Every person knows the best diner. No matter the neighborhood, the person, or the favorite breakfast platter, everyone thinks that the tastiest eggs over easy and greasy fries come from a local diner sooo under the radar.
It’s the diner with the best potatoes, the crispiest Belgian waffles, or the only shake worth ordering. However, it would be foolish and irresponsible for me to crown my diner with eminent honor. There is a favorite diner in each and every neighborhood that probably deserves an award.
My diner happens to be La Bonbonniere on Eighth Avenue. I am not saying it’s the best diner in the city, but I am saying it’s the best one for me.
Weave through the line on weekends and have a seat at the counter. You have better viewing of the short-order cook who seems to never mess up an order and never stop loading up the griddle with anything from eggs to bacon to burgers to pancakes. He’s got a mound in the corner of chili powdered smashed potatoes that are served alongside most breakfasts. They, I think, are the pinnacle of diner fare. They are browned and well seasoned, and the turnover is so fast that a fresh batch is always waiting to hit your plate.
The food assembly to food-in-mouth lag time is minimal. If you become a regular, the cooks will be able to finish making your dish in the time you’ve enunciated your desired platter, as I’ve seen take place over a “three-scrambled-eggs-with-extra-bacon-and-two-pieces-of-white-toast-and-a-coffee” order.
The standard diner system applies: free coffee refills, ketchup on every table, and a license but no appeal to linger in your seat. Le Bonbonniere is my stand-by for early morning, start-the-day-right meals, for post-jog meals, and for post-late night meals. Each time is as delicious and satisfying as the last. And each time, I think about how I have found the perfect diner.
No comments:
Post a Comment