Be Careful Out There

The thing about comfort food is, it makes you feel good when you eat it. Whether it's a warm bowl of macaroni & cheese (I'm not talking about the boxed variety here, folks) or a the meatloaf on the blue plate special, or a great burger - there's a certain feeling about sitting down and digging in. Aside from the authentic taste and even the feel of the food as you eat it, there are even emotions and memories that are dredged up from childhood experiences or home-cooked meals from long ago.

And while we're aware of the potential dangers of indulging from too much fast food (personally I believe that the issues in "Super Size Me" lay at the feet of the consumers, not the company), it can be easy to forget our health when we're enjoying some unique and down-home cooking. Especially since diners and independent restaurants aren't required to list nutritional information of their menu items.

So, today's post is a bit of a public service announcement to remind you that anything you consume should be done in moderation. Especially if you happen to visit the establishments listed in this article about the Seven Fattiest Sandwiches in the U.S. I'm horrified to discover that I've had the pastrami sandwich at the Carnegie Deli (a place that will have a future review here on the site).

Enjoy your meal. Just don't enjoy too much of it. :-)

Flickr image courtesy of: bunchofpants

Lloyd's Diner

Earlier this year, C.C. Chapman and I had breakfast at the well-hidden Lloyd's diner in Framingham, MA. Thought I'd provide an update based on my memories of the outing.

If I recall, it was late winter/early spring, on a raw morning when the rain was pelting down in the gravel parking lot. I waited in the car for a while before C.C. arrived, and I saw a variety of people entering: police officers, businessmen, bus drivers - clearly all locals. This place evidently was a hidden gem. One of the reasons I knew about it was from the Roadside Architecture site.

The booths were tight, as you'd expect from a vintage Worcester Lunch Car (this was #783, made in 1942), and the draft from the busy door being opened & closed as cold. But the coffee was hot and the butter on the toast was thickly spread, so all was good.

More than the food though, what I remember was having a great conversation with a good friend - in this case, C.C. We talked about work and family life and all of the kinds of things you'd expect two busy guys to discuss. But what stands out for me is how hard the place was to find and how worthwhile it was once I got there.

In this case, I was determined to (1) try a new place that I heard great things about; and (2) make sure I spent some time with a valued friend, whom I hadn't seen since our last diner outing some 3 months previous. While we may be connected digitally, it's the face-to-face that counts. And when it's difficult to make happen, it's this kind of commitment that differentiates an acquaintance from a friend.

I suppose this is a metaphor for life. Very seldom are the worthwhile things easy to achieve. Sure there's dumb luck sometimes, but if you don't prepare yourself to be ready, or if you don't keep persevering, you may find that your most fervent desires don't just show up on your doorstep.

So this year, make some time to do what's right, even though it may not be easy. You'll find yourself handsomely rewarded, even if it's just with a sense of satisfaction.


Photo credit: andyi

The Night of the Living Diner

I'd say that pretty much anyone who is familiar with popular culture as seen the Edward Hopper painting Nighthawks. You may not know it by name, but the glassed-in corner diner seems to be universally recognized the classic nighttime diner scene.

While its location is never indicated in the painting, I'm always reminded of Chicago (even though Hopper was inspired by a long since demolished diner in Greenwich Village in New York). I find myself reminded of movies that contain similar diner-inspired scenes - movies that were set in Chicago - and they always bring me back to Hopper's painting, which is elegant in its straight lines and starkly contrasting light & dark colors. Movies like The Sting or Dick Tracy.

It's funny - Hopper's work speaks of the loneliness and solitude that city life brings to the millions of denizens that happen to live and work near each other. Late at night, across the counter from each other, even though they're sharing a meal, these people are alone. And to me, this is the absolute antithesis of my own diner experiences. I love to go with people, to share a meal, to swap stories, and to just live. Even if I happen to be alone on a stool at the counter, it's fun chatting with the cook or the waitress, to get a sense as to what makes them tick and what they see on an average day.

A friend recently sent me a Chicago Tribune article called Diners with a side of noir, in which the author seeks to recreate the perfect Hopperesque scene late at night in Chicago diners. There's a video that accompanies the article, so it's worth the click. It also mentions a Hopper retrospective that's going on at the Art Institute of Chicago, where Nighthawks permanently resides.

If you can't get there, maybe you can just enjoy the blue plate special at your favorite diner and this little visual homage: