Well, looks like there’s another reason not to bother going back to New York. My beloved Cheyenne Diner is finally closing down.
I used to work down the street, and spent many, many happy lunch hours there, enjoying almost perfect platters of grilled cheese with fries. It was also a favorite spot to drag anyone I ever had to meet in Midtown, and not just because I’ll take any excuse to get a decent milkshake.
I can’t say that I’m shocked about the closing. In fact, I’m amazed they resisted the pressure to cash in on that real estate for so long. Still, it’s a shame to see another free-standing classic diner go away, especially one that felt a little like home every time I went inside.
The Cheyenne was the kind of place I have in my mind every time I crave the perfect diner experience, a thing that doesn’t really exist in Boston or the UK, the only two other places I’ve ever lived. It’s not the that food is incredible, but that it’s just right: comforting, tasty, familiar, and not trying to be fancier than necessary. Most of the seats are booths lining the windows that look out on the street, with room to relax for one or two, or room to squeeze in a bigger group of pals. One of the waitresses would proudly show us pictures of her son in his dancing-school costumes, and occasionally give us free slices of cake.
(Tip o’ the hat to Norm for catching this for me.)
All hope is not lost for American cities, though. One of the handful of things I really love in Los Angeles — Phillipe the Original, home of the French Dip sandwich and the 9¢ cup of coffee— is about to celebrate its 100th anniversary.