The Diner: New Jersey's Saving Grace

Ok, ok, the title of this post is a little harsh. Dating a New Jerseyan (ite?) has made me warm up to the nation's so-called "armpit"; I'll give it credit where credit is due: Good tomatoes, gleaming malls, some great restaurants, Montclair.  But perhaps New Jersey's greatest treasure is the diner.

I grew up in a place where "diner" meant grimy plastic booths, aging waitresses, and greasy eggs.  Where the patrons were either truck drivers or senior citizens.  Where you ate if you didn't mind a film of stale cigarette smoke coating your utensils and coffee cup.  It would never cross my mind to eat anything other than breakfast at a diner, and even then, a fast food joint might seem more attractive an option.

So when I was first introduced to a New Jersey diner, my jaw nearly dropped to the floor; I felt like a little kid who just discovered the fallacy behind the shopping mall Santa. The diner has more manifestations than the one I had always known.

Gus took me to Six Brothers Diner a couple years ago, and I can still remember the awe I felt as I stepped inside it's enormous, shiny interior.  In fact, everything in it was enormous and shiny.  An endless menu; two-person portions meant for one; glossy booths; gleaming countertops.  Everything felt new and alive.  Customers of all ages crowded around tables, gregariously devouring their meals.  The service was friendly and efficient. My eyes nearly bugged out of my head when I learned there was a bar.  But what truly struck me was the quality of the food.  It was actually really, really good.  My chicken souvlaki wrap was perfectly prepared: the grilled chicken was hot and tender, the sauce well-seasoned.

How I had been kept in the dark all of these years, I'm not so sure.  Sure, I had seen a few episodes of Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives, but I figured those places were few and far between, and only in random locations in the Midwest or California.  Little did I know Guy Fieri visited one just an hour from my house in the Poconos.

Yup, it's motto is "Eat Heavy"

 Yes, Guy visited Tick Tock Diner, located off Route 3 in Clifton, as part of his New Jersey Diner Tour (Warning: the site has obnoxious music).  You can watch the clip on Tick Tock's site, bottom right-hand corner, and what you see may surprise you. The executive chef is British, and in addition to grilled cheese and matzoh ball soup, he serves dishes you'd expect to find in classy restaurants.  Perhaps the secret to Tick Tock's success is that it's seasoned but open to change, so long as it suits customer tastes: According to its site, Tick Tock first opened in 1948, but has since expanded its menu with offerings "accented with Italian, Greek and Tex-Mex influences." (It also opened a location in midtown Manhattan in 1997.)

Gus and I made a late night trip to Tick Tock a couple weekends ago, and I was completely taken by this place.  At 10PM it was humming with high school students, solo diners, young couples, old couples.  The bartender, a man in his late 50s decked out in a vest and lightly tinted sunglasses, was completely in his element, churning out fancy cocktails like he was dealing tables in Vegas. It felt like I stepped off the quiet suburban streets onto another planet. 

This photo was taken by Gus on a different visit; I did not have a chance to try those cheese fries! But the regular ones were great.

Despite the array of choice, we stuck to an American classic: a tuna melt (to share, thank god, because I would have eaten the entire thing). And it was comfort food at its best. The tuna melt is presented sort of like an Americanized tartine, though it's probably blasphemous to make such a comparison: It's served open-faced on two pieces of perfectly toasted rye bread, a mound of tender, moist tuna salad and a slice of sweet tomato enveloped by melted muenster cheese on each slice.  Naturally, we washed down our meal with a chocolate shake, one straw, 1950s style.  My stomach may have disagreed with me the next morning, but it was well worth it.

Perhaps part of my love for the New Jersey diner stems from a pseudo nostalgia: I would have loved a diner like this growing up, a place to meet up with friends and order practically anything at any hour.  I realize my enthusiasm and awe may strike some as a bit odd - especially coming from someone who now lives in the hub of the foodworld.  But the diner has a special place in my heart.  And if you're ever visiting or passing through New Jersey, you should treat yourself.  Give New Jersey a chance to redeem itself. And if you're already there; well, I'm just preaching to the choir.