excellent.” The hefty slice of prime rib was agenerous portion — one-inch thick. I consideredit a challenging meal and a reminder that southernhospitality takes fully into account guests whocome to dinner hungry. I asked for “medium”treatment, and others offered their variations. Eachserving was “done” exactly right. Clearly, the chefin the onboard kitchen knew what he was doing.As darkness fell, we entered a woodlandforest, and the undercarriage lights of the coacheslluminated our way as we rolled along toward theend of the line — about a 17-mile run, one way.Frieda offered three choices for dessert, andthe bourbon-flavored boulee seemed to me to begeopolitically correct. It was delicious. The coffeewas excellent and served with cream; not thepowdery stuff as mere “whitener.”At the end of the line, the engine performed arun-around maneuver, and we soon headed backto Bardstown. With dinner service completed, thetrain ran at a faster rate of speed on the return legof the trip. The smokers in the group enjoyed theirtrips to the vestibules — to look at the landscapeand savor a nicotine hit.Meals on board a train are always special for me. Inmid-Kentucky, I remembered why. In a reflective moment,I recalled an earlier train trip from Chicago to Spokanewith my Grandma Dorothy in 1952 aboard the GreatNorthern’s “Empire Builder.” Then 11 years old and in6th grade, I ordered Trout Almondine — an adventurouschoice for a kid. The dinnerware was marked with thelogo of the railroad, and the silverware was heavy and“real.” We wrote our order on the meal slip and a Blackwaiter in a crisp white jacket attended to us with dignitythat I could only compare to “being in church.” It waswonderful and memorable. My Old Kentucky DinnerTrain is still making those kinds of memories.21The Lion Roars April, 2001