"For many of the guys that work here, [one man since the late fifties] the restaurant is like a second home - some of them have been slinging burgers, making shakes, and waiting on customers at this location for decades. Opened in 1938, the place hasn't been altered since the early '60s, and it looks all the better for it."
Now I've had many burgers here during my decades in the hive and "They make a tasty burger." Not the best burger.... that would have to go to PJ Clarkes in the late 1970s. But tasty just the same.
Posted by gerardvanderleun at February 2, 2012 2:16 PM
In some ways, it reminds me of the two good coney places in downtown Detroit.
And then there is Sparty's in Lansing, where I now live. Go sit at the counter - there is the rack with the menu and salt, pepper, ketchup, and mustard, and the waitress (always looking across the room says "What'll you have?" And sometimes it's" What'll you have, hun?") For lunch a coney (Flint style or Detroit style - gotta choose) and fries. "And water please, miss."
I love that. Open a paper (there's usually a couple on the gumball machine you can read - just put them back), eat, and leave.
No pretensions - it is a diner and the formica counter top (wood-grained) is worn, but the food is cooked right before you on the old stainless steel clad appliances, and the faded ads are on the wall, and the university team stuff also, and - the food's hot and good - onions are grand on a coney - and the fries are crisp and the ketchup bottle is full.
And I am satisfied.
Clean up the area (I was taught not to make a mess while eating, and I like to leave a clean area for the server - they got enough to do already), fold up the paper to put down on the gumball machine for someone else, slap a dollar on the counter, and get in line to pay. Something under five bucks, get the change, put down the paper on that gumball machine (does anyone actually buy gumballs from this?) and go outside and go back to work. Ten minutes to go. From here? Not a problem. In eight minutes I walk back in, give a slight belch (excuse me), go to the office and grab the toothbrush and such.
The afternoon starts. How I love finding an excuse to take me that way for lunch.
I find you have to treasure the little comforts, because it is silly things like that civilization allows to exist. A diner. And a coney. And fries. Onions on the coney, and thank you, miss.
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