Homogenized Eats

In our travels while on vacation two weeks ago, I tried to avoid the chain restaurants. It wasn't easy. Though for me it was more fun try to a po' boy sandwich in Savannah or a crab chowder in Hilton Head, once I hit the expressway, it was back to the usual burger joints, pizza places and sandwich shops. Homogenized eats, I say.

I miss seeing the regional menus you might find at a mom and pop diner. Not to mention the cultural or historical ambience of eating in a restaurant that's been a local icon for a half century or more. I found out recently that The Embers in Mt. Pleasant closed after 50 years in business. When at Central Michigan University, our dormitory held a dinner there in honor of the seniors, including myself. "Thanks for the memories," it now says on their sign. Ditto here. Places like this seem to be disappearing fast.

If you stick with the usual fare in Michigan, you might miss the fried chicken at Zehnder's in Frankenmuth, or the unusual deli offerings right here at Zingerman's in Ann Arbor. I've had both. In our travels roundabout the U.S., we've sampled Chicago hot dogs, New England clam chowder in Boston, deep fried pork chops at a buffet in the south and homemade Pennsylvania Dutch scrapple in Lancaster. Mmmmmmmmm, good.

You experience the unusual too. At one out-the-way diner I tracked down, the woman running the place was short of staff, so a fellow diner, a local I presume, helped wait on us. Then there's one of my all-time favorite places--Polly's Pancake Parlor in Sugar Hill, New Hampshire. Featured in numerous articles on regional cuisine, it's a place I've been to twice. It's memorable for a toy horse on the grounds outside, with whom children for decades are obligated to have their pictures taken. That's trot-trot the horse in the picture here.

I got a chuckle out of something that happened at a restaurant down in North Carolina on our return trip home. I had been trying to find a good "southern fried chicken" place but settled for a Bojangles instead. This is a chain fried chicken restaurant, but one I've never visited before. After Wendy and I ordered a lunch, we noticed that the total price was rung up, followed by then a smaller amount which we paid.

We both figured it had to do something with a combo meal discount, but when Wendy checked the receipt at the table, a smile crossed her face. "They gave you a senior citizen discount," she said. What? This would be a first. The first time I had been given a senior discount without my asking for one, or without them asking my age.

Then my wife looked at the receipt further and the smile disappeared. They had given her one too. Her first senior discount. And she didn't even have to ask. NOW, it wasn't funny. Wendy flagged down an employee cleaning tables to ask what the age was for getting such a discount. But the worker didn't speak English. So we let it drop.

Maybe I should start singing her the song, "Silver Threads Among The Gold." Aaaaaa, better not. Our sofa's not that comfortable for sleeping.