Andy HoffmanOn the outskirts of Middletown, Connecticut, out where the protectors of the city’s funky vibe have relegated the big box and chain stores, you can find The Athenian Diner. Places like this used to be New England and New York standbys. I remember in the seventies and eighties, when I would drive frequently to Philadelphia and New York along route 95, there was a place just like the Athenian: oversized, with a menu to match, Greek-owned and heavy on traditional Greek foods alongside the standard diner fare. These places all had a Greek omelet, and they were all slightly different. They all had spinach and feta, served with toast and potatoes, but some had onions, some olives, some tomatoes. The onions could be finely-diced and raw or nearly so or caramelized. The olives ran the gamut from canned and sliced, like you find on a neighborhood pizza, while others showed a little more national pride. Some even included sun-dried tomatoes, always my favorite. Somewhere you could find moussaka on the menu and all kinds of eggplant dishes. They always served breakfast all day.
Most of those diners have closed now, victims of their own success. They whole idea had been for Greek immigrants to make enough money to get their kids, or their kids’ kids, an education and a job that didn’t require attention to customers from six in the morning until midnight. Those successful later generation didn’t want to work those punishing hours, no matter how much money they made doing it.
But the Athenian still stands, and it has long been one of Deb’s favorite places. She frequented Middletown because her brother, her only sibling, leads Religious Life at Wesleyan University. David followed his father into the rabbinate, albeit in a less traditional stripe of Judaism. Deb frequently has Thanksgiving with David and his family, and occasional Jewish holidays as well, at least since her return to the United States from the time living in England and Holland, where her daughters were born. Oddly, David’s family is composed similarly to Deb’s, with an older child followed by twins. Deb’s children are several years older than David’s, but the cousins – or cous-cous as they call them – are close, and everyone looks forward to the opportunities to gather. And while not always the case when the families come together in Middletown, most visits included a huge collective breakfast at the Athenian.
And there’s something satisfy about coming together as a family at the Athenian. The restaurant is still family run and usually crowded. We aren’t the only family gathering there either. Often we find three or four other groups raucously engaged around pushed-together tables, eight or twenty people sharing stories they’ve told before, carrying on old arguments, and trying to outsmart family members by ordering something from the lunch menu instead.
The food at the Athenian is always good and always fast. For a place that does hundreds of omelets every day, their system keeps the food moving, and I have never once seen an order messed up. The Athenian also serves good coffee, a bit of a rarity for these old Greek places and maybe one reason for their longevity. Their pancakes, which we usually order as a sweet top-off to the family breakfast, to be shared, have a chewy, stretchy, eggy quality I particularly like. They also often have soccer games playing on their many unobtrusive TVs, which David and I appreciate, especially during World Cup. I usually go with the Greek omelet, here made with lightly fried onion and a creamy feta. We will probably go back to the Athenian for as long as we can, whether the kids join us or not, and we will always think of family when there. I feel especially grateful for the enthusiasm with which Deb’s family includes me. I may be a recent addition at those Athenian Diner breakfasts, but I always feel like a fundamental part.