a slice of life (food page feature)

Published in The Post-Star (D1)

12/28/05

Steve's Place is everything you want a diner to be.

There's the classic old booths with individual jukeboxes, the motherly waitress, and the surly cook; the quiet conversations between locals; the nods of greeting exchanged across the room.

"Coffee, honey?" the waitress asks each new patron. Most of them have been there before, and don't bother looking at a menu. She knows what they want, anyway. Two English muffins, toasted, with apple jelly. Scrambled eggs with home fries and wheat toast. An "early burger."

It's Tuesday morning, two days after Christmas, and nobody has taken down the decorations yet. Big red velvet bows are tied around the hanging light fixtures above each booth, and tinsel and garland is all over the place. Beside the cash register, someone has marked an X across the days counting down to Christmas (although they stopped, inexplicably, on the 19th).

By 9 a.m., most of the 10 booths are filled with a mixture of middle-aged couples, senior citizens, and a few families with kids on school break. Some people are talking about the gifts they received, while others are discussing the stories in the morning paper. Some aren't saying anything at all.

Two young guys -- one with a mullet, one with curls -- take the corner booth. They order a hearty breakfast of eggs, hash browns, bacon, toast, and chocolate milk.

At the counter, an older gentleman sips his coffee and looks mournfully at the newspaper, folded open to the obituaries page. His green fleece jacket is perfectly matched with his green cane, which rests by its curved handle on the green countertop.

When he gets up to leave, his face brightens as he passes the first table.

"I thought you looked familiar," he says to a middle-aged man with a mustache. The man nods and says that he used to work nearby.

They wish each other well, and the older man walks away, leaning on his cane and smiling.

He's soon replaced at the counter by a plump woman with a wrinkled face, dressed in a pink fleece jacket.

"Back in the old routine," she says to the waitress. "Do you have bear claws?"

The waitress shakes her head sadly, and offers alternatives in a coaxing voice.

"How about a cinnamon bun?" she suggests. "Want me to toast one of those for you? Or a blueberry muffin?"

After a long pause, the pink-fleece woman says, "English muffin?"

The waitress relaxes. "OK. What kind of jelly?"

There's no hesitation here: "Red."

Along with some strawberry jelly, the waitress hands her a small, gift-wrapped package. The older woman asks for help to remove the tape. She turns the object over in her hands, peering down at it thoughtfully.

It's a magnetic notepad holder, in the shape of an angel.

Finally she says, "Thank you. That certainly is different; never seen anything like it."

She packs it up again with care, and puts it in her purse. She doesn't smile, exactly, but she seems pleased.

Over in the corner booth, the guys are fiddling with the jukebox. The one with the mullet puts in a few quarters, and they settle on classic rock -- "Put a Candle in the Window," by Creedence Clearwater Revival.

They grin at each other as the music starts playing. It's going to be a good day.

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