Old Country Buffet

Did you ever play SimCity 2000? Specifically the «Flint» scenario, with all the abandoned houses? And you know how you could win it instantaneously if you just canceled taxes, reticulated some splines, and plopped down a big old marina? Boom, no more problems for Flint! Roger and Me what? The people of your city love you so dearly that they have thrown a spontaneous parade in your honor.
Would that that were possible with the real Flint, where life today runs the gamut from the grungily Dickensian (alternating brothels and Coney Dog stands on the Dort Highway) to the operatically tragic (the vast fields where GM plants used to be; long streets full of once-​grand Tudor houses, all falling in on themselves) to the inert and suffocating. Into this last category falls Old Country Buffet.
No one comes to the OCB expecting culinary fireworks. In the three years since I met my buffet-​loving fiancé and became aware that this chain existed, I’ve had just enough experience to know that this chain is the outpost of your tired, your cheap, your huddled grandparents yearning to breathe free while screaming grandchildren run around squirting chocolate syrup on giant plates full of brownies. But this particular location has special, um, flair.
To its credit, it’s located on the outskirts of Flint, where at least nothing is abandoned. It’s clean. Our most recent waitress was chatty and kind, as the overqualified waitstaff in Flint’s black hole of employment opportunity tend to be. But oh geez, the clientele: mostly obese, mostly alone, wordlessly shoveling back mouthful after mouthful of cheesy potatoes while staring off into the middle distance.
As I stared down at the nacho cheese I was about to ladle on top of some pulled chicken, the words «dark night of the soul» came to mind. I wanted out of there.

I’ve never been to an OCB that wasn’t total ass. Food sucks but hey, you can eat all you want. Great deal ‘eh? My dad used to bring us here after church when I was younger because is the quantity over quality type when it comes to grazing. Food sits in your guts like cement and your stomach turns it like a cement mixer too. If you’re not used to this type of SOS food then take some Mylanta with you when you go.

Let me tell you it is a strange feeling to walk into a place and be the only group of people that don’t look like they came out of a post-​apocalyptic film.
Anyways… the food was absolutely abysmal. The service was crap. I was only here because my friend’s father lives in Davison and we stayed the night there to watch the house while he was away. My friend said he came here all the time as a kid and only came for the nostalgia. I think he changed his mind after our last visit.
There isn’t a lot of detail I can go into about the food. Think Big Boy’s breakfast buffet if it had been sitting on a dirty table for six hours and then thrown into buckets and served with a ladle. Big Boy’s breakfast buffet is terrible. You can imagine how bad this is. Or maybe you can’t… actually I hope you can’t.
Never go here. I beg you.