In making the arduous ride to Boston to check out the revived Celtics, we decided to meet at Warren’s renowned Country Inn for a budget-friendly, home-cooked meal before enduring the trek 60 miles to the north, rather than settling for uninspired pizza and overpriced fried franchise cuisine near the Fleet

It’s easy to miss the grey shingle exterior while admiring the 18-hole country clubs along Route 136. An elongated corridor lined with seats and benches as you approach the hostess station is a not-so-subtle hint that this place can fill up quickly (hence the enormous parking lot), particularly with the usual bevy of blue-haired early birds. The plastic-wrapped windows in the adjacent non-smoking section had us feeling like Biosphere participants, but with the ridiculous winter we’ve endured, we’ll trade warmth for aesthetics any day.

My dining duo of East Bay locals continued to crack wise about the old folk clearing out in time for the 7 p.m. power hour of Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy! But enough zinging the elderly, it was time to examine the endless specials — about two-dozen, on a Tuesday night no less. My dining companions were chatting up the entrees before we arrived and had already settled on usual standbys while this night owl contemplated force-feeding himself a three-course meal at 5 p.m.

No big surprises in the appetizer department, so we decided to scrape the ocean floor clean with a few stuffies ($1.95 each), a half-pound of peel-and-eats ($8.50), and the requisite calamari — kudos to management for sticking with the phrase "sautéed squid." The translucent rings were flash-fried and served simply, with extra hot peppers as requested. I also chose the New England clam chowder (available daily) over salad, and it turned out to be the only minor setback of the meal. The lukewarm chowder could’ve used a few stirs of the ladle beforehand to evenly distribute the heat

Alas, we made quick work of the shellfish, and I finally decided on the Black Forest sirloin, an outrageous bargain at $10.95. My Italian appetite leaned toward the pasta in lieu of the potato and veggie option. The generous platter of spaghetti was at least 10 minutes past al dente, but the delicious marinara sauce (homemade as confirmed by our excellent waiter Paul) masked the oversight. The thick and juicy sirloin was cooked to a perfect medium, and eventually made for a king-size, post-game midnight snack. The four asparagus spears retained their proper textural contrast, and the red wine-mustard glaze (balanced out within brown gravy) added an unexpected, piquant twang.

Our entrees quickly became community platters, as this correspondent reached for a sample of the Chicken Sorrentina ($11.95). Properly presented with eggplant, ricotta, mozzarella, and thinly sliced prosciutto rather than ham, the dish could rival that of any glorified Federal Hill kitchen or Downcity bistro. The lobster roll ($13.95 year-round) was proclaimed the best in the state by our Barrington native, and she wasn’t kidding. The flattened hot dog roll submitted to a mound of fresh lobster with the appropriate dash of mayo and nothing more, a simple and delicious recipe.

The star of the evening, however, may have been the veggie du jour, "deep-fried cauliflower." Forgive me, for I have never heard of such a creation, and my buddies subdued my usually unwavering skepticism. Prior to this meal, my outlook on cauliflower went something like this: a miserable shrub of a vegetable, offering a horrendous texture no matter the preparation, to be consumed by burrowing varmints or vegan hipsters. So to say we’ve come full-circle on the dreaded cauliflower is an understatement. I wolfed down about four florets (which could easily pass for jalape–o poppers) while reaching for the accompanying side of sour cream — yikes! And rather than a combustible ball of grease ready to detonate (e.g., fried mushrooms), the new and improved calorie-laden cauliflower could even pass as kid-friendly.

As we kicked back and sipped another round of Bass, our crew realized it was time to hit the highway, so we had to pass on the half-dozen offered desserts (along with a dozen hot specialty drinks).

The service is also worth a special mention. As if $10 steaks and deep-fried veggies weren’t reason enough to take a ride down Route 136, perhaps the Country Inn’s greatest selling point is the wait staff. Given the typical clientele, one would expect stellar service, and our waiter Paul (who could pass for a high school senior) exceeded all expectations. In fact, the only complaint we heard all evening involved our lack of more Celts’ tickets.