If you sliced open your index finger on your steak knife after one too many libations at the company Christmas party Tuesday night, going to Logan’s Roadhouse on Wednesday afternoon may not be a great idea. See, they sit out buckets of unshelled peanuts on every table, inviting customers to crack open the nuts and toss the shells on the floor, and while that’s cool in a fingerpainting-on-the-walls kind of way, I can say with complete authority: Salt burns.

I spent the first part of my meal nursing my throbbing finger while a co-worker – who from here on out shall be referred to as &#8220Jimmy,” short for former President Jimmy Carter, peanut man – happily cracked and chucked away, flinging his peanut shells across the room with childlike abandon. It took me back to my college days, blissfully shoving piles of peanut shells on the floor of Mark’s Brother’s bar. The main difference, of course, is that when I lunched at the Roadhouse on Wednesday, I was wearing a business suit and was actually encouraged to dump the shells, not furtively swiveling my T-shirt-and-jeans-clad body at Mark’s Brother’s to hide the growing heap of refuse under the table.

Our waitress, Lindsay, told us that peanuts are a big deal at Logan’s Roadhouse, as evidenced by the huge barrel of peanuts just inside the front door, the tin buckets of peanuts on every table, and the crushed shells littering the floor. (Jimmy observed, &#8220Someone with peanut allergies would likely die just walking through the door.”) She took our drink orders and talked up the appetizers, but we passed and she brought us a basket of rolls instead.

These rolls were fantastic – warm and drizzled with butter, served with a cup of butter on the side. We nibbled on them while perusing the menu, which lists a dazzling array of beef, chicken, seafood and salad choices, plus a special &#8220express” section for power lunches: food that can be prepared in 15 minutes or less. Since it took us half our hourlong lunch break to get up Scottsville Road to the restaurant, we chose the mesquite salmon Caesar salad (me) and the talapia fillets with a sweet potato and &#8220Brewski Onions” (Jimmy).

Since the menu told us lunch would be ready in 15 minutes, I kept a close eye on my cell phone clock. The final tally was more like 20 minutes, but we passed the time cracking nuts and noticing all the cool tavern-y decorations, like neon beer signs and larger-than-life murals depicting couples dancing in front of a jukebox and a table full of poker players. The stereo system played a steady mix of contemporary and &#8220oldie” country songs, including &#8220Black Water” by the Doobie Brothers – one of my favorites.

Our plates arrived and we surveyed them with satisfaction: a vegetable skewer had somehow made its way onto Jimmy’s plate, which momentarily mystified our waitress before she cheerfully shrugged it off and told us to have at it. The skewer, made even more delicious because it was free, held roasted tomatoes, zucchini, peppers, mushrooms, onions and squash, and was fabulous. Jimmy’s brewski onions, braised in Amber Bock, were &#8220sweet and tangy – not pungent like onions at all,” he reported.

My salad was fairly drowning in Caesar dressing, but was crowned by a fillet that perfectly matched those salmon pink Crayola crayons I used to scribble with when I was a child. The fillet was nice and flaky, and the big old croutons hiding underneath the Romaine lettuce were crunchy and flavorful – all in all, a delicious salad.

Logan’s Roadhouse reminds me of The Wagon Wheel, my favorite hole-in-the-wall bar back home, but with a classy twist. The air isn’t thick with smoke, the music isn’t overpoweringly loud, and the wood-paneled walls aren’t pocked with knife marks. Televisions hang from the ceiling – the one closest to our table was playing ESPN – and, except for the peanut shells everywhere, the place was clean and spacious.

I guess you know you’re an adult when you pick a bar because of its cleanliness, not despite it. I can’t be that grown-up, though – there are still peanut-shell shards on the sleeve of my business suit.

Logan’s Roadhouse

2920 Scottsville Road

Phone: 846-2771

Hours: 11 a.m. to 10 p.m. Sunday through Thursday; 11 a.m. to 11 p.m. Friday and Saturday. Bar opens at 11 a.m. every day.

Cuisine: Good old-fashioned cow

Price range: $1.99 for various sides to $19.99 for a porterhouse steak

Libation situation: Lots of it!

Smoking: Yes

– Our anonymous restaurant reviewer still has a box of Crayola crayons, and still doesn’t what know &#8220burnt umber” is. New restaurants will be given an eight-week grace period. Send comments to Managing Editor Mike Alexieff at malexieff@bgdailynews.com, or call him at 783-3235.