Not officially, of course.  But servers at restaurants often labor under more rules than a slaughterhouse worker. Well, definitely more than a slaughterhouse worker actually follows.

I mention this because of Bruce Buschel’s latest post on his delightful Start-Up Chronicle blog for The New York Times. (If you haven’t read his posts yet on starting up a seafood restaurant, do yourself the favor, particularly this self-deprecating masterstroke.) In his latest post, Buschel lists 50 of the 100 things that restaurant staffers should never do. It’s a tough list, and I’m not offended by it for one simple reason: He’s the boss. He can make his employees do whatever he wants.

Some of the don’ts on Buschel’s list:

Read More “Servers May Be the Most Regulated Workers in the Country” »

A view of Cap City Diner from across the street

If the tone of Matt Ashburn’s e-mails indicates anything, the Capital City Diner owner sounds a lot calmer than he was back in August when he and business partner, Patrick Carl, were battling with Washington Gas over the installation of a new line.

Ashburn has been updating Y&H on the progress of the classic 1940s-era  diner, which the partners moved from upstate New York to a spot at 1050 Bladensburg Road NE in Trinidad. Ashburn says that Carl decided to quit his day job to help facilitate construction on the project.

Writes Ashburn:

Read More “Capital City Diner May Finally Open Next Month” »

When Y&H last chatted with Capital City Diner co-owner Matt Ashburn, he was trying to convince Washington Gas to waive the $5,600 “contribution” fee that the utility was requesting to lay a new pipe from the gas main to the forthcoming restaurant at 1050 Bladensburg Rd NE in Trinidad.

Ashburn’s argument for waiving the fee is based on some wonky policy and legal matters — not to mention promises that Ashburn felt that WashGas made to Cap City — none of which I will attempt to explain here in detail. The bottom line, however, is this: WashGas isn’t budging. The utility wants it money.

Read More “Woes Continue for Cap City Diner’s Owners” »

On Monday, Y&H reported that Capital City Diner couldn’t even get Washington Gas to return a phone call. Today, e-mails co-owner Matt Ashburn, the gas company told Cap City that it will cost more than $5,600 to install an underground pipe from the main line to the diner in Trinidad. That’s cash that Ashburn and his business partner, Patrick Carl, don’t have.

“The odd thing is,” Ashburn writes to Y&H this afternoon, “they’re wanting to install a new buried gas line
underground from the main (in street) to the building. However, there already exists a gas pipe on the property, capped off from the house that was there years ago. It’s just as old as the other active pipes in the area, so I’m not sure why they don’t consider it, or even see it on their plans.”

Read More “The Latest on Capital City Diner’s Gas Crisis” »

If the owners of Capital City Diner had to endure several painful crash-course lessons back in May as they moved their diner to D.C., the partners are now just playing the standard waiting game as the Department of Consumer and Regulatory Affairs reviews their restaurant plans. Most of the DCRA comments are in, says co-owner Matt Ashburn, and so far the biggest change comes from the folks in plumbing, who want Cap City to add two handicapped-accessible bathrooms.

The only problem with that, Ashburn figures, is that the vintage 1940s-era diner has only about 560 square feet — total. The two bathrooms would take up about 70 square feet alone. “That’s a large chunk of our restaurant, and we can’t do that,” Ashburn says.

So he and business partner Patrick Carl are working with their architect to graft a small addition onto the diner that will not detract from its classic, streamlined dining car design. “We’re adamant about keeping the original feel of the diner,” Ashburn says.

Read More “Capital City Diner Hopes to Open for Service in September” »

Giaimo and Von Hengst opened the first Silver Diner in 1989

Bob Giaimo doesn’t come right out and contradict my assertion that classic diners are recession-proof, but he believes those diners that cling to a greasy nostalgia, at the expense of innovation, are bound to lose customers, plain and simple. Giaimo should know. He’s the founder and president/CEO of Silver Diner, Inc., the Rockville-based corporation that owns the majority of 19 restaurants in three states.

Now hold on. I know what you’re thinking. Corporations and diners are the vinegar and oil of the hospitality industry. Diners are supposed to amuse us (if not abuse us), comfort us, stuff us, and serve us that third cup of mud even if we don’t ask for it (and don’t want it). Corporations are supposed to make money. A corporate diner is like a corporate dive bar or a corporate barbecue shack; few will trust the executives atop the company hierarchy to think of anything but the bottom line. (Even with a chain like Silver Diner, which employs “operating partners,” who live within five miles of their particular location and own about seven percent of it.)

Giaimo clearly has his eye on sales when he talks about the Silver Diner’s future, particularly its aging hub in Rockville, which will move to a spacious new spot on the Pike next year. But just as clear is Giaimo’s affection for the classic diner, both its neon-and-chrome aesthetics and its grease-drenched menu. He’s not looking to kill off those features; he just wants to augment them.

Read More “Silver Diner to Relocate Its Rockville Location, Revamp the Menu” »

The Waffle Shop, which occupies a strange, triangular peninsula of cement, like Alexandria’s own tiny Flatiron Building, is one of the city’s few 24 hours a day/7 days a week operations. A few years back, the Alexandria Gazette Packet wrote a story about the owners losing every set of keys to the place but never bothering to replace them since the business never, ever closes. At all hours you can look through large picture windows and see a gritty, grease-spattered Edward Hopper scene: construction workers, bus drivers, and other folks sitting at the grungy, counter scarfing down food out of Styrofoam containers. The secret to the Waffle Shop’s success? Clarified butter. Turns out, it’s not just for steamed lobster. There’s a big vat of melted, translucent fat sitting on the counter, ready to be ladled onto thin, crispy waffles as the cook pulls them out of the old-fashioned industrial iron. It may sound horrifying, but the melted butter concept is genius. A pat of butter may leave a delicious pool in the center of a waffle, but it never extends to the crusty outer edges. The Waffle Shop method allows butter to soak into every one of the waffle’s, and eventually your, pores. Accompaniments include fat, finger-like links of beef sausage or nice fatty bacon too weighed down with lard to crisp up much. You can also order something else entirely—chicken, sandwiches—but why would you? The place is called the Waffle Shop, after all. Actually, thanks to a typo on the green awning out front, it’s called the “Wafle Shop.” Locals pronounce the misspelled name phonetically, calling the place the “Way-full” shop, which is more fitting than the place’s real name.

Bob & Edith’s offers, depending on how you count them, five or six different steak-and-egg combinations, in addition to breakfast platters that include turkey, bologna, and half-smokes. Such a wealth of wacky options allows you to never order the same thing twice, but it’s really designed to let you order the same dish forever. (I like the gravy-splattered country-fried steak and eggs.) The magic of cholesterol is such, though, that it’s harder to explain the autographed Cowboys poster on the wall than to find a clunker on the menu—the sausage is superb, as is the toast and what might be the best pancakes I’ve ever tasted. And the griddled burger—get it with mayo—will necessitate some fine-tuning of your qualms about the industrial food chain. Across Columbia Pike, a crane looms over some new development, a not-so-gentle reminder that de-skeezing Columbia Pike is next on Arlington’s to-do list. That process that may have slowed down thanks to the crappy economy, but you have to wonder what its inevitability means for Bob & Edith’s. Not that the restaurant could feasibly be moved without Superfund involvement–40 years of serving up grease may have cemented the diner in place, physically as well as in the plaque-clogged hearts of late-night carousers soaking up the poison, the post-Mass crowd catching up with friends, or the guy sitting alone at a booth, reading the paper and drinking an ever-refilled cup of joe.

The Diner is fine. In fact, everything at the Diner is so fine that I imagine the restaurant was dreamed up somewhere in Northern Finland by a mad scientist bent on creating food that elicits neither complaint nor praise, food that will absolutely satisfy you but to which you’ll never have to give a moment’s thought once you’ve ordered it. Here’s a rundown on some of the menu items. Burgers: fine. Chicken cheese steak: fine. Veggie burger: fine, if a little crumbly. Kids’ chicken strips and fries: fine. Kids’ hot dog: Better than fine, but not as good as Five Guys’. Milkshakes: fine. Omelets: fine. Croque Madam, Croque Monsieur, and Croque and Dagger: fine, fine, and fine. Various grilled cheeses: fine, especially the Plymouth Rock. Pies: fine. Blackened Tuna Sandwich: I get this 4 times out of 5, and I can’t think of a single thing to say about it. Coffee and ice tea: both fine. I’ve eaten more at Diner than anywhere else in D.C., probably because when it comes to choosing where to eat, it’s hard to argue about food that’s this consistently OK. Not fine: The room’s boomy, so if they decide to play, say, some Zeppelin, that plus the patrons’ collective roar means you’ll be asking your tablemates to repeat every other freaking word. And sometimes you have to wait awhile to be seated. But really, in the aggregate, that’s fine.

As far as color scheme goes, Arlington’s Metro 29 Diner delivers everything I want out of a primo diner experience: chrome, turquoise blue, and a smattering of magenta. In matters of cuisine, the eatery on, yes, Route 29 (just east of Glebe Road) is just as satisfying, with one of those endless menus where you’re somehow glad you’ll always have the option to order broiled baby beef liver with choice of onions or bacon, even though you always order the tuna melt. (Or the matzo ball soup. Or the souvlaki. Or the spinach pie. Or pretty much anything Greek at this Greek-owned operation.) What Metro 29 thankfully lacks is an overdose of ‘50s nostalgia. No Paul Anka–packed jukebox, just decent eats in clean environs surrounded by a big parking lot at prices not quite as low and at hours not quite as long as you’ll get at Bob and Edith’s.