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| - I like a restaurant that doesn't really care about me. Too many restaurants slink around your ankles like beaten dogs, cravenly asking, "Do you want anything, sir? Please? Yes, I can get it for you, restaurant-Gollum loves the master, we adoreses you..."
John's Diner will serve you, but on its own terms. They treat you like people; they're happy to see you, but they've been around for fifty years and will be around for fifty more. The waitresses tell you what's going on in the back, complain merrily about the job, bring your food to you, pat you on the shoulders. They have that quiet pride that says, "If you behave well, you're part of the family here. If not, here's the door." I didn't ask for anything special, but one suspects that if I asked them for, say, a pomegranate-infused soda, they'd look at me sternly and go, "Now, what did you want THAT for?"
As such, it's supremely pleasant atmosphere. This is a classic DINER diner, a long narrow train tube with a row of stools for the quick eaters and beat-up booths in the back, where the scents waft out of the kitchen behind the counter.
The food? Well, as Gini notes, they put the greasy in greasy spoon, but that's actually part of the charm; they don't care about eating healthy, they want you to eat hearty. They have all the greatest diner hits, from eggs and bacon to open-faced turkey sandwich, and the food is not exceptional but it is home-made and fills you up quite nicely on a low budget.
Would I recommend this to my snooty foodie friends? No. But would I take them here the morning after a night out for comfort food? You betcha. Would I go here myself when I'm tired of exotic foods and just want a damn sandwich?
In a heartbeat.
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