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Sometimes you just crave a classic shiny diner Saturday, Aug 2, 2008 By Micki Bare For 14 years, I na?vely took for granted all the wonderful diners that dotted my birth-state of New Jersey. My children get excited if we stop by a fast food restaurant in the course of a busy week. They have missed out on the diner experience - a gross negligence on my part that needs to be remedied. For some reason, on a recent trip to visit with our kinfolk, I had an intense craving to enjoy a slow, comfortable breakfast at an authentic diner before heading south on I-95. Hubby obliged me, steering the car toward a diner that he frequented during his childhood. From the outside, the shiny silver d?cor seems the same as any other diner. But once you step through the doors, it doesn't take long to discover that every diner quietly boasts its own character and style. Every diner perfects its own cuisine specialty. Every diner hosts its own cast of regulars. The first thing Hubby and I did was order coffee. Even with their gourmet blends and fancy names, chain restaurants just cannot hold a candle to diner coffee. Once I began sipping, I couldn't stop - a choice I would regret when we hit traffic south of Washington, D.C. It took us at least three coffee refills to read the entire menu. If you are from out of town, and not a regular patron, the choices are seemingly endless. And since no two diners are the same, each has its own eight to ten page list of breakfast, lunch and supper options - all of which are available around the clock. Every time I asked Hubby what he was going to order, he'd respond, "The Pop Pop special." Since there were other similarly named specials listed throughout the menu book, I figured it was a special I had not come across in my reading just yet. After the server checked on us for the fourth time - at a diner, if you're not immediately ready to order, the servers actually keep returning to check on you - I finally turned to Hubby and said, "Maybe I'll get that special you picked. Where is that Pop Pop special on the menu?" Hubby looked at me with a grin, and then nostalgically explained, "It's not on the menu. It's what I used to order when I ate here with my Pop Pop twenty-five years ago. When I would ask him if he was paying, he would elbow me and say, 'Get whatever you want,' and I would order the Belgian waffles topped with strawberries and cream with a side of scrambled eggs." I rolled my eyes and retreated back to the delectable descriptions, finally deciding upon blueberry pancakes. Simple, I know, but diner pancakes are the best. They are always big and fluffy and they hold their butter and syrup well. There had to be a half-bushel of ripe, juicy blueberries inside each pancake based on the shade of my lips when we left. While we were enjoying our inexpensive, yummy breakfast, which by the time we decided what to order could better be described as brunch, we flipped through the song list on the mini-jukebox at our table. We glanced at the display of "Made Fresh Onsite" cakes and pies slowly spinning near the entry. After pancakes, waffles and eggs - oh, and a side of home fries because they looked and smelled so good - we had no room for dessert. We had no room for any other meals for the next two days. However, we did have room to make plans to return just for dessert and coffee on our next visit. We watched as others were seated. Some knew the diner staff by name - and the diner staff knew them by name. A dad came in with his son for some one-on-one time and a slice of pie. There was a family that took up several booths, all chatting and laughing and celebrating. Several groups of retired folks came by to slowly enjoy the senior specials and catch up on current events. The servers knew every item in the menu by heart, knew all the regular patrons by name and served every guest as if they were a regular. That's when I noticed that diner servers did not wear pants and a themed t-shirt. They wore the same blue server outfits with white aprons I remembered from the diners of my youth. On the drive home, I fantasized about opening an authentic diner in our neck of the woods. We could build it with a shiny exterior and 50's style booths and counters inside. We could develop a 10-page menu book and include lots of great specials. Then again, even with the price of gas, it would probably be cheaper to just make sure we include diners on the itinerary when our kids come with us on our excursions to visit our Yankee kin. ------- Micki Bare is a columnist for the Arkansas News Bureau and the Courier-Tribune in Asheboro, N.C., and author of the book, "Relative Expressions." She lives in Asheboro with her husband and three children. Her e-mail address is mickibare@inspiredscribe.com. |
