4 AM 4 All
A friend once told me, “Smylie, you could be eating anything, doesn’t matter what it is, and you’d be happy.”
She didn’t mean it as a compliment.
Still, there is some truth to that. SOME. I’ll quantify it this way: The act of eating–more specifically, the act of eating with others–is one of those things I cherish, one of those things that makes this crazy mixed-up ol’ world worth living in. Aside from my ability to spot deliciousness on the most questionable menu (the burgers at 24 Hour Diner, though thin, positively melt with flavor in your mouth–much like these sliders on the site), aside from the curious improving effects alcohol and sleeplessness have on virtually any cuisine (“Hey, that place is called 24 Hour Diner! That sounds classy!“), there is something you can find at these greasy spoons you cannot find at, say, The French Laundry.
And that something is solidarity.
We were all united in varying degrees of inebriation, together in hunger, one in our eventual satiety. And when Freebird came on the radio, everyone–from the nerdy kid with the unkempt facial hair to the sweating frat behemoth with a Bears jersey to the bleach-blonde chick in faux-Gucci–swayed their burgers, cups, fries, and sang.
Maybe it’s the Irish in me, but anywhere you can virtually guarantee the patrons will eventually burst into song is my kind of place.
-Jim would still kill for a res at The French Laundry, though, seriously.