My favorite place to eat reeks with charm. Chrome and Formica charm, that is, with a neon sign that beckons you to slide into a pink pleather booth for a cup of hot Joe. I’m talking diners, those 24/7 eateries that serve banana pancakes to shrimp scampi, with waitresses that call you “Honey” and carry five bowls of hot soup while they make you a hot fudge sundae.
Diners comfort me. The sound of dishes clanging in the kitchen, oldies playing on the table-top jukebox, the smell of greasy French fries all give me a warm and fuzzy. At a diner, the waitress never judges you when you order eggplant parmesan with a side of onion rings and a hot chocolate. She doesn’t fall down in horror when you ask for fish cakes and spaghetti with sauerkraut. You could order a bacon omelet with a side of pork chops, and she’d say, “You want fries with that?” That’s her job. She’s your waitress, not your cardiologist.
But now, the Covid-19 pandemic has forced diners here in New Jersey to close their doors to the general public. The only diner food I can get is take-out, but how do I know the kitchen staff practices social distancing? Is the chef wearing a face mask? Does the dishwasher have a fever?
So, if I’m not going to order take-out from my favorite diner, then I have no other choice but to start cooking. I can poach an egg. I can make a tuna sandwich, but when it comes to making dinner, I’m worthless. My kitchen is a no fry zone.
There’s a reason I steer clear from the kitchen stove. It’s called lack of talent. If I were to make a vegetarian meatloaf, you might as well ask me to build bunkbeds. Trust me, I’ve tried.
A couple years back, my boyfriend and I were invited to a potluck Thanksgiving dinner and I got the bright idea to make a lentil meatloaf. Mm-mm, doesn’t that sound appetizing? I downloaded the recipe and picked up the ingredients at the supermarket. When I got home, I realized I missed a couple of items, but figured who’s gonna know? So, I poured the concoction into a sheet pan and shoved it in the oven. When I took it out an hour later, it looked like a tray of melted cow pies.
We brought my lentil meatloaf to the Thanksgiving dinner and they put it right next to the stuffed turkey. I was excited to see one of the guests dig in. She held a piece on her fork and bit into it like it was a jelly apple. At the end of the night, the hostess insisted I take home my meatloaf which she graciously put out on the curb next to the recyclables.
I decided to try a different recipe, and this time, I would have all the ingredients.
Mac & Cheese
Open Box
Pour into Boiling Water
Cook 8 Minutes, Drain
Stir in Cheese Stuff
Spoon on Plate
Search for Tums in Bottom of Purse
Alright, so it takes practice.
We all miss our favorite eateries that serve our favorite comfort foods whether its poached eggs on toast at the diner or quail eggs on a croissant at the Waldorf. Let’s just keep in mind that the food is the catalyst that brings us together. It’s the people we dined with and the things we talked about that we remember.
So, let’s all stay the course. This, too, shall pass. And when this Covid-19 is finally gone, we will go back to our favorite restaurants and eat, drink, laugh, and reminisce.
After all, good things are worth the wait.
See you next week!
Pictured: The Boulevard Diner, Worcester, Massachusetts
Sally I love your posts. I too ❤ a greasy diner❣All I can say, is I am not much better at cooking. Miss you. Take care.
Hi Pat, thank you! Hope you are doing well despite all this madness!!