Log Cabin — Restaurant in Wyoming

Initially, these onion rings were a complexity to judge the appearance of. This was not due to some mysterious quality of the rings, not yet seen in my extensive travels, but simply that the bar was remarkably dim. Thankfully, Lois and Anna provided sufficient illumination, through a copious dose of cell-phone flashlights, that I could get a proper read of the situation.

These onion rings are, in short, relatively inoffensive. They have a reasonably consistent golden brown color, and a fairly consistent covering of the bread. Perhaps, with the cave-like atmospheric lighting of the bar, the Log Cabin was hoping to hide some of the malformed rings from a discerning view; the broken half rings, the double rings fused together, and so on. As always, this attempt a subterfuge failed.

Presentation wise, it's about as bare bones and classic as it gets. A large heap of onion rings exploding beyond the narrow confines of a classic red-and-white checkered cardboard box, a deliberate plating attempt to make the onion rings seem greater in quantity than they truly are.

Much like the increased power of other senses when one is lacking, like a blind woman with marginally improved hearing, the blackened interior of the Log Cabin may have been a clever attempt to force diners to assign a greater value to taste to what would otherwise be insufficient flavor.

To an extent, it worked. The batter, with a light and fitting coating of the quintessential onion ring grease, was reasonably well-seasoned, though probably with no more than salt and pepper. While the breading, like Icarus, tried to touch the sun, the catastrophic failure to deliver an onion taste was the collapse of his contrived wings, and what caused the taste of these onion rings to hurtle down to oblivion.

In short, there was basically no onion taste. One could be forgiven for assuming that these were little more than moderately well-seasoned circles of breading wrapped around a pale faux-facsimile of an onion, perhaps made of cardboard or wood pulp. The onions were cut far too thin, and the rings themselves fried for far too-long, for any onion taste to survive the cooking process. Additionally, when I ordered, I was promised a tantalizingly mysterious "bistro sauce" to accompany the rings, which was noticeably absent from my final order.

The Log Cabin is little more than a den of deception, preying on the frailty of human sensation and memory to spin a devious web of lies and insufficient taste in onion rings.

The web of deception continues with texture. On one's first bite, one could think that these onion rings are sufficient, even bordering on good. A solid crunch permeates the batter, and there's nary an instance of the dreaded slippage.

Unfortunately, these positive attributes are solely the result of failure. These onion rings were dreadfully overdone, leading to the thick and crunchy texture, and the lack of any slippage. What little shreds of onion there initially were in these onion rings, thin-cut and meager though they were, were destroyed by the frying, with all the sweet juices (and taste) removed before they were plated.

The onion texture wasn't "bad," per se. It was more "completely absent and hardly worth mentioning" than anything else. Even the name of the dish, an "onion" ring, is deceit.

When all is said and done, $3.75 yielded a medium sized mound of overdone onion rings, lacking in onion taste, but with a few dashes of flavor mixed into the batter. I'd be shocked if these were anything but frozen, and while the quantity was reasonably good for the price-tag, the quality left much to be desired.

With regards to onion rings, the Log Cabin is little more than a den of deception, preying on the frailty of human sensation and memory to spin a devious web of lies and insufficient taste in...

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