Diners Hash Out Plans to Weather Recession
I love me a good diner. And I’m even willing to tolerate a subpar one if the structure is as ancient as the waitresses–who must be named something like Bertha, and the kitchen staff something like Hank–and they’ll let me sit there for a while.
Thus I was pleased to see the Washington City Paper’s Tim Carman has a nice piece up today on the place of diners in tough economic times. Right off the bat, Carman nails why anyone worth knowing loves a diner:
There’s something about sitting in a diner, sipping coal-black coffee and shoveling down a syrupy stack of silver-dollar pancakes, that makes you want to spill your guts for hours.
Carman points out that though diners aren’t totally recession-proof, they are (like McDonald’s) capable of and experienced at weathering the financial storm.
If you’re the owner of a restaurant in a recession,” says [American City Diner's Jeffrey] Gildenhorn, “you want to own a diner.”
My favorite diner of all time–my favorite place of all time, ahead of, say, the Duomo in Florence, or Fenway Park–was the old Post Office Diner in Beverly, Mass., where I grew up. I’d go every Sunday morning, without fail, with my grandmother.
Best eggs, toast, home fries, and coffee–which I started drinking at age six–ever. Some Sundays, I’d make my parents take me back for a lunch of lightly salted tuna on a top-split hot dog bun, fries, and a coffee frappe.
I have vehemently hated the French (all of them) since the local Franco-American Club–the landowner–evicted the P.O.D. to make room for parking.
After French people ruined my childhood, I’d have to settle on the Agawam Diner in Rowley, Mass., or the Portside Diner (in nearby Danvers, where my parents now live).
Anyone else have a favorite diner? (Hint: if you are worth talking to, the answer is “yes.”) Where’s it at?
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Roxanne
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Savannah Red
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Pete Guither
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Chris