The local diner was my best hangout place as a teenager.
Me and my friends often went there after school just to charm our favorite diner server and eat their greasy but extremely delicious food. My food adventures as a teen was limited by my teeny allowance, which I found myself spending on mostly candies and other types of deliciously sinful junk food, and that diner was the answer to my small-time pocket. My favorite food from the menu was the Salisbury steak. It was the juiciest, tastiest steak that always made my afternoon complete. It was a family recipe, they said, which was the reason why they served it differently. It was how the owner had the steak as a boy. They served it with fries instead of mashed potatoes, and they always gave me extra gravy whenever the grumpy owner wasn’t looking. They used to even sneak me a
It was a family recipe, they said, which was the reason why they served it differently. It was how the owner had the steak as a boy. They served it with fries instead of mashed potatoes, and they always gave me extra gravy whenever the grumpy owner wasn’t looking. They used to even sneak me a milkshake to down the sinful food with.
Ah. Good times. The diner wasn’t there anymore, but I still see my favorite servers in the neighborhood whenever I go and visit my parents. They still knew me as the “pig-tailed kid who got the free milkshakes”. I just hope I wasn’t the “pig-tailed kid who caused the diner to close just because she got a lot of free milkshakes”.
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