Jersey City + White Mana Diner

This past weekend I decided that I would finally make the trek to Jersey City to see the White Mana Diner. The diner is a relic from the 1939 World's Fair, and I've known about it ever since I moved to New York and became obsessed with all things related to the two New York fairs. Add in the fact that it's a diner, and I have no excuse why it's taken me so long to pay it a visit.

This was my second time in Jersey City—both times I took the PATH train to Journal Square, which takes almost no time at all from the World Trade Center transit hub. Away from the waterfront, Jersey City is a little rundown, a little suburban and filled with interesting things. I guess I hadn't really realized that the diner was so close to the PATH train, but it was only about a twenty minute walk (I kept passing things tagged with "Noodles" which is officially my favorite tag).

The White Mana Diner is a tiny, circular diner that was marketed as the "Diner of the Future" during the World's Fair. This is usually the part of the post where I tell you the history and post loads of photos, but although I did go inside of the diner, I don't have many photos—in fact, I took zero photos inside even though the diner was theentire pointof my day. Here's why: I actually struggle a lot with taking photos in front of people, as silly as that might sound. I was so pumped to see (and eat at) the diner, and I even tried to strengthen my resolve on my walk, telling myself that I wouldn't be shy and that I'd get my photos.

But then, I walked into the diner and it's tiny and filled with locals. A man immediately turns to me, pats the stool next to him, and invites me to sit down, which I do. He starts talking to me—about astrology, World War II,  my nationality, Trump, Melania—and didn't stop the entire time I was there. I've definitely grown leaps and bounds in the past few years to the point where I can actually talk to strangers without wanting to die, but I still can't bring myself to whip out my camera and start shooting while all eyes are on me.

I beat myself up about it the entire walk back, feeling so dumb that I let my insecurities rule, but I have to remember that a few years ago just the idea of going to the diner alone would have been too much for me to handle. I have to constantly remind myself that the only photos I regret are the ones I don't take, that virtually no one really cares if I'm taking photos or thinks I look dumb doing so (except me), and that ordering one cheeseburger at a place famous for their sliders is a total amateur move.

Best of 2016: Diners

Goodfellas Diner

The Goodfellas Diner was in the news recently when two men tried to leave without paying their bill and ended up assaulting the two elderly owners. This horrible news came shortly after I finally watched Goodfellas for the first time and had pledged to return to the diner. Hearing that the assault might force the owners into retirement made a return to the diner my top priority, and we made it back in November. I'm so relieved that it's still open, and hope that the owners are able to make a full recovery because in a city of wonderful diners, the Goodfellas (formerly the Clinton Diner) really blew me away. The interior and exterior is beyond iconic, and they have some of the best interior signage I've seen. The diner is located in Maspeth, Queens, which is a bit of a haul (and public transit options are limited), but a diner as good as the Goodfellas is worth the trip.

Clover Grill

The Clover Grill was our first stop on a weekend trip to New Orleans and it was a perfect introduction to an incredible city. Their claim on the "world's best hamburgers" might be dubious, but it was a very good burger. The service was Southern hospitality at its best and the signage, pink walls and punny menus made me wish I lived close enough to become a regular.

Lake Effect

I'm so glad we made it to the Lake Effect diner on our way out of Buffalo, even if Buffalo wasn't its original location. The pancake platter was enormous, the service was friendly and the omelette was definitely a step above normal diner quality. The faded pink and blue color scheme was dreamy, and I'd go back in a heartbeat just to sit in a padded, wraparound corner booth.

Kane's Diner

I had been charmed by Kane's hyperbolic signage (***** High Class Steak & Shrimp) nearly two years before I actually ate there, but the inside is a wood-paneled, classic diner dream. During my visit in May, I mused about the awesome possibility of adding a woman's portrait to the Presidential placemat, which is still, depressingly, not a reality.

Floridian Diner

All of the diners on this list have some variation of classic diner decor—it feels like the 1940s at Clover Grill, the 1950s at the Goodfellas, the 1960s at the Lake Effect and the 1970s at Kane's—and the Floridian's 80s-style Miami Vice decor had us instantly feeling like the Golden Girls. The Floridian is covered in mirrors and teal vinyl booths; the servers are straight out of Central Casting; a manager was adding up receipts on an ancient, beige adding machine and our waitress didn't believe us when we said we lived in Brooklyn. The Floridian is actually located on Flatbush Avenue, the street I live on—just under 6 miles but more than three decades away.

Muffler Man: Mr. Bill's, Uniroyal Gal: Nitro Girl

After exploring the Clara Glen Pet Cemetery on our way back from Atlantic City, we stopped at Mr. Bill's for dinner. I had taken my mom to AC for her birthday, and because she's the coolest, she was totally ok with eating her birthday dinner at a roadside diner which I picked only because they have a Muffler Man.

This was the tenth Muffler Man I've seen, and my second of the "happy half-wit" variety. I met my first half-wit at the Magic Forest, but aside from sharing the same basic mold, they are both styled quite differently. Mr. Bill's Muffler Man has been newly painted, although I do think some of the coloring is a bit off—the face is a bit too white and the lip color a touch too harsh but the wide variety of customizations is what makes all the Muffler Men so fun to find.

Mr. Bill's had been closed for a while, but recently reopened under new ownership. I'm so glad that the new owners are taking care of their half-wit, and even without the Muffler Man, it would be a worthy stop. I had a fried chili dog which was delicious, and if anyone ever asks if you'd like your hot dog "fried or raw" just trust me and know that fried is the correct answer.

A few minutes after we left Mr. Bills, my mom looked back and said "Hey that looks like a female Muffler Man." I immediately turned the car around and realized that she had spotted a Uniroyal Gal. According to Roadside America, there are only ten known Uniroyal Gals remaining, making them much more rare than their male counterparts. They were made by an International Fiberglass sculptor who apparently had a thing for Jackie Kennedy. "Nitro Girl" stands outside of a Uniroyal Tire dealership in Gloucester Township, New Jersey and I couldn't believe our luck that our Google directions took us right past her. Thankfully my mom was being vigilant, and it was an amazing find especially for someone who had just seen her very first Muffler Man minutes before.

Cleveland: Diner on 55th

Before a day spent creeping on abandoned places around Northeast Ohio (ending with the spectacular Rubber Bowl), JMP and I knew a proper diner breakfast was the only option. She scouted out a few diners around the Cleveland area, and after a false start at one that turned out to be a catering company, we ended up at the Diner on 55th. The diner is named after where it's located: on East 55th and St. Clair, just east of downtown Cleveland.

Although it looks straight out of the 1950s, the diner—from a pre-fab diner company and built in three pieces so it can be reassembled anywhere—is relatively new. The owner, a proper Greek, diner-lover named Dmetrios Anagnostos, came out of retirement and opened the Diner on 55th in 2001 after visiting a diner in Georgia and deciding that maybe he wasn't done with the Cleveland restaurant scene after all.

Seated at a table next to us was who I can only assume to be Anagnostos himself. Noticing my very conspicuous camera, he asked where we were from. When I told him I lived in New York, he talked fondly of the diners here and mentioned that New Jersey is also a bit of a diner goldmine. He was friendly and warm, and his love of diners was so obvious that I loved him (and his diner) immediately.

The inside of the diner is a veritable shrine to Coca-Cola, with a red-and-white color scheme to match. Even though the decor (and even the dining car itself) falls into the category of diner I like to call "faux retro," the service and food really made the visit memorable. My breakfast sandwich was incredible, my grits were the best I've had north of the Mason-Dixon line, and despite the very busy day that followed, I wasn't hungry until dinner time.

Kane's Diner

Before creeping on abandoned buildings in Fort Totten, I knew I wanted to get breakfast at a new (to me) diner. It doesn't really matter what is on my agenda for any given day—diner breakfast is always the preferred starting point. Usually I'll pick an adventure destination and work backward to a diner from there, but sometimes I do the opposite. Since I knew I needed to catch a bus to Fort Totten from Flushing, I concentrated my diner search there.

Kane's had been on my radar for a while, ever since my dude and I walked by it on our first date more than a year-and-a-half ago. It was cold and snowy, but we took a walk through Flushing Meadows Corona Park on our way to eat dumplings in Flushing, and passed by Kane's. I was immediately enamored with their "High Class Steak & Shrimp" sign, and intrigued by their claim on having "Queens' Best 24-hr Breakfast" and "World Famous Steak & 3 Eggs".

When I finally made it inside a few weeks ago, it more than exceeded all of my diner expectations. I was actually bummed that I was dining alone (not a usual feeling for me) simply because the place was so wonderful that I felt the need to share its beauty and my excitement with someone else. I settled for surreptitiously taking tons of photos with my new (and very conspicuous) camera lens, and being extra nice to the waitstaff, all of whom were equally nice back to me.

Kane's opened in 1970 and has been owned by the same family ever since. Their menu is an absolute masterpiece, and I barely got time to take in the glorious scrapbook/tabloid nature of the entire (enormous) thing before they took my order. I had a ham and swiss omelette with an industrial-size English muffin and a Coke, which was all very good. They also have Cholula hot sauce as part of their classic diner-table-condiment grouping, which is definitely the best hot sauce and just GTFO right now if you prefer Tabasco.

The décor certainly looks as if nothing has changed since they opened in 1970, and by that I mean it's absolutely perfect. The Floridian Diner is stuck in the 80s and the Goodfellas in the 60s, so I'm thrilled to be able to add a bonafide 70s diner to my repertoire. Everything is covered in curving, dark wood paneling and I may never have seen so many shades of brown and tan in one space before. The tiled backsplash, decorative glass lampshades and even the hanging plants all look like they haven't been updated in their 40+ years in business, and I don't think they ever should be. The Presidential placemats, however, were up-to-date but soon won't be—I couldn't help but think how cool it would (will) be to see a woman added to that list when I return.

Floridian Diner

I'm frequently bemoaning the loss of the city diner—two of the six last standalone diners in Manhattan have closed/been razed in the three years I've lived here—but I manage to keep finding new-to-me diners that are complete gems. My newest obsession is the Floridian Diner, located on Flatbush Avenue in the Marine Park / Mill Basin area of Brooklyn. The funny thing is that I also live on Flatbush—6.2 miles northeast and what feels like a world away.

The Floridian Diner is almost two miles from the nearest subway station, so it feels like a place for locals (like the Goodfellas Diner). Everyone was very pleasant, but our waitress didn't quite know what to make of three people who immediately started taking a million pictures as soon as we sat down. I told her that we just really loved diners, but I don't think she believed us when we said we lived in Brooklyn.

Vintage diners tend to skew more 50s/60s in their decor, but the Floridian has a late 70s, early 80s, Golden Girls feel to it that feels different, yet works perfectly with the classic diner aesthetic. Everything is padded in teal vinyl and the dishes are rimmed in the perfect shade of salmon pink, marked with a palm tree. There were COMPACT DISC jukeboxes on every table (ours worked), and all the mirrors and planters made me feel as if we were eating in some strange version of an 80s mall.

The portions we received were huge—my egg sandwich came with four slices of thick ham and the sauces that came with the Floridian Finger Platter were comically large (that bowl of marinara was for two mozzarella sticks). Of course nothing in our diner dining future will ever compare with the moment that we discovered that the Floridian has a filet and lobster combo called"Beef & Reef," with which it solidly cemented itself as one of my very favorite New York diners.

New Orleans: Clover Grill

Last weekend I accompanied six wonderful women to New Orleans to celebrate our friend Francesca's upcoming birthday. For months before we left, we rounded up tons of recommendations and made a Google map that contained far more bars, restaurants, shops, historic homes and cemeteries than we could see in three days. We did, however, manage to make quite a dent, starting with Clover Grill.

After checking in to our hotel (the brand-new and always-lovely Ace) we were ready for lunch and decided upon the Clover Grill. Clover Grill has been open 24 hours on Bourbon Street since 1934. It's tiny, and very pink inside with a row of counter stools and a few tables. I love all of the handpainted signage and the front window, which showcases diner diners in a very Edward Hopper-esque way, especially at night.

The menu is filled with puns and commentary such as "If you are not served in 5 minutes, relax, it may be another 5. This is not New York City." As any respectable diner should, they have 24-hour breakfast, but I ordered one of the "world famous" burgers and was not disappointed. I am generally wary of diner meats (bacon excluded) but I'm not exaggerating when I say this was one of the best burgers I've had, period. The burgers are steamed on the grill under a hubcab and topped with a slice of cheese almost as thick as the burger itself.

Our server was really helpful, nice and funny and I lost track of how many times I commented that "this place is literally perfect," or "I'm so happy right now," during our lunch. Clover Grill was the perfect start to our wonderful weekend and very much like the city itself—delicious, friendly and covered in just the right amount of grime.

Lake Effect Diner

On our way out of Buffalo, we made one last stop—breakfast at the Lake Effect Diner. The Lake Effect is a Mountain View Diner (#446) from 1952 and was moved from Wayne, PA to Buffalo in 2001. The Mountain View Diner company was founded near Mountain View, NJ and manufactured more than 400 prefabricated dining cars from 1938 to 1957. The diners made their way all over the country, and you can still find them in operation today.

I lament daily the rapid loss of diners I love, and unfortunately a lot of Mountain View Diners are gone or abandoned. Best case scenario is that they are moved and rehabilitated, like the Lake Effect. The West Taghkanic Diner in upstate NY is also from the Mountain View company (#399), as is the Airline Diner (#441) in Queens, Cafe de La Esquina (formerly the Relish Diner) in Williamsburg and the closed Blue Sky Diner in Long Island City.

The Lake Effect was featured on Guy Fieri's "Diners, Drive-ins and Dives," but don't hold that against it. Although I'm sure it wasn't called the Lake Effect during its life in PA, the neon sign (complete with blinking sparkles / snowflakes?) is a perfect example of how to do something new that remains true to the aesthetic of the classic diner (although the waitress's skirt length—or lack thereof—is mildly concerning).

The inside is beautifully restored and seems mostly original. I'm obsessed with the pale pink and blue color scheme, and it's a lovely change from the red/silver I usually see in these diners. The boomerang-print table tops are probably new, but they fit in perfectly with the curved pink ceiling, decorative metal walls and ribbed trim—everything I dream about in a diner.

The padded booths were a really interesting shape, with cushions extending into the curved corners which I loved. They make their own bread and cure their own meats—the food was definitely notches above standard diner fare and the portions were huge. I'm so glad the Lake Effect's days didn't end sadly in PA, but that it was able to live on—I can only hope other Mountain View diners are so lucky.

The GoodFellas Diner

On Saturday my friends and I walked to what is now my very favorite diner in the city, the GoodFellas Diner. I don't make that distinction lightly, and there are still a lot of diners on my to-do list, but it was nearly perfect. The diner wasn't named GoodFellas when the movie filmed scenes there (it's also called the Clinton Diner), but now it's pretty obvious they've decided to align themselves fully with their namesake film. Despite none of us having seen the movie, we graciously accepted when we were greeted upon entry and asked if we wanted to sit at the "Robert DeNiro table."

The outside of the diner looks like it came from the same makers of the wonderful Market Diner—which is now (quite depressingly) completely demolished. The zig-zag shaped roof is nearly identical to the Market's, although the GoodFellas Diner is quite large with a front room, main diner area, counter and a back bar room.

We arrived at the diner at about 1pm, and it was nearly empty. By the time we had finished our meals we were the only people in the diner, in addition to our waitress and two cooks. I was both thrilled and saddened to have the entire place to ourselves. We had free reign to take photos and explore, which I love, but also I worry about the longevity of places like this—diners are dropping like flies and I want them to not only survive, but to thrive.

Not everything in the diner feels 100% authentic, but the overall effect is still dazzling. The red and silver glitter vinyl booths, stools, chairs and amber-colored lamps are beautiful, but my favorite is the counter with its scalloped edge and basket weave printed top. It's also one of the longest diner counters I've seen, sitting at least 15 people.

The signs inside of the diner are really exquisite, advertising wonderful-sounding menu items such as Beefburger Steak, Fried Filet of Sole, Romanian Steak, London Broil, Beef Goulash, American Fries and Liver with Onions. I love the proclamations "Our Pies Are So Good," "The Best 1/2 Lb Burger in Town" and even the simple and to-the-point "We Serve Grits."

Our hostess/waitress/(probably) owner was so incredible—and straight out of Central Casting. She was generous with the coffee refills, let us linger as long as we liked and was eager to show us around. We didn't have the heart to tell her that none of us had seen the movie, and it seemed easier to pretend rather than to explain that we all just really love diners.

The recent loss of the Market Diner (and seeing a huge hole in the ground where it used to be) really hit me hard. I've lived in New York long enough to begin to see places I love and frequent disappear—and be replaced by luxury condos or something equally soulless. It's sad and unfair but also just a reality of life, especially here where change is a constant and money talks. I can only hope that for every diner I lose, I find another special gem like the GoodFellas Diner to help soften the blow.

Lower East Side

I was in desperate need of a city adventure on Saturday. It was threatening to be a wash out, so I headed out early hoping to get my fix before the rain started. My very favorite thing to do (maybe ever) is to get diner breakfast, so I started by picking a new-to-me diner.

I had photographed the Cup & Saucer way back for my Need Supply Co. ode-to-diners post, but it hadn't been open when I went. It's very small and narrow inside—just a counter and a few window seats—but it hit all of the classic diner buttons. The staff was friendly, the food was good and cheap and they even have the Greek/Anthora-style "It's Our Pleasure to Serve You" to-go coffee cups.

After breakfast and fueled by diner coffee, I wandered around Chinatown and the Lower East Side. Every time I find myself in the LES, I wonder why I don't make a point to be there more often. Sure it's become impossibly trendy like most of New York, but there are still wonderful old storefronts and beautiful signage around almost every corner.

I walked along the river for a bit, discovering a lot of streets I had never heard of before—Madison (Street, not Avenue), Rutgers, Cherry, Catherine, Oliver—along with wonderful views of the Manhattan Bridge and DUMBO waterfront.

The weather has been pretty terrible this month and I haven't been away from the city since Christmas—lately it seems as if that combination has taken a toll on my overall mood and left me feeling a little blah. But I'll never underestimate the power of a good diner breakfast and city stroll to clear out the cobwebs and make me fall completely in love with this city all over again.

Standalone Diners

I've been seeing a lot of articles lately about the fate of the classic New York diner, no doubt set in motion by the (very depressing) recent closure of the Market Diner. It's a topic that has been on my mind pretty much from the moment I moved to the city, and back in August I was asked to write about disappearing diners for the Need Supply blog. I had unwittingly been doing research nearly every weekend for years, but I amped up my diner visits to gather new information for the post.

In the beginning of last year, I made it a goal to visit the last five remaining stand-alone diners in Manhattan. This list included the now-shuttered Market Diner, Empire Diner, Star on 18, Square Diner and Pearl Street Diner. A stand-alone diner is freestanding on at least three sides, making them quite rare in a city where air rights can be sold for millions.

It turns out that there's one more in Manhattan that I missed on my first go-around—Hector's, an oversight that I quickly remedied. I didn't have time to eat at all the diners I scouted, but I did have breakfast at Hector's. It is wedged somewhat improbably under the Highline park, making it even more of an anomaly in an area of the city filled with designer shops and boutique hotels. I sat at the counter—my favorite seat at any diner—and had a very delicious breakfast wrap and coffee that was refilled numerous times.

I only walked by the New Thompson's Diner in Long Island City, but underneath its new (and horrible) awning is a beautiful classic stainless steel diner. I love the red stripe details, but it's killing me not knowing what's under that awning. I have seen many new-ish awnings come down only to reveal beautifully-preserved old signage underneath, and I can only hope the New Thompson's is harboring a similar secret.

Also in Long Island City is a beautiful stand-alone diner that is currently sitting empty. It was most recently home to M. Wells steakhouse, but the inside still has classic diner décor—long counter, vinyl booths, stainless accents and swivel stools. It looks as though it's being renovated or at least doesn't look totally abandoned, which gives me hope that it won't suffer the same fate as the Market Diner (or 5 Pointz) and end up leveled to make way for even more luxury condos.

Upstate NY Diners

I mentioned that we passed three diners just off of the Taconic Parkway, on our way to Lake George—we ate at the West Taghkanic Diner but we just stopped to creep on the Chief Martindale Diner and O's Eatery. I'm sure the Taconic used to be lousy with roadside diners in the 60s, but diners are dying at an alarming rate. They seem to be less threatened upstate than they are in the city, but faster interstates and more direct routes have left scenic roadways like the Taconic feeling forgotten.

All three of these diners are very close to each other—it took about 8 minutes to drive from one to the other. I almost fainted with excitement when we arrived at the Chief Martindale Diner. They have not one, but two amazing signs, and it's impossible to pick which one I like more. The neon DINER letters are HUGE (presumably to function as a billboard to passing motorists) and just perfect in every way. The Chief Martindale sign is a total classic as well, although I guess I could say that it's lacking in colorful neon like the West Taghkanic sign, but it's just so great with its arrow and script that I can't fault it for much.

O's Eatery was slightly underwhelming, but only because the two before it were so very excellent. Taken alone, its double-sided diner sign is pretty perfect, but it's also not a classic rail car style like the other two. I can't speak to the interiors of either place, although I did look up the Chief Martindale and from what I saw, I think it might be even better inside than the West Taghkanic if that's possible (next time!).

Bonus diner!

On our first morning in Lake George, we ate at the Prospect Mountain Diner, and we liked it so much that we came back the next two days for breakfast. It's a classic rail car style, and although they have outdoor seating, we sat inside for ambiance-sake. The vinyl-glitter booths, black-and-white-checked floor and boomerang countertops were all so wonderful, but it was the tabletop jukeboxes that really set the scene (your song selection played throughout the whole diner). At one point during our first breakfast—with a delicious waffle in front of me and a whole day at the Magic Forest ahead of us—I looked up and said "I don't think I could be happier than I am now," and I definitely meant it.

West Taghkanic Diner

When I planned our epic Labor Day weekend roadtrip to Lake George, I knew that I wanted to take the scenic route on the way there. I've been wanting to explore a bit of the Taconic Parkway, the longest parkway in New York state and the second-longest contiguous road to be listed on the National Register of Historic Places. There were three diners in particular that I wanted to see, but I knew that I wanted to stop and eat at the West Taghkanic Diner, located just off the Taconic on NY-82 in Ancram, NY. I discovered it a year ago when I was planning for a different road trip, and it had been on my mind ever since.

Like most diners I love, the West Taghkanic has an epically amazing sign, although I was slightly disappointed to see a bit of what looked like scaffolding obscuring parts of it. I also realized that I would have preferred to see the neon lit up in all of its multi-colored glory, but now I'll just have to plan a return visit when it's dark outside.

The inside felt mostly original—to my delight—with wonderful counter stools, boomerang-print countertops, loads of aluminum and stainless and the best light-up signs for the fountain, restrooms and telephone. They even had branded cups, which I can't remember ever seeing at a diner—I always appreciate adherence to a brand, especially when it's based on a sign as good as the West Taghkanic's.

New York Diner

When I was asked if I'd like to write a piece on diners for the Need Supply Co. blog, of course I said YES. There are few things I like more in life than a good, authentic diner and they're becoming distressingly harder to find in the city.

News of the imminent destruction of the Market Diner really bummed me out, and I made it an even higher priority in my life to find new (old) diners and visit the ones I love more frequently. Writing the blog post gave me another excuse to investigate some new spots, and I found a lot of gems. My best new find was definitely the New York Diner on Northern Blvd in Long Island City (Queens). I'm not sure how this delightful, rail car-style diner managed to stay under my radar for so long, and why it's not on any "Best Diners of New York" lists is baffling to me.

Rail car diners are nearly extinct in the city, with the Empire Diner being the last remaining one in operation in Manhattan. The New York diner is sandwiched between a gas station and a Best Buy parking lot, and is pretty easy to miss if you're not looking for it. The sign just says "diner," and when I got my check it had a third name (Mike's something) but the waitresses were wearing shirts that said New York Diner, and that's how it's known on Yelp.

The place is tiny—there might be seven(ish) booths and ten(ish) counter stools, but it's bursting with old school diner charm. The booths are upholstered in glittery vinyl and there is aluminum and stainless covering nearly every surface. I had already eaten at another diner that day, but I sat at the counter and had a chocolate milkshake, which was delicious (and cheap!). I will definitely be back to eat a proper diner breakfast, even though it's unfortunately a bit out of the way to make it into my regular rotation.

Market Diner

Last spring when I read that there are only five stand-alone diners left in Manhattan, I made it my mission to visit them all (here, here and here). It wasn't hard to do so since I love diner breakfast more than anything, and five is a very depressingly low number. Even more depressing: last week I found out that the Market Diner—one of the best—is going to be replaced by a 13-story apartment building.

The Market Diner opened in 1962, closed in 2006 and reopened again in 2008 after a renovation. Not only is it a one-story structure surrounded by high-rises, but it has parking and space for outdoor seating (set up last year, but not when we went on Saturday). It's these things that make it remarkable in modern-day New York, and of course, they're the things that have made it endangered for quite some time. Currently there is no set date for demolition, but the diner is on a month-to-month lease and permits have been filed for the apartment building.

The zig-zag roof and metal diner sign are perfect, although an even better neon sign was an unfortunate victim of the renovation process (where do these gems go??). The inside was also stripped of most of its character and modernized, with chairs instead of counter stools, but the orange-and-brown color scheme still feels retro enough to count.

Our breakfast on Saturday was bittersweet—joyful because there's nothing better than a good diner breakfast with friends and sad because it's probably the last time we'll be able to have that at the Market Diner.

209 Diner

On the first day that we got to Kerhonkson, we drove past this incredible abandoned diner a few times and I couldn't resist stopping to creep on it a little bit. While definitely not currently in use, the 209 Diner looked like it hadn't been closed for too long and there was a "permit granted" notice on the front door which makes me think it might open again soon. That being said, it was definitely over-grown and just abandoned enough to be a totally worthy stop.

I couldn't resist peeking inside and was surprised to find the interior in such good shape. The decor is classic diner, from the swivel stools to the turquoise-and-black color scheme and pedestal candy dispensers. My very favorite part, however, is the incredible neon sign—and clock!—that I hope remains no matter what the new owners have in mind for the 209.

West Side Highway

On Saturday, after meeting friends at a diner in Chelsea and walking a portion of the High Line, I decided to check out an abandoned stand-alone diner that I had read about. I walked about a mile down the West Side Highway, which I don't do very often but I really love the desolate and gritty feeling of the far west side.

Of course every neighborhood in New York has become impossibly cool and expensive and the west side is no exception (probably  especially the west side), but the West Side Highway still feels a bit abandoned, especially on a cold, winter weekend. I only passed a few people—mostly walking dogs—and I didn't cover much ground, but saw so many wonderful things. There are some really great old hotels, abandoned and for-sale buildings, auto-body shops and so much amazing signage and vintage typography that I couldn't have been happier.

I only went as far south as the abandoned diner and then turned around. It was hard to take photos through the tiny openings in the chain link fence, but the inside of the diner is falling apart, filled with debris and is still totally amazing. All of the windows are out of the old dining car and it's in really bad shape, but you can still imagine how it must have looked in its glory days. I hope someone resurrects the diner instead of just tearing it down—what a dream it would be to be able to bring it back to life—but its pretty incredible in its current state of decay.

Friday Food: The Airline Diner

After finishing my (sadly short) list of stand-alone diners left in Manhattan, I knew I wanted to continue my search into the outer boroughs. Last Sunday I went to the Airline Diner in Queens, which was established in 1952 as the Airline but is now part of the Jackson Hole franchise. It's located on Astoria Blvd, close to LaGuardia (hence the airline theme) and accessible by taking the N/R or the M60 bus (I took the bus).

Thankfully they've kept the exterior pretty much intact, and the interior is classic diner décor through and through — shiny vinyl chairs, amoeba-patterned tabletops, jukeboxes, vintage signs — if you think a classic diner should have something, chances are the Airline does. I'm not sure how much of the interior is "original" but none of it feels forced or out of place and it all looked pretty authentic.

The building itself looks as if it has been added onto at some point, and is twice as big as I expected it to be. There is an additional seating area in the back that you access by walking behind the counter, so although there were a lot of people waiting we were seated fairly quickly. I had cinnamon raisin bread french toast, which was as delicious as it sounds, and their diner coffee was strong and the refills plentiful.

I really appreciate that, although they clearly rebranded the diner as the Jackson Hole, they did so in a way that remained faithful to the original signage. So many places would have just slapped a terrible modern logo onto the amazing neon signs or, worse yet, replaced them all together.

You might recognize the Airline from Goodfellas, a movie I definitely should see and I'm kind of embarrassed to say that I haven't yet. The only bad part about going in the morning is that we didn't get to see all of the beautiful neon lit up — I guess I'll just have to go back at nighttime and try one of their "famous" burgers.

I'm very excited about continuing my diner adventures and exploring new-to-me parts of this wonderful city. I'm going to try to go to one new diner each weekend whenever I can — I have no idea where the next one will be but that's all part of the adventure.