Really excellent. Something I’ve been thinking about a lot are that most modern restaurants are not true small businesses, they’re the 3rd or 4th outpost of some restaurant group. They’re well branded but there’s no SOUL, no reason, no sense of place. I love the idea of rethinking how our economy works to provide what matters to us.
My wife’s family is full of restauranteurs, and this resonates strongly. The family-run places might not be trendy or optimized to maximize profit or whatever, but who cares? That’s not why the people love them. They love them for the food, sure, but mostly the camaraderie you describe. It’s why families have been going to the same place for generations.
I miss what I call “plastic-tablecloth” cafes, with their all-day egg breakfasts and bottomless cups of coffee. And wait staff who remembered your name whenever you came in.
Worship of Capital has stripped away much of the soul of our society, largely by substituting private spaces for public ones, and commodifying everything. No wonder we’re lonely and depressed -- happiness is always just another purchase away.
These stimulating reflections have a your-community-here universality and sent me clicking, curious to see more of the backstory.
Thanks to a vividly detailed February 2022 post by Brian Huber at Hudson Valley One, I now know that Tony Saccoman, founder of the iconic Kingston spot with his first name, lost an arm in a New Jersey factory accident. "But that didn’t stop him from starting the pizzeria on Broadway when he returned to the area. In the early 1950s, he sold the business to Sparky Greco and opened up Saccoman Jeweler’s, also on Broadway. Greco later sold the pizzeria to his brothers Charlie and Sal. . . . Nealey Farrell and Dylan Kennedy owned the pizzeria for the last decade."
The bar area hasn't changed since the 1930s-40s when her grandfather ran it, Linda Saccoman told the Ulster Publishing news site.
Thanks for an evocative jaunt, Sara, through time and along the Broadways, Main Streets, Front Streets and similar avenues that light the corners of our minds.
Wow, this literally brought tears to my eyes as an old restaurant brat, and especially once I saw Hopper's "Nighthawks," which I was just looking at a few weeks ago, not exactly sure at the time why I couldn't look away. My folks owned a few restaurants over the years, with decor that wasn't always the best, but it had people that were always the best, with some even to this day who talk about our "cookie skillet," or my dad's famous BBQ sauce. Damn, I'm getting emotional just writing this, thinking about how much I hated washing dishes, and cleaning the bathrooms, but how much I loved cooking bacon in the morning, and watering the potted plants first thing, and seeing that small group of old men come in each Tuesday to talk and pray for each other, and helping that one old lady with her very specific instructions for the leftovers, and watching my dad have a steaming cup of coffee in the dining room by himself before we opened. I too hope that we can save the bar and grill, and with posts like this, we may just have a chance.
On the Upper West Side of Manhattan the sort of restaurants you're celebrating are an endangered species. In the space of a few weeks my favorite diner, ristorante, and falafel joint all shuttered. There are more survivors in my midwestern hometown, such as a charming family-owned diner I always make it a point to patronize, but even they're in danger now because a customer has tried to make an instance of somewhat gruff service into a racial issue.
I'd argue against federal subsidies for restaurants, though -- the money would inevitably flow to politically connected restaurateurs rather than those true community pubs and cafes, and probably even help crowd them out.
After watching beloved places close and be replaced with what deceptively looks like a “local,” only to find it is a variation on a theme, a “sister” location of a major conglomerate, I feel the real demise is of the small business owner. Be it chefy or diner, what sets apart the places I love is their onliness, the intimacy in that. While it may be hard to make a profit in a small restaurant, the big machines are doing fine. Our country’s capitalism, long loved as the corner coffee shop, has morphed into a thing eating away at so much of what makes us human.
I live in Cleveland, and just went to our regular bar and grill for dinner last night. There are plenty of the hip places with wine bars and provisions stores around here, too, but I think the bar and grill is faring a little better out here than it is in Brooklyn. Just another thing I love about my city.
You came to my neighborhood spot, Betty, which I adore! But it still is more than $65 for a burger & 2 drinks which kinda makes it spendy to be a regular. I love the idea of a true local. And I have a buddy who is an architect who spent a year driving all across the country and asking people in suburbia “Where is your town center?” And the answers were all pretty sad. We need more come-as-you-are togetherness spaces!!
I love all the sentiment here. In fact, I've been making many of the same points for the past forty years. One thing Ms. Eckel did not account for, however, is the sheer number of restaurants we have today compared to twenty, thirty, or more years ago. With so much empty retail space now available, much of it is being filled by restaurants of all types. Yes, the trend is toward fast-casual, but the local pub is alive and well. In fact, after I'm done writing this, I hope to head down to mine and share a pint of freshly brewed ale with a room full of complete strangers where I usually get into some kind of conversation. If not there, I can also count on my local coffee shop for some lively discourse.
Really excellent. Something I’ve been thinking about a lot are that most modern restaurants are not true small businesses, they’re the 3rd or 4th outpost of some restaurant group. They’re well branded but there’s no SOUL, no reason, no sense of place. I love the idea of rethinking how our economy works to provide what matters to us.
My wife’s family is full of restauranteurs, and this resonates strongly. The family-run places might not be trendy or optimized to maximize profit or whatever, but who cares? That’s not why the people love them. They love them for the food, sure, but mostly the camaraderie you describe. It’s why families have been going to the same place for generations.
I miss what I call “plastic-tablecloth” cafes, with their all-day egg breakfasts and bottomless cups of coffee. And wait staff who remembered your name whenever you came in.
Worship of Capital has stripped away much of the soul of our society, largely by substituting private spaces for public ones, and commodifying everything. No wonder we’re lonely and depressed -- happiness is always just another purchase away.
These stimulating reflections have a your-community-here universality and sent me clicking, curious to see more of the backstory.
Thanks to a vividly detailed February 2022 post by Brian Huber at Hudson Valley One, I now know that Tony Saccoman, founder of the iconic Kingston spot with his first name, lost an arm in a New Jersey factory accident. "But that didn’t stop him from starting the pizzeria on Broadway when he returned to the area. In the early 1950s, he sold the business to Sparky Greco and opened up Saccoman Jeweler’s, also on Broadway. Greco later sold the pizzeria to his brothers Charlie and Sal. . . . Nealey Farrell and Dylan Kennedy owned the pizzeria for the last decade."
The bar area hasn't changed since the 1930s-40s when her grandfather ran it, Linda Saccoman told the Ulster Publishing news site.
Thanks for an evocative jaunt, Sara, through time and along the Broadways, Main Streets, Front Streets and similar avenues that light the corners of our minds.
Wow, this literally brought tears to my eyes as an old restaurant brat, and especially once I saw Hopper's "Nighthawks," which I was just looking at a few weeks ago, not exactly sure at the time why I couldn't look away. My folks owned a few restaurants over the years, with decor that wasn't always the best, but it had people that were always the best, with some even to this day who talk about our "cookie skillet," or my dad's famous BBQ sauce. Damn, I'm getting emotional just writing this, thinking about how much I hated washing dishes, and cleaning the bathrooms, but how much I loved cooking bacon in the morning, and watering the potted plants first thing, and seeing that small group of old men come in each Tuesday to talk and pray for each other, and helping that one old lady with her very specific instructions for the leftovers, and watching my dad have a steaming cup of coffee in the dining room by himself before we opened. I too hope that we can save the bar and grill, and with posts like this, we may just have a chance.
On the Upper West Side of Manhattan the sort of restaurants you're celebrating are an endangered species. In the space of a few weeks my favorite diner, ristorante, and falafel joint all shuttered. There are more survivors in my midwestern hometown, such as a charming family-owned diner I always make it a point to patronize, but even they're in danger now because a customer has tried to make an instance of somewhat gruff service into a racial issue.
I'd argue against federal subsidies for restaurants, though -- the money would inevitably flow to politically connected restaurateurs rather than those true community pubs and cafes, and probably even help crowd them out.
After watching beloved places close and be replaced with what deceptively looks like a “local,” only to find it is a variation on a theme, a “sister” location of a major conglomerate, I feel the real demise is of the small business owner. Be it chefy or diner, what sets apart the places I love is their onliness, the intimacy in that. While it may be hard to make a profit in a small restaurant, the big machines are doing fine. Our country’s capitalism, long loved as the corner coffee shop, has morphed into a thing eating away at so much of what makes us human.
I live in Cleveland, and just went to our regular bar and grill for dinner last night. There are plenty of the hip places with wine bars and provisions stores around here, too, but I think the bar and grill is faring a little better out here than it is in Brooklyn. Just another thing I love about my city.
You came to my neighborhood spot, Betty, which I adore! But it still is more than $65 for a burger & 2 drinks which kinda makes it spendy to be a regular. I love the idea of a true local. And I have a buddy who is an architect who spent a year driving all across the country and asking people in suburbia “Where is your town center?” And the answers were all pretty sad. We need more come-as-you-are togetherness spaces!!
I love all the sentiment here. In fact, I've been making many of the same points for the past forty years. One thing Ms. Eckel did not account for, however, is the sheer number of restaurants we have today compared to twenty, thirty, or more years ago. With so much empty retail space now available, much of it is being filled by restaurants of all types. Yes, the trend is toward fast-casual, but the local pub is alive and well. In fact, after I'm done writing this, I hope to head down to mine and share a pint of freshly brewed ale with a room full of complete strangers where I usually get into some kind of conversation. If not there, I can also count on my local coffee shop for some lively discourse.
OMG, did you hear about Dear Kingston? Abruptly closed today.