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| - This is another example of a restaurant that survives and thrives based more on reputation and perception, than actual food quality. When one claims to be a diner, the fundamentals of such a claim should start with breakfast. Frankly, how hard is it to screw up breakfast? You don't have to make an outstanding breakfast, but you have to make one that at least is as good as one would make in their own kitchen. Such is not the case with Hubbard Diner. If you read the reviews by Scott C and Hannah M, you will note that they are intrigued by the uniforms and t-shirts, rather than the food. If I want to go somewhere to see great uniforms, I would think of the Wynn in Vegas or the Borgata in Atlantic City. I came here for the diner food.
The scrambled eggs were dry and brown. The hash brown was bland and again, dry. The toast had a nice flavor but was hard and cold. The orange juice was not fresh squeezed but rather tasted like what McDonald's serves. How do you get away with serving this type of breakfast and still able to call yourself a diner? The decor is cute and kitschy. The use of the math symbol for pi is fun but not unique. All of that can't overcome the plain, and rather bland food.
I would like to thank the patrons who dined around me that morning for making me realize I am still in back-ass dumb-f*ck America. Despite the fact that less than a mile away is a Starbucks and other chain restaurants, rural america still exists. The table across from me was a group of gentlemen discussing electricity and wiring on a farm, while the table behind me had two older men talking about Jews, how cheap they are and how they go to their own temples to worship whatever they worship with their own people. Thanks fellow patrons for making me remember why I prefer urban centers and I am always much safer in Newark or Harlem than I ever will be in back-ass, farm lands.
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