Frugal Fun Alert: Thursday
Photoist
Yo, Philly in the News
Whiz of the Web: Thirsty Thursday
Dear Philly Diner (3925 Walnut St),
Let's be honest with each other. You've never exactly been haute cuisine. Phillyist remembers your first month of operation, which was such a disaster that we walked out on you after waiting for 45 minutes and not getting our hot chocolate. But admittedly, since then your service has improved. In fact, it's improved about as much as your ingredient quality and portion sizes have deteriorated.
Here are a few comments that Phillyist would like to make about our recent visit to your establishment:
The strategy of using vast amounts of second-rate gravy to mask third-rate ingredients is a tried-and-true dodge, and we see that you've mastered it in regards to the mashed potatoes. The only problem in your case is that while the potatoes are definitely third-rate, to call the gravy second-rate would be a sad (but generous) lie. Really, it's a toss-up as to which is better served obfuscating the flavour of the other.
We suppose, though, that we can be thankful that you didn't try to use the same gravy-masking strategy on the chunk of blackened mystery that you tried to pass off as country-fried steak. At first we weren't sure why you didn't cover the dried-up, rock-hard thing on our plate with gravy -- but then we actually tried the gravy. We're no gourmet, but we're pretty sure that white country gravy isn't supposed to be sour. OK, that's a lie. We are a gourmet, and we know positively that the sauce that goes on country-fried steak isn't supposed to taste like some unholy fusion of lard and tartar sauce, and that the strong rancid flavour means that it ought to be discarded, not served to paying customers.
Please don't think that Phillyist is unsympathetic to your plight. We understand that the same regrettable economic forces that force you to serve dumpster gleanings instead of actual food also mean that you probably can't afford new tableware. But at the same time, it's almost insulting to our intelligence to serve a small brick of charred... substance with rancid gravy on it, four tablespoons of mashed potatoes covered in salty crap and twenty-three (yes, we counted) freezer-burned, anaemic, tepid and bland green bean bits on a giant plate and expect us not to notice how miniscule the portions are just because the plate is ridiculously oversized. In fact, if you were to serve it on a normal dish, it might even look a little less stingy!
On the plus side, your garlic cheese toast was adequately toasted, hot, covered in something that might actually once have been cheese and, wonder of wonders, tasted faintly of garlic. Kudos!
Your staff was reasonably attentive, considering that Phillyist was one of, oh, four diners in the place, but you should really train them better when it comes to serving beverages. Specifically, they should be told to check for mysterious floaty bits. Ice is OK, but anything else -- like whatever it was in our water this evening -- is not.
Yours sincerely,
Phillyist
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Actually, if you remember, hot cocoa was the one thing we DID get... well, that and the food from 3 other tables, without getting our own order even taken. So we threw down 50 cents for the cocoa and blew that popsicle stand. Didn't we go to Koch's instead?
Man, I hate Philly Diner.
Oh, that's right. We got the cocoa, but nothing else. And the cocoa took about half an hour to arrive, and we had to ask for it twice.
Memory plays funny tricks.
Despite everything you've said, I now find myself really craving some diner food.
Feanor: Stick to the Midtown. It sucks, but in the expected, edible way.
My favorite part about the diner is that you can consistently expect a hot milkshake and a bowl of cold soup. It feels a little Alice in Wonderland-ish.