Last weekend, after more than a handful of tries, I finally dined at Frank's Diner. I couldn't remember if they closed at 1 PM or 2 PM, though I knew if I was later than 30 minutes before closing I wasn't getting a crumb.
I arrived to Frank's at 12:28 hoping they would still let me in. I dashed out of the car to get my toe in the door while my friend parked. My heart leaped with joy when I saw they had a 2 PM closing on Saturday and I was assured a meal.
Frank's is a sardine can of a restaurant. It has received considerable national press, akin to Hot Doug's, Kumas and Schwa, with lots of people wanting what they offer. Like our local legends, it has had to learn how to deal with the crush of demand while serving the food at the level that generated interest. If my first visit is accurate, then they have learned how to balance the factors of demand, good quality food and still have a reasonably cheerful atmosphere on both sides of the counter.
Those waiting for an opportunity to eat, stand behind the people seated at the counter. To your back is a series of windowless windows, once the backwall of the diner, that looks onto an addition with people seated in booths. After lingering a little while, a counter girl hands out menus and a few minutes later takes your order. I have to admit I ordered like it would be a good long while before the stars lined up to allow this opportunity again:
- Hungarian Mushroom Soup
- Homemade cinnamon roll (shared)
- Full order of biscuits and gravy (shared)
- Sausage garbage plate (full portion, already known plenty going home)
They took my name, then advised when I was seated to order my drinks and advise the server to bring my soup and biscuits and gravy. Not very long after, we were seated at the counter near the lady griddle master, which was the best location as far as I was concerned.
My desktop is larger than the griddle at Frank's. The griddle at Patty's Diner is a football field compared to Frank's. I never saw such a small griddle put to such optimal use. Every piece of real estate on that griddle was in use: maybe 12-16 mounds of potatoes reflecting variations of the garbage plate. Like two people in a standard bed, everything had to be flipped and cooked in that small space. When it was time to add the eggs, then they were cracked on top. Only quick, expert tossing of the potatoes, meat and eggs caused them to scramble into one cohesive mass.
The griddle lady was the master of the situation. When she needed more eggs and potatoes from downstairs, then someone flew to get it. Clearly everybody knew this was the heart of the restaurant with nothing to interfere with its productive output. Just to the right of her workspace with picture window was the auto-toaster. I loved watching bread being loaded into it, going through the toasting chamber and dropping down a shute to stay warm waiting for the next order. Nothing stayed in that toaster's warm vault for very long. I cannot emphasize enough how much this place was hopping.
Once we were seated, we dutifully placed our drink order and reminded the server we had soup and biscuits and gravy coming. She took our name, found our ticket and it joined the cue by the griddle master. I was very glad the excellent Hungarian mushroom soup came first, because it was savored to the very last drop. They were out of oyster crackers substituting toasted homemade bread, which normally was a 75 cent upcharge.
Their homemade cinnamon bun arrived next with a confectioner's sugar-butter glaze on the side to adjust to your tastes. We kept promising this was too good to eat all at once, we may spoil meal if we eat too much, then whittled the bun away to nothing. So much for promises made to oneself or your best friend.
The biscuits and gravy arrived with two plates to allow us to comfortably share. The biscuits might meet Jim in Logan Square's specification, though the gravy with a heavy dose of pepper might pass muster. There were big chunks of sausage in a cream sauce that did not come from a packet. Again, it was another food item we promised not to eat too much of, then it disapeered before our very eyes. How does this happen?
Once the garbage plates with mounds of potates, sausage and their five eggs arrived, I knew this was one dish I would not conquer. I ate about a third before deciding there can be too much of a good thing.
I want to bring the Moms here someday, though they no longer can stand for lengthy periods of time. I was told if I had a party of 5 or more, then I can call ahead for reservations. Otherwise I would keep them comfortably seated in the car, while I do the waiting and ordering. Either way I know they will just love this place.
When you do go, be sure to read the menu in detail because there is a lot of idiosyncratic advice and information packed in there. My favorite:
Quote:
Be Nice or Leave
We work extremely hard to serve as many people as possible. However, we cannot make your food cook more quickly or make the people waiting before you go away.
If we are crowded and you are short on time, we suggest you join us another day.
Thank you for your patience.
We were present when the griddle master asked the front door be locked, which is customary 30 minutes before posted closing time. The staff was thrilled they could now see the light at the end of the tunnel. Can't blame them because their work day is one of the most intense I have witnessed.
Regards,
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Because the Garbage Plate is a Rochester NY invented Food..and it consists of either 2 cheeseburgers or hot dogs on top of a mound of home fries and mac. salad and baked beans..with mustard and onions on top and a meat hot sauce smothered all over it...made FAMOUS by Nick Tahoes..and if you just google "the garbage Plate" you can see for your self. It's even in the wikipedia. Oh and here is the website of nick tahoes... 
It was feature on the food networks Tv show called "Unwrapped" hosted by Mark Summers. 