For a really long time I didn’t understand the draw of the diner. I grew up in the middle of nowhere and the only decent diners were at least 25 minutes in opposite directions. We still went (my mom loved going out for breakfast), but I always saw it as an inconvenience.
Then I moved and consistently got out of work at midnight. My coworkers and I would regularly go to a diner and get milkshakes and fries after our shifts, still wearing our uniforms and exhausted from angry guests at the hotel we all worked at. On the nights that we would plan on going, it kept us moving during our shifts and made things bearable. On the nights when we decided at 11:30 that we would go, it felt like a well deserved gift to ourselves at the end of a particularly hard night.
Diners were suddenly important to me and I understood why they were so important to other people, too. No longer an inconvenience, going to a diner was an indulgence. Breakfast was always rushed during the week and often an afterthought on the weekends, an obligation of sorts. After my late shifts I would usually make popcorn in my apartment and then shuffle off to bed. But when we went to a diner, suddenly it felt like we were doing something good for ourselves. We deserved it. After a long shift, there will always be milkshakes and fries to fix things. It was easy to justify because it was cheap, but it was still special. It didn’t have to be expensive to be special. It was a diner; the fair price was all part of it. We were all making minimum wage and no one could afford much more than a diner.
Diners are familiar--you’ll always be able to find one. And at every diner, without fail, you can walk in and order 2 eggs, any style, a side of bacon, and toast. If you can’t, well, then are you really at a diner? There’s always a section on the menu that locals know about. Maybe it’s the pancakes, maybe it’s the biscuits, maybe it’s the frittata specials, maybe it’s the housemade ketchup. Whatever it is, there’s always something special about a diner. Each has a weird and enchanting blend of the familiar and the unique. No matter what you’re up for, the diner is there for you. They have the classic buttermilk pancakes, but they also have oreo mint chocolate cookies and cream pancakes too. So, what’ll it be, hon?
Diners aren’t making food just for the elite. We’re not talking about places that are breaking the culinary paradigms. We’re not talking about the next Noma. They probably won’t serve you chocolate cake with a beet puree garnish. They might have an omelette with goat cheese, but they probably also have one with American cheese too. They’re not pretentious. They’re humble. And they’ll serve that to you in the form of a pie. You want ice cream with that?
Diners don’t judge you. We’re talking about a place that exists to feed you. They want you to be comfortable. They want you to feel at home. You’re welcome there. Whether you just got off your shift at midnight, are recovering from a night of too much tequila or are in the middle of a road trip and need a break and something relatively quick, the diner is there. The diner is made for anytime. The diner is made for everyone. The diner is made for you.
Sean Brock’s first time seeing someone cook for a living was in a Waffle House. Now he owns three restaurants and won a James Beard Award (basically the grammy for chefs). Diners can inspire. Diners should be taken seriously. The cooks at the egg station are working damn hard. But they won’t be offended if you don’t take them entirely seriously, just as long as you enjoy your food. They’re humble enough that they’ll stay right where they are, plugging away to provide you with eggs and bacon and pancakes without you giving them a second thought. Once you do, though, you’ll understand it. You’ll be so damn grateful for that diner and the other diner and all of the diners and the comfort they serve. Then again, maybe I take diners too seriously.
Even so, diners will take your huddled masses. They’re always there, neon lights never flickering, doors never locked, ever-so-slightly-sticky vinyl booths to welcome you, no matter what state you’re in or who you are. I hear they just made fresh coffee, too.