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| - Note: I forgot to get their hours, but I do know from calling them a couple of times that they are open until 3pm on weekdays and 2pm on Saturdays. I don't know if they're open 7 days a week. Their phone number is listed in case you want check.
Note: Breakfast appears to be the specialty on their modest menu, but they also offer lunch, which is what we had on this visit.
So, I got dear old grumpypants outta the house today (va-k-day for me) to make a Yelp run. CC's was our last stop and was a place I had rode past numerous times and had wondered about.
Here, Sal G., man-about-Yelp, gad-about- Miami/Pittsburgh, and one of this site's true good guys, is lamenting the "death" of area diners in the forums.
Well, guess what Thor 'n Odin found today.
A nice, little diner. Microscopic even. There's one counter and there may be more dining space up the stairs and around the corner, but I'm not sure about that.
Zeus was skeptical.
"You know these people in Lebo and dem meters. You better plug some quarters in there, kid. Who knows how long we'll be."
"Relax, Dad, relax. We have an hour."
"This neighborhood's too fancy fer me. They all vote Republican 'n 'at."
"Dad, will you stop? Please. Look, there's an Obama sticker on the bumper in front of us."
"Yeah, but I seen a Nader one too. You know he got bought off, right?"
My inner Jewish person was screaming "OY VEY" at this point.
Meanwhile passersby are doing nothing but smiling and nodding to us and generally being almost too polite.
Not that Lebo isn't the Shadyside of the South Hills, but not every place in this area is out of a workin' man's league. In fact, CC's rather sticks out (squats?) like a John Birch Society member at a Bad Religion/System of a Down/ Rage Against The Machine triple bill!
But it does so in a quaint way, a way that is just content and couldn't care less. Hey, their awning rocks a blue/white striped canopy that flapped like a mallard in the wet, chilly wind. That's character.
Teutel Sr.'s unease was quickly lifted when we saw the two 50-ish women behind the counter who both asked us upon entering, "Where yinz guys work at?"
"Oh I'm retired 2 years now. My knucklehead kid here just got canned."
There was silence.
"Nah, he's playin' hooky," Martin Crane reassured them.
Then there was a huge chuckle.
"What'll ya have?"
We both tried the Chicken Dumpling Soup, and it won my father's approval, which is big considering that he is highly critical of any dumpling not made by his long-gone mother.
The dumplings were large, dense and almost took up the bowl a la Matzah Ball soup, but the broth was a plentiful ambrosia and the cubed chicken was nigh perfection in its tenderness and flavor. This is arguably the best specimen of Chicken Dumpling Soup I've ever sipped on. And those dumplings did remind me of Grandma Jeannie.
Y'know how miserable kids get talkative once they start eating something good? Well, thats Pops. And he wouldn't stop.
"My Mum used to make the dumplings with bacon and put the grease into the dumplings. Awww was it good." The two ladies were enthralled.
"Wow, I never heard of that," one of them exclaimed.
It was official. We were at home.
We each got a sandwich. I got the Brandon Burger, which is a spunky little BLT 'n cheese number that I really couldn't knock for any reason. Besides, I needed a break from large burgers anyway, especially considering that I had stomach troubles over the weekend. It was juicy chuck-wise, had the doughy, steamed bread, the crisped bacon, fresh veggies, ample cheese, and was just the thing I needed for a light (for me anyway), late lunch.
It was served with potato chips and a pretty dern fine cole slaw that was chopped "reaallll fine 'n 'at" as Jor-El puts it. My dad loved it. I liked it but thought it slightly lacked in sweetness (which is why Dad liked it) and tang. It was crunchy and creamy enough though. Good stuff overall.
Dad got a Mt. Lebo Special which is steak between two slices of Eye-Talian Bread (as pops calls it) and includes grilled onions and Thousand Island Dressing. It also comes with the chips and slaw.
Dad liked the sandwich enough but felt it needed more meat, a common problem with steak and Italian heros around the city.
"Make sure you tip these girls good," he whispers as we're finishing our meals. "I got the tab," I tell him.
Then Dad says loud enough for them to hear, "Whaddya mean yer broke again? Stop with the Cherry Masters already!"
Sam Halpern. You have met your match. Prepare for war.
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