It was a “five-layer day” as I stepped cross Appleton St on my way to the Owl. I could feel the cold air sticking my nostrils together. My shoes squeaked as I quickly crossed the street. “Must be about 1˚F.” I thought.
All the parking lot spaces were filled in front of the1940s Worcester Semi-Streamliner diner. The Owl Diner sign no longer does the neon thing; just painted now. An old owl looking down the street.
“Good morning, Jean-Paul.” I say as he walks between the cars from the side street. We entered the under-construction entrance. “Been a while for this work. It should keep the cold wind from the booths.”
Just inside the inner door, warmth and the smell of grill fried potatoes came to us. The counter stools were nearly all occupied but the booths beside the door were not. I remembered how I used to spin on the seats when I was a kid.
“Morning!”, as we walk between the counter stools and booths.
Mostly retired, a handful or more of us get together for our weekly Wednesday AM breakfast. We are a group of photographers from the Lowell Camera Club. Talk of photography, light politics, economy, and whatever. Jean-Paul and I sat down with Ray at a table in the back of the attached dining room.
“Coffee? Any more people coming?” asked the waitress. She poured it black and hot, and left a cup filled with coffee cream containers.
“Yes and Yes. Karl is still in Florida. He’ll be back in a couple of weeks. But Tom will be here in a few minutes.”
Tom arrived with Paul and Joe; no wives today. No menus needed. Old dogs and old tricks.
“What will it be guys?” asked Laura order pad in hand. She really didn’t need it.
“Ham and eggs with toast.”
“Two over easy, wheat toast, and home fries. Jack you can have the potatoes.”
“Oatmeal and strawberries”, said Paul.
“Me too” chimed in Joe.
“Oatmeal.” Jianpaul scrunched up his face at the prospect of oatmeal again. “Do you have the real maple syrup today? No strawberries.“
Watching his face made me change my mind. “Honey buns. No oatmeal today.”
The talk turned to oatmeal with a vengeance. “My mother…”, “It was like a clump of frozen...”, “The doctor said…”
Laura soon brought the oatmeal, milk, and brown sugar for the three guys; other stuff takes a bit longer. No maple syrup today…just the brown sugar. We gave the extra milk to Paul who liked his real soupy…”porridge?”. Then Keri brought the honey buns. Cut in half and quick grilled to toast it and melt the sweet glazing. Live wild and eat a toasted honey bun.
“When we were on the road, we mixed yogurt and uncooked oatmeal together. It didn’t need refrigeration over night because of the acid in the yogurt. Next morning, we would thin the mix with some liquid and add more ingredients for breakfast. Apple juice or orange juice or milk worked well with interesting tastes. Combinations of nuts, raisins, shredded coconut, and wheat germ gave contrasting textures.” The oatmeal softens and absorbs the liquid yogurt. The result is a compact paste. More liquid was needed to loosen it and add flavor. Nuts and raisins added varied textures to the soft creamy; nut crunch and raisin soft. I remembered sitting in campground near the Rio Grande in Big Bend, Texas. A cold wind down out of the peaks to the north. Hot coffee, and the mix with almonds and apricots loosened with warm milk.
“Sounds too healthy to me!”
One bill and the guys each paid their portion. “See you later, guys. See you next week, Laura.” I walked from the dining room past the table with the firemen, and the one with men’s the track team from the college.
I zipped up my layers, put on my knit toque, and gloves. Walked to the door and out into the winter air.
“Travel light and wear a smile”, Jack Holmes
