A fine brunch at Bertha Miranda's in Reno.

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Bertha Miranda's MexicanRestaurant is quite the oasis once through its doors withlight streaming in through the sunroof, potted plants all about,and comfy leather-upholstered wicker seats to settle back in.

The table salsa is very loose but quite zesty if you care to sipa mouthful. Save some to spoon over a side of rice.

For starters I sampled the Sausage and Bean Dip, adelicious, substantial chip topper. With salsa verde,sautéed onion and melted cheese it's the real deal! Offeredeither hot or mild, I chose hot. Zesty, savory! A meal in its ownright.

For main course I enjoyed a plate of Enchiladas Montadas– stacked cheese enchiladas with your choice of sauces, red orgreen, and style of egg served atop, scrambled or over easy – withsides of fluffy rice and creamy refried beans. The red sauce israther akin to a Tex-Mex chili gravy; thick, rich, comforting. Thecheese within is abundant and well melted. Overall a fine brunch.

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The Little Nugget Diner caps any evening of excess in Reno.

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After an evening spent in Renoquaffing intoxicants and caffeine I sought out late night eats atthe LittleNugget Diner in the rear of The Nugget, adivey casino on Virginia St. in the shadow of the Reno Arch.

The place is about as old school as it gets short of offeringcoin-pay slots. Unlike the majority of downtowncasinos paired with hotels, The Nugget is a standalone casino, butwith the added bonus of a diner, far in theback. So far you can avoid passing through the casino and enterthe diner from the alley; an approach popular enough to warrantsignage.

The diner is about as well-worn as a greasy spooncan get. I settled in on a stool next to the cashier with a viewof the grill and fryers. The Awful-Awful burger,short for “Awful Big and Awful Good” is what brought me to theLittle Nugget that evening, but a quick perusal of the menu hintedthe diner's true forté: breakfast.

From left: The Back Door, The Grill, TheNight Shift in Repose.

The sandwich is fairly decent, and better than what's offered atmost fast-food chains. Built on a soft, lightly grill-toastedonion roll, the standard Awful-Awful offers slicesof American cheese, tomato, red onion, pickle, and an exorbitantamount of lettuce slathered with a special sauce thatreminded me of ThousandIsland dressing sans pickle. The burger itself –likely a third-pounder, pre-cooked weight – is quality beef (formass-production meat) and pepper seasoned. Wanting more I ask forbacon which comes as crispy and curly as if you'd fried it athome. In short, the Awful-Awful is a deliciousburger worth revisiting.

What makes this truly awful-awful is the staggering poundof shoestring-cut french fries the sandwich rests atop. It's anawe-inspiring image, not unlike the famous Botticellipainting of Venus standing upon a giant clam shell, but certainlymore tasty than a 500-year-old piece of canvas smeared withtempura paint.

The fries are actually quite good, uniquely seasoned with a blendthat betrays the presence of a green herb. Ranchdressing is a popular dipping condiment here. It's just thatthere's SO MUCH of them I barely made a dent. Momentarily saddenedto leave such bounty behind, I bade my goodbyes to the night crew,not realizing my next visit would be sooner than I expected.

The excesses of the evening – alcohol, caffeine, animal flesh,grease and second-hand smoke – led to a night populated withwhacked-out dreams. I had resolved to skip breakfast and snag acarryout pizza for the train trip across Nevada that afternoon.Restlessness and unexpected hunger had other plans. And so Ireturned to the Little Nugget Diner for an omelet, but not justany omelet.

The four-egg Hangover Omelet sports a pile ofchili, cheese and salsa, inside and atop. The chili, usually anafterthought with such builds is tasty on its own; the advertisedmelted cheese wasn't so melted as it was abundant; salsa was astraight-forward chunky tomato variety. Paired with the omelet isa plank of slightly golden hash browns – tasting of margarine butnot unpleasant, choice of toast, and a horseradish-tinged BloodyMary!

It's not haute cuisine or even the least bit exotic or unique.What the Little Nugget Diner excels at is familiar comfort food inexcessive proportions to soothe the alcohol-ravaged body, and toreassure the down-on-their-luck that all is not lost.

Well… maybe it is. Eat an Awful-Awful and nursethat pound of fries for every ounce of ranch dressing you can beg,borrow or steal. Clorox– famous for manufacturing bleach – operates a large HiddenValley Ranch factory in the Reno area, so you know itsspringtime fresh.

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Sowing my oats in Reno.

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My second morning in Reno wasspent moseying up Virginia St. then down south of the river takingpictures and sipping coffee. After a brief rest at the the hotel,I ventured back south of the river again for brunch at Bertha Miranda'sMexican Restaurant [seeblog post].

With half of my appetizer in hand I revisited Yvonne at work toshare the wealth, then we peruse nearby Twin City Surplus.Afterward I visited the Amtrak stationwhere I was able to get a sleeper upgrade for my segment to SaltLake city for a mere $21.10, about a fifth of what's normallycharged online. Giddy, I danced a jig right on the spot!

That night I sought out familiar places from my last visit toReno in 2007, starting off with cocktails at The Patio, a friendlygay/lesbian bar where this stranger was once again greeted withsmiles and left with well-wishes for my return trip home. My lonecomplaint was the cigarette smoke, a common feature in Nevadabars. I knocked down a well-poured gin & tonic, but intrigueswitched me over to Three Olives Supercolavodka on the rocks. Surprisingly good cola flavor!

My next stop was the 5Star Saloon, another gay haunt, where I enjoyed a pricey butstiff tall rum & coke. Needing a pep-me-up I popped intonearby Java Junglefor an iced Americano, pleased to see the same barista working thecounter as the day before [seeblog post]. Catching a good look at the pizza servedhere I thought I'd found where to eat that night, until thebarista explained there was a 45 minute backlog on orders. I wascrestfallen, as well as pert near deaf from the DJ's grooves.

I quaffed my last beverage – a bracing Sierra Nevada TorpedoExtra IPA – at the SierraTap House just down the hallway and a flight of stairs fromJava Jungle.  A delightful, mocha-toned beauty with a liltingvoice gave me pause to swoon, but the dude next to me with B.O.kept my focus grounded to finishing my pint and leaving.

Desirous of pizza I moseyed east to Slice of the Peak to findthey had closed an hour earlier. Not keen on Pizza Reno nor the walk toJ.J.'s Pie Co. I settled for aburger downtown, but not just any burger. I sought out the Awful-Awfulat the Little Nugget Diner in the rear of The Nugget casino onVirginia St., in the shadow of the Reno Arch [seeblog post].

The excesses of the evening – alcohol, caffeine, animal flesh,grease and second-hand smoke – led to a night populated withwhacked-out dreams.

On my final morning in Reno I had resolved to skip breakfast andsnag a carryout pizza for the train trip across Nevada thatafternoon. Restlessness and unexpected hunger had other plans. Andso I returned to the Little Nugget Diner for breakfast.

I killed some time idly riding around west Reno with Yvonne andOkie. It wasn't so much of the quality time I had desired before Iparted ways, but it was what it was.

Later at the Amtrak station I absentmindedly set my sunglassesdown at a water fountain, remembered them five minutes later andfound they had disappeared. After some stewing I walked back to myhotel next door for a sixteen dollar pair of shades from the giftshop.

Aboard the sleeper I found many roomettes and deluxe sleepers empty. Even the family sleeper behind me was unoccupied for theduration. However I had a pair of Alabama-bound neighbors acrossthe aisle fretting over their connection in Chicago so I pretty muchkept my door shut the whole trip back.

“Highball Reno.” On-time departure.

That night I had regrets about the time I didn't spend withYvonne and Okie, mostly of my design. I stretched my legs a bit atour brief stop in Elko before retiring for the night.

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A hearty appetite is a prerequisite for breakfast at Omaha's 11-Worth Cafe.

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After a long train ride across Nebraska – punctuated with disturbing dreams – Idisembarked in Omaha for a chilly, half-hour walk in the earlymorning darkness with a destination in mind… the 11-Worth Cafe.

The huge four-egg 11-Worth Omelet is chocked fullof ham, bacon, and breakfast sausage with enough melted Americancheese to bind the meaty ingredients together. A further slice ofcheese with a sprinkle of the meat mélange rests atop, anappealing sign of what lies inside.

Along with the sizable omelet, the dish also comes with sideshash browns, country gravy with sausage, and choice of toast orbaked good. The plentiful plank of hash browns is about par forbrownness. The country gravy is peppery, with bits of sausagethroughout. Dashes of Trappey'sRed Devil sauce makes the perfect condiment for all theomelet's richness. Big English muffins from Omaha's own Rotella's Italian Bakeryare a nice surprise and rather good.

With frequent refills of coffee and a pleasant, attentive server,all I needed was a second stomach for the interestingly-namedRobert E. Lee, with sausage patties, biscuits and more of the11-Worth's delicious gravy. I had to content myself with anothervisit, hopefully soon.

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Sunny skies rush to greet me on the long way home.

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Waking up in Salt LakeCity during the wee hours, I felt the train lurch. Curious Islipped outside to find that a private passenger car had beenadded to the back of the consist. With little time to take acloser look before the all-aboard signal I returned to my sleeperfor a few more hours rest.

At breakfast while passing through Helper Inoticed that the corned beef hash enjoyed by a fellow diner wasquite an improvement from the disappointing goo I had eaten on thetrip out. Traveling through familiar scenes I filled the timetaking pictures of the passing landscape [see blog posts, EasternUtah, Utah/Colorado,and GrandJunction to Glenwood Springs].

A break in GrandJunction afforded me time to view the addition to our train,the Caritas, an art-deco private railway car built in1948. Another stop later at GlenwoodSprings offered another glimpse.

It was standing room only in the sightseeing car as we passedthrough GlenwoodCanyon while waiting for the call to lunch. For my meal Itried the meatloaf with mushroom gravy, potatoes, and a splash ofTabascofor some zest. Dessert was a sizable chocolate and peanut buttertorte. Decadent and sweet, the torte needed a cup of coffee forbalance.

Glenwood Springs to Glenwood Canyon.

Meatloaf with mushroom gravy, potatoes,and a splash of Tabasco. A chocolate and peanut butter tortefor dessert.

Trackside in Fraser, Colorado.

Coming down from Moffat TunnelI went to the last sleeper car in our consist to take pictures ofthe tunnels we passed through [seeblog post]. After a final opportunity for freshair and a leg stretch in Denver, the trainmoved out for the night ride through northeast Colorado andsouthern Nebraska. Disinterest in my tablemates for dinnercompelled me to seek sustenance in the lounge car. I settled forsome overpriced vegan burgers, but no amount of condiments madethem palatable.

Coming down the Front Range.

At the station platform in Denver; sunsetin the nearby rail yard.

In the darkness of Nebraska I woke up from a seriously messed-updream, even by my standards. Featuring action movie backgroundmusic, blood smeared indigents, transsexual prostitutes, andChinese aerobatic girls wielding throwingstars, both lethal and magic healing ones. And all because Iintervened in a lop-sided street fight. My last memory was ofstumbling down the street, blowing off the crimson goo covering myface and lips, thinking what number of blood-borne viruses I mayhave picked up.

Pulled into Omaha on time and well before sunrise. The long walkto breakfast was quite chilly; the coolest weather of the entiretrip. A half-hour later I'm greeted with the familiar sight of the11-Worth Cafe, appropriately located on Leavenworth off 24th [seeblog post].

Omaha in the wee hours.

After breakfast it was a little under a mile's walk to the busstop, where I caught an indirect Metrobus that afforded me a glimpse of NorthOmaha, a side of town I rarely visit. With time to kill atthe Megabusstop, the nearby Targetoffered a clean toilet to take a whiz, and a handy Starbuckswithin to load up on unsweetened passion tea.

The ride back to Des Moines was calm, quiet and uneventful, aswas the walk home down Walnut St. Settled in my recliner aftereleven days of travel, a nap was in order.

Princess Leia rides the Megabus to herfinal destination, but all the while plots her next move!

Photos from the Picasa Web Album: Labor Day Trip 2012