The A-1 diner at 3 Bridge Street in Gardiner, Maine is an old Worcester Streamliner diner car brought to its present location by truck in 1946 and installed on long Erector-like legs to bring it up one story to the street level. Sixty-two years ago it was called the Heald’s diner and back then it was a hopping place for all three shifts of factory workers. It is still going strong and owned once again by the same family, the Giberson’s. Though evolving with the times, you can still get classic diner food like meat loaf with mashed potatoes and peas but there also might be a Moroccan tagine or chicken Marbella on the same menu.
When my sister, Tanya and I go for dinner she always orders the fried smelts from the Kennebec River less than a quarter mile away and I order the fried pickled tripe. There is a classic diner menu and then there are specials. Michael Giberson and Neil Anderson have co-owned it since 1988, Michael is the chef, he does most of the cooking and sourcing of the local vegetables, fish, meats and fruit. The other cook is Bob the “biscuit maker” who has been making biscuits "steady" for 34 years. If you can figure out how he makes them I am offering a big prize, they look like they have yeast because of the height but they don’t. Baking powder? Guess it is a Maine legend that deserves to be kept a secret.
We're not really "Food TV" watchers since most of the shows make me hungry and feel inadequate as a cook, but we've recently become addicted to Man vs. Food. It's nice to live vicariously through host Adam Richman because the amount he eats per half hour show would satisfy a small village. You get to see all the fatty, gooey, meaty, spicy goodness without any of the caloric repercussions. In fact, it's the one show I watch when I'm feeling peckish because just seeing him pound down French Fry-covered, foot-long chili dogs and manhole-sized pancakes makes me so disgusted I never want to eat again. Or at least holds off my hunger until my next official meal.
If one day, someone asks me what the best French fries I have ever
eaten were, I would probably be inclined to remember Benita's Frites,
this railroad-sized French fry shop on the Santa Monica promenade.
Benita's introduced me to the dipping sauces, to the notion that fries
can go with more than ketchup. Mustard, mayonnaise, blue cheese,
barbecue sauce, ranch dressing... They served the fries in paper cones
set in silver "cone-holders," for lack of a better word. It was there
that I first developed the philosophy that I could live off of French
fries.