Diner Quotes

“There’s a safety in thinking in a diner. You can have your coffee or your milk shake, and you can go off into strange dark areas, and always come back to the safety of the diner.”
― David Lynch, Catching the Big Fish: Meditation, Consciousness, and Creativity

“At the top of the slope on the perimeter of the site, overlooking six lanes of motorway, is a diner frequented by lorry drivers who have either just unloaded or or are waiting to pick up their cargo. Anyone nursing a disappointment with domestic life would find relief in this tiled, brightly lit cafeteria with its smells of fries and petrol, for it has the reassuring feel of a place where everyone is just passing through--and which therefore has none of the close-knit or convivial atmosphere which could cast a humiliating light on one's own alienation. It suggests itself as an ideal location for Christmas lunch for those let down by their families.”
― Alain de Botton, The Pleasures and Sorrows of Work

“It's a sign of a good diner to have customers who are stuck in time. A well-known rule of eating is that if there are no time-loop customers, the place probably isn't worth even ordering a plate of fries.”
― Joseph Fink, Welcome to Night Vale

“A poet could write volumes about diners, because they're so beautiful. They're brightly lit, with chrome and booths and Naugahyde and great waitresses. Now, it might not be so great in the health department, but I think diner food is really worth experiencing periodically.”
― David Lynch

“Sure, there were a few more duct-taped tears in the vinyl seats, a few new dings in the fiberglass surfboards lining the walls, but the bacon was still crisp and pancakes were available twenty-four hours a day, the way the good Lord intended.”
― Rob Thomas

“The New York sidewalk led us along a little corner park rimmed with yellow-orange and violet pansies that seemed to be smiling, their faces upturned, and past a bagel shop that smelled of sesame and salt, delicious warm air. We passed an empty wine bar with a pink chandelier, whimsical and dim inside, and a neighborhood diner with its blue neon sign huge and lit up, little white line-cook hats—the city seemed in my vision like a multifaceted gem, spectacular. I wished I could keep everything I witnessed like a photograph, to forever hold this electric aliveness. The colors of the flowers and the clothing were crisp and rosy, hyper-bright against the subdued sun-drenched pigments of the streets and the brick buildings, all seeming faded, softer than real. Pops of coral and red—a scarf, a lady’s lips—were pops of life.”
― Aspen Matis, Your Blue Is Not My Blue: A Missing Person Memoir

“I'm too tired to cook, and I reckon you are, too. Let's grab some grub at the diner on the way home."
Nodding at everyone, there not being one person they didn’t know, they sat at a corner table. Both ordered the special: chicken-fried steak, mash and gravy, turnips, and coleslaw. Biscuits. Pecan pie with ice cream. At the next table, a family of four joined hands and lowered their heads as the father said a blessing out loud. At “Amen” they kissed the air, squeezed hands, and passed the cornbread.”
― Delia Owens, Where the Crawdads Sing

“Judge Sims called for a lunch recess until 1:00 P.M. The diner would bring over tuna fish, chicken salad, and ham sandwiches for the jurors, who would eat in the deliberation room. To be fair to the town's two eating establishments, the Dog-Gone Beer Hall would deliver hot dogs, chili, and shrimp po'boys on alternative days. They always brought something for the cat, too. Sunday Justice preferred the po'boys.”
― Delia Owens, Where the Crawdads Sing

“I miss you
I miss the memories at the diner where we used to meet
I miss you
I miss seeing you every day
I miss you
I miss knowing if you’re okay
I miss you”
― Lidia Longorio, Hey Humanity

“The smell of bacon sizzling and the sound of
eggs hitting hot pans were drowned out by the
sonorous diner conversations happening all over the
restaurant. Some were laughing at their own jokes in
one of the center tables. A couple wordlessly broke
up, using the diner napkins to dry their tears, sitting
in one of the red with white upside down triangle
detailed booths. There were also some teenagers
arguing about the pronunciation of gif on the counter
table, sitting on the red high chairs.”
― Lidia Longorio, Death's Rattle

“James turned the kitchen radio to a classic rock station as he started making the burger. Bon Jovi’s Livin’ On A Prayer played throughout the restaurant. “It’s our song, Vanessa!” Elijah exclaimed as he and Vanessa sang along to the chorus. When the song came to an end, a few of the customers clapped, zapping them out of the Bon Jovi daze. Vanessa took a bow, embracing the attention. Elijah shyly got back to work and brought a customer their meal.”
― Lidia Longorio, Death's Rattle

“Elijah greeted the new family of customers, “Hello.
Welcome to Dean’s Diner!” he said with a classic
customer service smile. Sometimes he thought he
repeated that phrase more than his own name.”
― Lidia Longorio, Death's Rattle

“The world around him began to change. Voices
became inaudible and his gaze was stuck on the man
on the ground. Elijah was taken out of that state by
Vanessa’s voice.”
― Lidia Longorio, Death's Rattle

“Michael's house was on Magazine Street across from a little diner called Johnny River. It was a local, homemade-looking place with a screen door and dishes that didn't match. The kind of place tourists never find unless they're visiting a friend in New Orleans who happens to live in the neighborhood.
The eggs came three on a plate, over easy but still hot in the center, perfectly done, with two biscuits, gravy, sausage, grits, and hot sauce on the side, and because of them I liked Michael just a little bit more after breakfast than I had before.
I walked across the street listening to the screen door slam behind me. His house was the second in from the corner. A narrow Victorian painted lilac on the outside with cream-colored steps, chipped and sunken in the middle from who knows how many years and how many footsteps.”
― Margot Berwin, Scent of Darkness

“Growing up outside of Philadelphia, I never wanted for diner food, whether it was from Bob's Diner in Roxborough or the Trolley Car Diner in Mount Airy. The food wasn't anything special- eggs and toast, meat loaf and gravy, the omnipresent glass case of pies- but I always found the food comforting and satisfying, served as it was in those old-fashioned, prefabricated stainless steel trolley cars. Whenever we would visit my mom's parents in Canterbury, New Jersey, we'd stop at the Claremont Diner in East Windsor on the way home, and I'd order a fat, fluffy slice of coconut cream pie, which I'd nibble on the whole car ride back to Philly.
I'm not sure why I've always found diner food so comforting. Maybe it's the abundance of grease or the utter lack of pretense. Diner food is basic, stick-to-your-ribs fare- carbs, eggs, and meat, all cooked up in plenty of hot fat- served up in an environment dripping with kitsch and nostalgia. Where else are a jug of syrup and a bottomless cup of coffee de rigueur? The point of diner cuisine isn't to astound or impress; it's to fill you up cheaply with basic, down-home food.
My menu, however, should astound and impress, which is why I've decided to take up some of the diner foods I remember from my youth and put my own twist on them. So far, this is what I've come up with:

Sloe gin fizz cocktails/chocolate egg creams
Grilled cheese squares: grappa-soaked grapes and Taleggio/
Asian pears and smoked Gouda
"Eggs, Bacon, and Toast": crostini topped with wilted spinach,
pancetta, poached egg, and chive pesto
Smoky meat loaf with slow-roasted onions and prune
ketchup
Whipped celery root puree
Braised green beans with fire-roasted tomatoes
Mini root beer floats
Triple coconut cream pie”
― Dana Bate, The Girls' Guide to Love and Supper Clubs

“I envision a trendy upscale diner, not too expensive, where you can get well-made, beautifully presented homestyle cooking- savory meat loaf, steaks, roasted chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, wiener schnitzel, pie à la mode, little baskets of five different kinds of homemade bread.”
― Hannah Mccouch, Girl Cook: A Novel

“The Kopper Kettle had a New Englander's fish and chips special that couldn't be beat. The clam chowder was thick, creamy, and stuck to his ribs. The blueberry pie was homemade.”
― Kate Angell, The Cottage on Pumpkin and Vine

“The pancakes and French toast were topped with locally sourced Honey-Honey honey, made grumpy to order with powdered sugar and cinnamon, with a perfectly star-cut strawberry on top.”
― Ashley Poston, A Novel Love Story