Tell someone you're road-tripping through Oklahoma, and you'll probably get a polite nod and a "have fun with all that flat land." I get it. The state doesn't exactly have…
I once asked my grandfather how his favorite diner back home got its name, and he just shrugged and said, "Somebody probably lost a bet." I laughed it off at…
I once drove three hours out of my way to see a roadside attraction that turned out to be a single fiberglass dinosaur standing in a gravel lot. I don't…
I have a friend from Staten Island who treats pizza the way some people treat religion. She has opinions about cornmeal dusting. She has a working theory on the correct…
My grandmother used to send my grandfather to "the butcher" the same way other people send someone to the bank. It was a destination, not a quick errand or a…
I’ve learned something about cheap eats: the less a restaurant worries about its parking lot, the better the food usually is. Some of my favorite meals have come from strip…
The test I use for any Mexican restaurant is simple: how does the salsa taste before I've ordered anything? If it's thin, acidic, and clearly from a jar, I adjust…
Over the years, I’ve learned to be wary of dinner reservations that demand more planning than my last vacation. If people are willing to wait months and still show up…
Here's a rule my grandmother strictly abides by about judging pie crusts: if you can't see the layers when you tear it open, it isn't worth eating. She made fried…
I’ve never driven all of Route 66, but I’ve been in love with it for as long as I can remember. That feeling isn’t really about the pavement itself —…
I have a rule about people who say they've found the best burger in whatever city. I don't believe them. Not because I'm cynical — though I am, a little…
My grandparents used to talk about diners the way other people talk about churches. Sacred, they'd say. The kind of place that holds a community together whether anyone admits it…