If you ever happen to find yourself in Sheryl Crow's hometown, eat at the town's best restaurant — McDonald's. Seriously. On our way to Memphis last weekend, Schreiber and I made the mistake of believing a review on Poynt and went to the Cotton Patch buffet as we passed through Kennett, Missouri. The Cotton Patch used to be an Asian buffet, but was taken over by a southern-American family of mediocre cooks and their half-wit children. As you can see from the picture, the place hasn't changed much since the previous owners were there, well, except for the sticky layer of grime that seemed to coat every surface in the place. To be fair, some of what they served was pretty good, the meatloaf, catfish and fried chicken in particular. Then again, the fried okra was rock hard and the mac & cheese was so watery it may as well have been served in a soup bowl. The food aside, the trip might have been downright forgettable if it weren't for their dimwitted children. First, we were graced with a great conversation with the son. Dimwit son: My neighbors brew their own beer. They make their own moonshine too. Us: Oh, that's neat. Dimwit son: You know ...