Worst essay about an awesome steakhouse

It's not like I've come to expect great writing from the San Francisco Chronicle. But this extended Sunday riff on Harris Ranch -- a big meat oasis on I-5 halfway between Frisco and Los Angeles -- smells about as bad as the Coalinga feedlots.

It's also not like I enjoy taking potshots at local writers, but this is just so bad I can't resist. Forget the pseudo-literary crap, Mr. Taylor: At Harris Ranch, it's all about the meat, baby.

And you, fellow traveler -- if you're hitting that north-south California artery, be sure to stop in at Harris Ranch for the finest meal you'll find in those parts. It's a TDA tradition, and one that will leave you feeling fine.