Dateline: Barbados, 1988 –
Judging from when the interwebz place Hurricane Gilbert, I’d say it was likely about September 6th or 7th of that year that I found myself a guest at the table of a place not far from an odd compound of a resort on Crane Beach. So, St. Philip Parish, if you’re familiar. We had to take a taxi to the restaurant but it wasn’t far… I couldn’t tell you what was on the menu but that cup of coffee still makes me misty.
Dark as the night around the cane fields out there and I can still smell it… Jamaican Blue Mountain the waiter said and I believe they must have been real Blue Mountain beans back then… you could float a skiff on the aroma alone and when I poured the evaporated milk the waiter brought when we asked for cream… it made a sound not unlike the way oil drains out of your oil pan when you’ve let that Jiffy Lube reminder sit on the kitchen counter a couple’a 10 or 20,000 miles too long… “plop” and then it was gone as in desaparecido.
That cup of coffee swallowed the milk up like the whale took Jonah… and I didn’t miss it for a minute… not a bitter note... just pure perfection. I believe I heard angels begin a chorus of “LAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH…” or maybe it’s Ri-Ri doing another round of Stay… hey, it was my perfect goddamned cup of coffee, I’ll insert my own goddamned angelic choir…
If I let myself, thinking about it can just about make me cry…
Ok? You’ve had that cup of coffee somewhere in your life, right?
Yeah. This was not that.
This was another flipping awful cup of coffee topped with an awful plate of VERY. SIMPLE. FOOD. that was too expensive by half if I’d paid for it with YOUR money and it was just another one of those things I canNOT figure out how this town manages to suck at so hard.
Am I to tell you the name of the place I was trying to get some breakfast in about 11:30 this morning after a hard hour and a half of Sharp Shoppering at the Middletown store? Well? Am I? You want to know what Highspire eatery with the parking lot that's always packed gets away with calling the watery stuff that still manages to taste burnt “coffee”? I was trying to find a place to eat on that side of town that doesn’t suck. This wasn’t it.
But I’m not telling you what it is…
INSTEAD:
I’m gonna tell you about the one shining light I HAVE located in this cowtown and it isn’t on the south end of this north-bound town... it’s
American Dream Diner
1933 Herr St.
Harrisburg, PA 17103
Open pretty standard hours and I think they only take cash despite that Mastercard /Visa sticker on the door which ought not be a problem because two of you will get out of here under 15 bucks and that includes a tip and for the love of all that’s holy, tip the woman!
She’s killing herself for you.
Also, pay no nevermind to the window only slightly marred by that .32 hole… it’s across the street from the State Cop’s garage... it might’a just been a stray, yano…
Yelp will tell you all about how to get there (it's right up Herr St. off Cameron up where Arsenal Ys off from it... heading away from town it's just before the Harrisburg East cemetery on the right. So if you get to the cemetery, you passed it) and show you it’s not just me telling you… this is an honest-to-dog diner with my kind of people in it:
People who are happy because they got to start their day with a cup of coffee that wasn’t swill.
When you walk in a stranger, you don’t get the Harrisburg stare followed by the look up and down and then the blank face that goes back to whatever they were staring at before they were staring at you… Jagoffs.
Not in this place. The true democratic nature of the town hall moved to this shiny aluminum car where you can get a pretty great breakfast and news of the day about any time of day and they have BISCUITS, people... and GRITS! Perfectly fine ones, I’m telling you. Eggs that come out the way you asked for them. Sandwiches and melts, platters and pie and all of it good and some of it really good.
In MOOVILLE!!
I wouldn’ta believed it if I hadn’t seen it and I saw it with mine own eyes. The Man In My House pronounced it: “The only way this food would taste any better is with a hangover.”
Is there hope for this burg? Well, let’s not get carried away.
So, then, what’s the best goddamned cup of coffee YOU ever had, hm?
Next up: Another Bad Food Store.
