| Don't Bother |
Diners. I love diners. I became addicted to diner food in New England where you can still find some of the old
rail-car diners operating. Breakfasts with rye toast, omelets of every
description, and gallons of coffee, all had with a fat newspaper from New
York or Boston. Sigh, it was a hard transition coming to C'ville.
Week after week I tried to find a breakfast place that would deliver
what my spoiled ex-Yank palate wanted (I'm originally from Virgina, but
went native in New England with the food). I was finally steered to the
Tavern by friends (I use that term lightly) who proclaimed that this
was the place EVERYONE loved.
First impression--worn out. The place is coyote ugly. It hasn't been
remodeled (maintained?) since the French and Indian war. The floor
looks like it could be housing pathogens not found anywhere else.
The decor is trailer-park yard sale without the charm. Ugly doesn't 't
describe this place. Flypaper ambiance.
But I'm a good sport--just ask me. So I ventured in and had a seat in a
chair that seemed stable enough and tried to enjoy.
The waitress couldn't have been less interested. Apparently that is
supposed to be part of the charm; a cavalier (get it? Cavalier? yeah, I
liked that a lot too) attitude towards any and every person actually
trying to give them money is apparently considered hip, or whatever term is now
used to describe cool. Service was at best begrudging. Now I have been
to places that revel in rudeness, and a certain give and take between
waiters and customers, but most of those do so with a certain skill
that is meant to entertain. There was no skill in this one, just crap service. What a treat.
I was seated near a back corner, next to a storage area with an open
door. I wish I hadn't looked in. There were actual creatures scurrying
about. Please don't get me wrong, I'm not a squeamish person. I'm old
military in fact--there are things I can eat that would have you
flashing. But volunteering to eat in what appears to be a less than clean restaurant isn't
my idea of way cool.
The food was simple enough: eggs overeasy, bacon, toast and grits. It
was adequate...unremarkable but adequate. I ate it quickly, did not
linger over coffee, and after finally begging the wait-bitch to give me
the bill, scurried out (scurrying being the common activity there).
Apparently others are able to hear the sound of one-hand clapping in the Tavern. I can't.
I just don't get it. Guess you have to be "with it" to discern the
coolness. For those of us who are less cool--go to the Tip Top.
Don't Bother
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Don't Bother |