In the spirit of Tournament Days, we took our appetites to a restaurant that fills you up good after a long day on the bleachers. We could have gone to Miller’s, where the salad bar could feed a small nation for a week. We could have gone to McDonald’s, or the Weathervane, or even the concession stand at the Bangor Auditorium. And we salute all those eateries for doing one fine job handling hungry crowds of winners and losers.

But we gotta tell you, if you really want quantity and more quantity, the place to go is Dysart’s, off exit 44 on Route 95.

We pulled up at Dysart’s on one of the busiest nights around. We had to wait in line, but we didn’t mind. Folks were awful nice and promised we’d get a table soon. Which we did, and right within eyeshot of the 1928 Ford in the middle of the room. That Ford takes up a lot of space, and right where there might be a few more tables, but we gotta give it to the folks at Dysart’s. They sure are committed to stuff with wheels. Why, right out in the parking lot, a platoon of trucks was lined up, lights on, engines running.

Dysart’s is also committed to stuff with four hooves, too, and probably the most popular meals on the menu are choice western sirloin steak, steak combos, Big Rig Burgers, the Big “D” Burger (with Swiss cheese and mushrooms), Wow What a Burger (Swiss and American cheeses, sauteed green peppers and onions), and the Big One (double the burger, double the cheese) (and pass the antacid). There are also lots of chicken dishes, a stir fry, club sandwiches, salads, Yankee pot roast, grilled liver and bacon, and fish dishes.

Special subs for tourney week include the Dysart’s steak bomb (belches are no charge), the Lumber Jack Combo, a grilled cheese and steak sandwich, and the marinated steak sub. Yum yum, and here’s hoping you don’t feel like a dirigible afterward.

Since 1967, Dysart’s has claimed a specialty in camp food. This is the place to get beans and homemade bread, and not much in the way of nouveau cuisine. The biggest hit for 25 years, according to the menu, is the hot turkey, beef or hamburger sandwich, drenched with gravy. In other words, this is not the night to bring up Uncle Fred’s bad heart or the blockage in sister’s carotid artery. No, no. Leave those negativities at the door.

The words “big and bland” were a recurring motif at our table. Later that night, when we were all safely at home, the kids asked what we had to eat. “Oh, it all tasted about the same,” we told them, “except Father’s looked like ham, Mother’s looked like fish, and Auntie’s looked like cheese steak.”

It’s true. The chicken and bacon sub with french fries looked suspiciously like the ribeye steak and onion rings a few tables over. And the french toast, ordered off the 24-hour breakfast menu, looked shamefully like … well, we’ll spare you.

The general consensus was that the best thing about Dysart’s was the menu. That is, until dessert came. Although the expression “holy cow” probably is more appropriate to use for the entrees, we exclaimed it time and time again during dessert. We were tempted to order the 18 Wheeler, a banana split so large we felt it might get us all the way to Boise without having to take a snoozer. But we settled on fresh lemon meringue pie, which was sweet and tart. The chocolate cream pie was light and heavy. Daisy’s bread apple pudding was very puddingesque. The strawberry short cake was anything but short.

Our ultimate favorite was the Mud Puff, which we discovered is a puff pastry stuffed with coffee ice cream and topped with hot fudge, whipped cream and nuts. When we asked what kind, we were told, “just nuts.” So we asked to have them left off. But the Mud Puff was the hit of the evening, not just because we liked saying those two words together (Mud Puff, Mud Puff — c’mon, try it) but because it was thoroughly, gloriously, cloggingly decadent. At least one member of our evening’s family declared that she also liked the sentiment behind the menu’s invitation to “celebrate with pie.” A quick glance around the room proved that eaters at Dysart’s live by this credo.

The cost of meals ranges from a side salad for $1.95 to the Fisherman’s Platter for $15.95. All this week, there’s also baked ham topped with pineapple sauce. And don’t forget the special board, the delicacies of which we will leave to your imagination.

About the setting. The first whiff of outside air fills the quota for the ingestion of carbon monoxide. This is a truck stop, after all, so any complaints won’t be tolerated. Watch out, too, because there are bonafide truckers hanging on the phones talking to their sweeties four days down the road.

Inside, Dysart’s is like an upscale logging camp with long tables, cute plaid valances on the windows, and high-tech photographs for art on the walls. Each table comes with a carton of creamers, a tub of butters, and ketchup, which goes well on nearly everything. And we didn’t even have to take our baseball caps off. Heck, no one else did.

The bathrooms deserve a special note: Go before you leave the house, especially if you have a delicate disposition. But if you need a shower, you can get that here, too. These Dysarts, they’ve thought of everything, and we like the way they treat the good buddies of the world.

There’s even a game room AND a convenience store. We’d be hard pressed to find another market with as many choices in the beef-jerky display.

Now a disclaimer. We don’t have any kids in this week’s tournament. But that’s another reason we chose Dysart’s, which we nominate for the Ah Food Gold Medal of Friendliness. Right next door to us, at the same table actually, were two families from Ellsworth. They had come to see their team win, which it did. And they promised to return later in the week. They didn’t have any kids in high school either, but they had come all this way to shout “Go, team,” and they sure were famished. They ate a lot and made us feel a part of it all.

That’s what’s so nice about Dysart’s. Good ol’ family spirit.

And Mud Puff, Mud Puff, Mud Puff.

No sireeebob, it doesn’t get any better than that.