Review: Ocean View Diner

Ocean View Diner
515 Atlantic Avenue (at 3rd Avenue)
B/D/M/R/Q to Atlantic/Pacific; 2/3/4/5 to Nevins; B37, B63, B65
Reviewed by Sarah D. Bunting

I've avoided reviewing this particular diner, because before it was the Ocean View, it sucked -- sugar-sticky tables, lackadaisical service, bafflement at the concept that offering a kids' menu might mean that kids will order items from it, C-minus eggs. Oh, and: no ocean view.

Trapped in traffic on Atlantic Avenue recently, however, I noticed the crisp new awning and the banners, plural, assuring prospective patrons that the spot is under new management, so I walked over on a weekday to have some lunch.

The Order:
Greek omelet with rye toast and home fries (hash browns are apparently not on offer); Diet Pepsi.

The Food:
As I waited for my omelet to hit the table, another customer asked for a raw egg in his milkshake, but the waitress turned him down, citing Board of Health restrictions. Moments later, I had to restrain myself from offering the guy a forkful of my omelet as a stopgap solution, because maybe the management is new, but the same medium-rare-at-best attitude pertains on the griddle.

The eggs presented as if they'd only just begun to cohere in the pan, and I tried to tell myself that past experience had just made me overly sensitive to the possibility of an undercooked egg, but the vegetables told the truth: the tomatoes hadn't warmed up past room temp, and the onions tasted more or less raw. Also, not enough feta.

The home fries fared better -- good chop with several pepper bits on my plate, and strongly seasoned almost to the point of spiciness. A bit dry for my taste, but frankly I was relieved that they could overcook something.

The server asked if I wanted butter on my toast, which I found a bit odd, and then apparently she meant "do you want all the butter," because each slice arrived with a soup-spoon-sized scoop of butter on top. The toast itself was firm, but not burnt.

The ketchup seemed a bit thin. Probably watered. It's in a proper glass bottle, though.

The Drinks:
The Ocean View doesn't appear to have a soda fountain; I got a glass with ice, and a can. Fine, but again, a bit odd.

The Service:
In this area, the place has improved. I walked in at 12:40 to find the place deserted, which could explain the attentive attitude, but having the place to myself on prior occasions hadn't meant a thing; one dining companion of mine, after our third failed attempt to signal for a coffee refill, compared it to being shipwrecked. The diner started to fill up closer to 1 PM, but the waitress didn't forget me.

The Surroundings:
Also much better: the table was clean, all the condiments were filled (but not overfilled!) and the mouth of the sugar dispenser was like new. A flat-screen TV had the news on over the counter. It didn't look to me like they renovated anything -- just cleaned holy hell out of it. All the wall stuff -- Brooklyn Eagle headlines, Dodgers posters, vintage maps -- is the same as before.

Miscellany:
It occurs to me that, every time I've had undercooked eggs here, I've also been one of the only customers in the joint, so maybe the griddle isn't hot enough, or the guy's in a hurry or something…it's probably a coincidence, that may have something to do with it. Seriously, though, another 60 seconds to let the edge of the omelet brown up and take some bite out of the onion, and it's perfectly fine. But it's an omelet; I don't want it al dente.

The butter thing is also bizarre -- you can't just buy the little mini-tubs? And you don't have a soda fountain? This is how you make your profit margin, chief: spend eleven cents a pour on the soda, charge two bucks. Fifth-graders know this.

Everyone who works there is pleasant, the menu is your garden-variety pretensions-to-fine-dining affair (the tip-off: the word "specialities," where the extra "i" signals to the discerning palate that continental pleasures attend the…pork chop? I don't know). But it's as though everything they know about the actual food, they learned from pictures -- like the mermaid teaching herself English from TV in Splash.

They mean well, and not having to unscrew the top of the pepper shaker and handle the overflow was nice, but it's just not that hard to make a decent Greek omelet. Fool me four times, shame on me. Flat C.

Pardon Me For Asking: A Real Brooklyn Experience: Two Toms On 3rd Avenue

Pardon Me For Asking: A Real Brooklyn Experience: Two Toms On 3rd Avenue

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Review: Dizzy's Diner

Dizzy's Diner

9th Street, corner of 8th Avenue

F to 7th Avenue; B69, B75


Reviewed by Jessa

Recently, my coworker came into work holding a coffee cup -- not from the local Starbucks, nor was it from the bodega down the block. No, this white paper cup was emblazoned with a colorful logo for "Dizzy's: The Finer Diner." I had seen the Dizzy's exterior many times in the past few years, and while I'd wanted to eat there, I had never gotten around to it. "So, how is it?" I asked, gesturing towards the cup. "Bad," she replied, scrunching her nose while willing herself to swallow another sip. Apparently, she had only gone to Dizzy's because it was close to her house and she was running late. The Finer Diner can't even get the morning cup of coffee right? Ruh roh. I had to check it out for myself.

The Order:

Portobello mushroom burger, served with a side salad and fries; coffee.

The Food:

Dizzy's menu is exciting: it's diner food, but classier. The Reuben is spiced up with "jalapeno 1000 island dressing" and pepper jack; their special oatmeal comes with different toppings daily (today, it's poached pears), and they tout a grilled Swiss cheese on Alsatian bread as one of their specials.

The breakfast sandwiches, however, are another story, with classic egg sandwiches made ironic with names like Mr. Clean (egg on a roll), DiMaggio (egg and sausage), and Coltrane (DiMaggio mas queso). They don't have scrambled eggs here, they have "wrecked" eggs. And don't you ask for a bagel! Ask for your sandwich "hard." My inner 15-year-old really wants to like this place just so I can go back and order a hard, wrecked Coltrane. Heh.

Salacious breakfasts aside, I ultimately went with the portobello burger, which is comprised of a meaty portobello mushroom cap dressed with luscious green avocado and a thin layer of tangy goat cheese, sitting atop a vibrant sweet roasted red pepper, dressed in a sweet, tart balsamic vinaigrette, all stuffed in a pillowy brioche roll. At least, that's the way I had it planned out in my mind. It's the sandwich my sometimes-vegetarian foodie self adores: a healthier version of the burger, gussied up with all the classic components of fancy-shmancy dining for a health-conscious urban dweller. I should love this sandwich!

But...I don't. I barely even like it. The portobello mushroom is nice and hearty, but the avocado is absolutely flavorless. The red pepper seems thrown on as an afterthought, especially since it's haphazardly hanging out of the bun. While we're on the subject of the bun: wimpy. It doesn't hold up to the density of the mushroom, or the overabundance of (admittedly yummy) balsamic dressing that is soaking the delicate bread and completely obliterating any taste of goat cheese. It's sloppy mush that could easily be remedied by using a heartier bread, like ciabatta, and not being so stingy with the goat cheese. And for pete's sake, show some restraint with the vinegar.

Accompanying my slippery sandwich are shoestring fries, which is already a big plus in my book, as I am not a fan of the steak fry that the other diners I frequent seem to love (I'm looking at you, Carroll Gardens/St. Clair). The fries still have the skin on, which is just the way I like them, and behold! They are seasoned with what appears to be Old Bay seasoning! Huzzah! I eagerly pop one in my mouth and...nothing. Soggy. Bland. Oily, but not in that good-grease kind of way. I dejectedly sprinkle some salt and pepper onto them and give them a squirt of ketchup to make them passable.

There is also a side salad, with limp but edible greens, and the star of the plate, juicy wedges of tomato, the only part of the meal I ate with gusto. ["Which is rare enough at this time of year in NYC that I am tempted to check Dizzy's out just for the tomatoes. Pathetic, I know." -- ed.]

The Drinks:

Oy, the coffee. A little chalkboard sign beckoned from the counter: TRY OUR PUMPKIN PIE COFFEE! Well, okay, I will! Unfortunately, they're all out, with the exception of a "swallow" that the waitress generously gave me so I could try it. Oh, cruel waitress, why did you not let me hold on to the nutmeg-and-cinnamon-laced ideal in my head! What I got tasted like a dash of pumpkin pie filling mixed with instant coffee and sink water. Still, I wanted to give Dizzy's a fair chance. It was the end of the pot, after all.

Their regular coffee? Horrendous. Like the pumpkin pie coffee, without the pleasure of the hint of pumpkin. I sipped against my better judgment and got lost in thought, conjuring up several other places nearby that have better coffee than this place: Naidre's (their chocolate mint coffee will change your life), Sweet Melissa's Patisserie, Cocoa Bar, Ladybird Bakery, Dunkin Donuts, the bagel place near the Pavilion…hell, even Mickey D's makes better coffee than this place. I was soon greeted with a refill of steaming hot coffee that was still horrible, but at least didn't taste like dirty tap water. To my surprise, I spied two large bags of Barrie House coffee behind the counter. Barrie House makes some wonderful coffee, so I'm pretty sure it was just their complete lack of attention to the cleanliness/brewing. In other words, SKIP THE COFFEE.

The Service:

For the most part, the service was absolutely wonderful. The waitress was super friendly, attentive and accommodating. She had it down to a science: prompt without being pushy, friendly without being obnoxious, and she didn't rush me out the door. The busboy, on the other hand, took my plate while my head was turned. Mind you, my plate still had part of my sandwich and most of my fries left! He didn't even ask if I was done. I turned and caught him mid-snatch, too stunned to say anything. I wasn't going to miss my plate of soggy potatoes and mushy brioche, but jeez, ask before you clear someone's meal! The waitress, on the other hand, encouraged me to loiter with my blessed cup of ice water and my latest Freecycle acquisition, a huge canvas bag filled with magazines. This, dear reader, was the best part of my meal.

The Surroundings:

I wish Dizzy's worked on their food as hard as they work on their kitschy decor. The atmosphere is mellow and relaxed, with a cheery red, yellow, and lime-green color scheme that brightens and expands the cozy space. Jazz plays at a pleasant volume.

But, this being "the finer diner," they couldn't stop at that, no. Jumbo, multicolored lights adorned the vent pipe mounted on the ceiling, and vintage diner signs competed with artsy black-and-white framed prints of what appeared to be farm machinery, which competed with a huge wall clock flanked by framed pictures of kittens. Yes, really. This is what would happen if the diner from Happy Days mated with a truck-stop eatery while watching Terry Gilliam's Brazil. (Side note: am I the only cinephile that doesn't fellate this movie at any given opportunity? Is it really strange that, twelve years after viewing this film for a cinema class, I can't look at a vent pipe or duct without thinking about it? Should I really give it a second chance like my Gilliam-loving friend, Kid A, urged? I NEED YOUR GUIDANCE.)

Miscellany:

They offer soy milk (a rarity in the diner circuit) for their beverages and homemade granola, which they sell by the pound. Rumor has it they will substitute tofu for eggs if you ask nicely. The salt and pepper shakers have huge holes: one shake coated my fries. The ketchup came in a classic red picnic squeeze bottle, which appealed to the nostalgia fiend inside me (nay, inside us all). Their sugar comes in packets, but you won't have to worry about that because you are never going to order their coffee. EVER. They even have the nerve to sell it by the pound. I mean, it's Barrie House, so I'm sure if you want to brew it at home, you'll be fine, but still...no. Just go to Naidre's or Ozzie's or Gorilla Coffee and get some great coffee for about the same price. All of them are located in the surrounding area, and the amazing elixir these beans create is so worth the travel! ["Note: get the beans at Ozzie's on 5th, NOT the brewed verzh. Tastes like ozone." -- ed.]

Dizzy's has a real-deal cappuccino machine, not the 7-11-esque dispenser so many diners have, but I do not trust these people to brew up a shot of espresso. I just don't.

Also, Dizzy's is hiring. Just thought I'd put that out there.

I really wanted to like this place. Dizzy's has all the ingredients that should make it great, but somehow, none of it works. None of the amenities or coziness matter because the food is just plain bad. I'll take my classic diner food done right, thanks. It's a shame; someone took a long time coming up with a fantastic menu full of potential. Someone's asleep at the flat top. And the counter. Those bus boys, on the other hand? Wide awake and ready to snatch your dreary meal out from under your nose.

Dizzy's, there are far finer diners than you. You get a D.

Two Diners Enter, One Diner Leaves: Carroll Gardens vs. The New St. Clair

Carroll Gardens Salonike Diner vs. The NEW St. Clair Restaurant

CG: 155 Smith St. between Bergen and Dean

F/G to Bergen St., B51, B75

SC: 93 Smith St. on the corner of Atlantic

F/G to Bergen St, B75, B63

Reviewed by Jessa

So, shortly after I reviewed the original St. Clair Restaurant, it closed, and I was sad for two reasons: A) my first diner review became irrelevant, and B) I had grown up eating at the place! It was also the place my best friend and I liked to go when we weren't in the mood for the Carroll Gardens Diner, another favorite of ours. Well, I was insanely excited when I saw it reopening as The NEW (!) St. Clair Restaurant.

I was also a little bit apprehensive. Would they have cream cheese thimbles and awesome lemonade? What would the prices be like? Well, one day, my boyfriend Spyderr and I decided to have brunch there. I was impressed by the new, '50s-style menu design and eagerly began to peruse the menu. Oddly, a creepy sense of familiarity set in my brain. At first, it all seemed like coincidence: "Oh! They have crepes, just like Carroll Gardens Diner! And look, there's the Lox Platter, also like Carroll Gardens! And...Philly Cheesesteak...Surprise...just like...Carroll Gardens?" I've been to Carroll Gardens Diner enough times to pretty much know their menu by heart. This was the same exact menu. (The one exception being the aforementioned Cheesesteak Surprise was St. Clair Style, as opposed to Carroll Gardens Style, whatever the hell that means.)

Okay, so the menu's the same, which probably means the owners are the same. But...well, is the quality the same? Does the food actually taste the same?

The Order:

Grilled cheese on rye with tomato, a cup of matzoh ball soup, peppermint tea.

The Food:

Carroll Gardens Diner was my first stop. I decided on the grilled cheese because it is my go-to drunk/tipsy/hungover diner meal. It was good, a standard grilled cheese, a little dry for my taste. The bread was toasted but on the verge of burnt. That being said, they did add a nice amount of tomato, and the cheese was gooey and plentiful.

The matzoh ball soup is a favorite of mine, and while the Carroll Gardens soup isn't tops, it's always there for me. Oddly enough, it wasn't on the menu when I went, but when I asked, they did have it. A few dashes of salt, and I felt warm and cozy, sort of like that old sweater of your ex-boyfriend's that you still wear every once in a while. (Yes, you do.)

St. Clair, I am pleased to report, made me what may be the best straight-up grilled cheese sandwich I have ever had. Perfectly buttery bread, bursting with cheese and juicy tomatoes! It was the perfect mix of crunch and grease. What a joy it was to dip my sandwich in my matzoh ball soup, which was on the menu. Of course, it required a bit of salt, but not quite as much because the cheesy explosion in my mouth had enough salt to keep me satiated. Plus, at St. Clair, they gifted me with two sides: delicious, crunchy half-sour pickles and their tangy, creamy cold slaw, dotted with plump, sweet golden raisins. Free food = love. ["Re: golden raisins -- overruled." -- ed.]

Advantage: St. Clair!

The Drinks:

Carroll Gardens Diner: Peppermint tea: Celestial Seasonings. Hot cup of water. Sugar on the table. Done.

St. Clair Restaurant: see Carroll Gardens Diner.

Advantage: None. It's hot water and a tea bag.

The Service:

At Carroll Gardens, service was not terrible, considering it was a Saturday afternoon. My server was perfectly pleasant, though my order did take a while, especially for something as simple as a grilled cheese.

I did go to St. Clair on a weekday, when the restaurant was not very busy. This would explain the almost creepy attention to detail. No sooner had I finished my amazing sandwich than the plate miraculously disappeared. I barely had time to sip the last of the soup from my spoon before the cup was whisked away. I started to get a bit annoyed. I enjoy personal service and all, but I felt as if the staff was trying to rush me out.

I spent a decent amount of time working in the food service industry. You want to be attentive, not pushy, and definitely not obvious. I felt that both Carroll Gardens and St. Clair needed to work on this. Also, the staff at St. Clair lacked the humor and kitsch that made the old St. Clair such a hoot to go to!

Advantage: Meh, this is a tough one. I'd say Carroll Gardens, just because the servers weren't so eager to get me the hell out of their establishment

The Surroundings:
Think of it this way: Carroll Gardens is the steadfast, matronly sister to St. Clair's fancy-free retro Betty. Carroll Gardens tries to put on an air of sophistication, with hues of raspberry sorbet and seafoam green adorning the walls and booths. Hideous orange fake flowers that look as though they haven't been dusted since they were salvaged from the discount bin at Rag Shop (dis)graced the tables. There are also two jumbo flat screen televisions that are usually tuned to CNN, closed captioned for when you want to zone out on your current conversation and find out more about that crazy ol' stock market. The place is very standard family diner, not very inspirational but clean and not unpleasant. (Except for those flowers. Oy.)

There were a lot of families with plenty of loud, rambunctious kids around. Since I work with kids all day during the week and on some weekends, it can sometimes harsh my mellow if I have to be subjected to screaming kids when I'm off the clock.

St. Clair, on the other hand, is peachy keen, jellybean! She's going to the hop and playing dress up with Mom's vintage clothes. Or at least, that's the image St. Clair is desperately trying to evoke. The restaurant is awash in inoffensive shades of peach, beige, and cerulean. There are artsy oversized prints of diner regalia such as forks and coffee cups, and the menu's layout and font are completely 1950s redux. The customers were mostly young, American Apparel-wearing hipsters writing in their journals, sipping endless cups of coffee. While the time I went is obviously going to be less chaotic than the weekend, I have been there on the weekends once or twice. There are definitely fewer families and more hungover grownups hanging out at St. Clair on the weekend.

They are definitely trying too hard (both St. Clair and its patrons), but I do think it's a cute place, a modern attitude to vintage nostalgia. I do have to say, I miss the Krusty-Krab vibe of old St. Clair. It was so weird that it gave the place a certain uncalculated charm.

Advantage: St. Clair. The only scent wafting from Carroll Gardens's fake flowers is the sour stench of fail.

Miscellany:

Carroll Gardens is open 24/7. St. Clair closes at midnight. For this alone, I have to give an advantage to Carroll Gardens. Everyone knows that grilled cheese sandwiches are best at 4 AM after a night of pub crawling. Duh.

Look, either place is fine, but they definitely aren't equal...or are they? St. Clair just seems to try a little bit harder to please, but I suspect this is because they're trying to woo the old customers back and prove that they're even better than St. Clair the First. I'd like to see how St. Clair fares over the next year or so. Will I still get free pickles? Will their grilled cheese still make my little dairy-lovin' heart sing? Will their staff be a little less overbearing?

Carroll Gardens is tried and true. It's a great place for an easygoing chat session with a friend, and it's still my go-to joint when I'm dishing with my best friend about...well, anything.

When it comes down to it, I have to make my decision based on the food. Diners are all about a good meal, and St. Clair really delivered. If it's not past midnight, I'm heading over to St. Clair...for now.

St. Clair: A-

Carroll Gardens: B+

Diner, Anyone?

I don't mean go to one; I mean buy one. The American Diner Museum site is a nice diversion, particularly if you'd like to fantasize however briefly about owning one of these chrome beauties.

And if you don't know how to cook an egg, but want to ensure that diners don't go the way of the drive-in, contribute to the Diner Rescue Fund.

Review: Juniors

Junior's Restaurant and Bar

386 Flatbush Avenue Extension at DeKalb Ave.

B,M,Q,R to DeKalb Ave.; B54, B38, B26, B25

Reviewed by Jessa

The Order:

Something Different Sandwich (beef brisket and potato pancakes with sides of country gravy and applesauce); bacon cheeseburger with fries; coffee; Coca Cola; cheesecake (duh)

The Food:

I have a confession to make: Throughout all of my 27 years on this earth as a Downtown Brooklyn Resident, I had yet to make a trip to Junior's before this one. All anyone talked about was the cheesecake, and I've never been a fan of the stuff. The one time I did try a slice of Junior's famous cheesecake, at a backyard birthday bash, I took a few perfunctory bites before uttering a curmudgeonly "feh" and downing another vodka shot (which I am sure had nothing to do with my cake experience).

Well, I have been missing out! The Something Different Sandwich turned out to be an outrageous stack of juicy beef brisket, sandwiched between two humongous potato pancake pillows that were crisp on the outside and fluffy on the inside. The country gravy tasted like it came out of some old granny's kitchen, and the chunky applesauce was wonderfully fresh and a perfect complement to the pancakes.

My dining companion Spyderr had similar raves about his bacon cheeseburger and fries. Of course, I simply had to have some (purely for research purposes, I assure you). I am happy to report that I have finally found a perfectly well done burger without sacrificing any juiciness or flavor. The burger was topped with thick, smoky, crispy bacon and good ol' yellow American cheese. The steak fries were crisp and, when salted and dipped in ketchup, the perfect accompaniment to the burger.

We also received a side of crunchy, tangy coleslaw that wasn't swimming in mayonnaise. Rather, there was just a hint of creaminess that allowed the naturally sweet, crisp cabbage to be the star. The pickles that also came with our meal were delectably sour and salty without causing burning, puckered lips.

Considering that we were so full that we had to pack half of our meals to go, Spyderr and I wisely decided to share a slice of strawberry cheesecake. And the cheesecake! Apparently, when I'm sober, Junior's cheesecake is super-tasty! The creamy melt-in-my-mouth filling wasn't gelatinous or too sweet like other cheesecakes I have tried in the past, enhanced by the plump whole berry sauce and streusel crust. In other words: Yum!

The Drinks:

The coffee was hot and delicious, and refills were prompt and plentiful. The half-and-half came in individual thimbles, which made it impossible to overmilk the coffee. I barely needed any sugar, which is the hallmark of good coffee. Spyderr's Coke was cold and bubbly, just as a good Coke should be!

The Service:

The members of the waitstaff were all friendly, from the host who greeted us to the person who refilled our coffee. Our server, the regally named Lenworth, was delightful. He was never pushy or intrusive, yet he magically appeared whenever we needed him.

The Surroundings:

Junior's décor can best be described as casual retro glam. Just being there made me feel a little more glamorous, even in jeans and a smock top. I imagined myself being at Junior's in the evening back when they opened 50 years ago, ordering a Sidecar and wearing a slinky cocktail dress, a rising-starlet sort of dame. Elegant and unfussy, the wood-paneled walls are accented with touches of gold, making the perfect setting for the circular tables covered in white paper tablecloths. The comfortably low lighting didn't compete with the sun streaming through the blinds that decorate the windows. Soothing piano music played, underscoring the Sunday brunch chatter going on around us. I felt relaxed and -- dare I say it? -- hip.

Junior's presentation thrives on simple yet thoughtful touches that accent the surroundings perfectly. Everybody knows that fancy little details make everything taste better! The Something Different Sandwich was held together by a little plastic sword toothpick, which delighted the detail-oriented craft lady in my brain. Spyderr's Coke came in a tall glass with the Junior's logo and guidelines for making the perfect egg cream. Our ketchup and mustard were brought out to us, the mustard actually being Junior's own brand.

Miscellany:

For anyone looking for a delightful lunch spot in the area, look no further! Junior's has a lunch special menu that is available Monday through Saturday. Barbecue aficionados can also partake in a reasonably priced barbecue special menu Monday through Saturday. Take-out and delivery services, a full bakery, and bar (where you can perhaps order a Sidecar of your very own!) are also available. For more information, including the restaurant menu and their vast cheesecake offerings, go to www.juniorscheesecake.com.

Junior's gets an A. Obviously.

Review: St. Clair

St. Clair Restaurant
Smith St., on the corner of Atlantic Avenue
F, G to Bergen St.,; B75
Reviewed by Jessa

The Order:

Feta, tomato and spinach omelet (made with egg whites) with home fries and rye toast, side of turkey bacon, coffee.

The Food:

The omelet wasn't runny, which is just about a miracle when it comes to egg whites. There were plenty of veggies and cheese to appease me, as I hate skimpy omelets. The feta was well distributed, so salting my eggs was kept to a minimum.

The potatoes? Meh. Standard thin-sliced diner style, with nary a pepper or onion in sight. I gave up on those after a few bites.

I did like the rye toast, which was still chewy and plenty buttery, with just enough warmth and crunch. I've never been one for super-crispy toast, but those who are may want to ask for theirs well-done.

As for the turkey bacon, it came to the table with a fair amount of grease on it. I'd pretend to be outraged, but, at a diner, grease equals love. It wasn't slimy or undercooked, which was a huge plus.

The menu was huge, with standard diner fare such as burgers, triple-deckers and the like, and tons of dinner specials.

The Drinks:

Average coffee, fine with a little milk and sugar. I wish I could let you in on their coffee refill habits, but the bright fuchsia old-lady-lipstick stain I noticed on my second sip of coffee put the kibosh on my coffee cravings.

They were very quick to give me more ice water without asking, though, so I'm guessing they would be quick to refill a coffee mug.

The Service:

Full disclosure: in the past, my friend Girl and I had a couple of bad experiences at St. Clair in the past. We would divvy our diner meetings between St. Clair and Salonike. Then, we got this one waitress who was constantly rude while taking our order,

practically throwing our food on the table and then tossing us the check without ever asking if we wanted refills or anything else. When the same waitress was nasty to my friend's child, we stopped going altogether.

This time around, however, said waitress was nowhere in sight, and the service was super-attentive. Despite the busy lunch rush (on a Thursday!), I was approached in rapid succession by three waitresses who gave me ice water, handed me a menu, and took my order, respectively.

My favorite was an older woman, a straight-up sitcom diner waitress. A conversation I had with her on the muggy summer day I went to St. Clair went something like this:

Friendly Waitress (FW): Hot enough for ya?
Me: Seriously. I'd like to kiss the person who created the air conditioner full on the lips!
FW: How about the guy who created work? I sure ain't kissin' him!

ZING! Oh snap! Not exactly a "kiss my grits," but it'll do.

The Surroundings:

Think Brown Derby meets The Krusty Krab. St. Clair has a "bygone era" feel about it. The sign outside has the triumvirate of old-school restaurant attractions: "Steak-Seafood-Chops." Inside, the low lighting and the wooden and red vinyl diner booths were complemented by a long counter with red vinyl swivel stools, where an old man had his melon cut by hand by a cook. The Sanka packets were stacked high, as were the cream cheese thimbles. The wood-paneled walls were covered in fishing nets and nautical accoutrements. And pistols. A second dining room further in had a hunting lodge feel, where men in coonskin caps gather and curmudgeon about "kids these days."

Miscellany:

The ketchup was pourable, people! Pourable! And not watered down! That was enough to make me happy, seriously. Also, can I ask if anyone actually ever orders the cottage cheese and Jell-O combo in the "diet delights" section? Or anything in that section? It's so kitschy, no?

Funny enough, I spotted fishcakes and spaghetti no less than three times on the menu, as well as fishcakes and eggs. Curiouser and curiouser.

St. Clair is definitely for meeting with a friend. It's a bit of a downer to be there alone, since the lighting isn't conducive to reading, my solo-dining activity of choice.

I have to give St. Clair a B+. Clean your glasses properly, people. And if you bring that nasty waitress back, you're downgraded to a C. I'll be watching you, St. Clair.