Toby Goodshank Original Art 2025

Life with Chicken and Broccoli

Tag: travel

  • Nintendo Switch 2 Caper

    Nintendo Switch 2 Caper

    My son and I are avid video game collectors, and we were excited about the release of Nintendo’s new console, the Switch 2. We tried earnestly when the initial pre-order website launched, only to get frozen out and miss our chance months ago. My son threw a gentle zinger at the time, letting me know that so and so’s dad had stayed up and snagged one. The dagger through any father’s heart, losing out to Mythical Dad X who obviously cares more about his kid.

    But June 5, 2025 was my chance for redemption.

    With the help of our new AI friends, we learned that several retailers would have midnight releases online, and a few would be selling the console in-store at 12:01 AM and again when stores opened. I’m extremely line averse. I’ll do just about anything to avoid waiting in a line and have lived a life designed around avoiding the WAIT. Eating at off hours, traveling through the night, researching how to dodge lines like it’s a game. My kids are lucky to have Magic Genie Pass, Express Lane Hotel Staying Dad who makes it his mission to squeeze the most out of our time with as little waiting as possible. Maybe it stems from some childhood trauma, etched into my DNA, a nightmare of a line where everything went wrong.

    Options were limited. Best Buy was opening at 12:01 AM and the backup was Target at 8:00 AM. Sadly, we’ve lost our Gamestops in the Danbury area, and the nearest one in Trumbull, inside a mall, was guaranteed chaos.

    At first, the plan was Target. Get there by 6:00 AM. But after watching a few YouTube videos, my son started to get anxious. The lines were already being reported by local media. With limited quantities per store and only a few retailers carrying the console, he wanted to pivot. He started nudging me to head out to Best Buy that night instead. I agreed, thinking maybe we could avoid the early morning chaos.

    While watching TV with my wife, I noticed my son stealthily creeping around, checking his phone, glancing at the clock. “Maybe we should go now,” he suggested. I had originally said 10:00 PM. Two hours seemed tolerable. But he worked me down. By 8:30 we were in the car headed to Danbury.

    Taking the highway instead of backroads, we could already see the line had wrapped around the front of Best Buy. We knew they had 40 consoles available, so we figured we’d drive around to the back to assess the situation. That’s when we saw the line stretching all the way around the corner. He wanted to wait. I couldn’t do it. Three and a half hours in line with no guarantee? No thanks.

    We pivoted to Target to see if a line had started, even though they weren’t selling until 8:00 AM. Nobody was there. We took our customary stroll through our favorite sections. The Nintendo Switch display was barren, cleared out in preparation for the launch.

    We got home by 9:30 and reported to Mom that the first attempt was a bust. I wasn’t thrilled about waking up even earlier to wait in line again, and the debate started. “Please Dad, please!” My wife reminded me, “He’s a good kid.” She wasn’t wrong. How could I say no?

    Sitting there at 10:00 PM, I made a call. I’d try again at 12:01 AM online. My son was doubtful. He figured our best shot was showing up in person the next morning. Still, I logged into all the retailers: Costco, Walmart, Gamestop. Made sure my accounts were updated with payment info and mailing addresses. I knew sometimes sites upload inventory a bit early, so I kept refreshing just in case.

    My son went to bed around 11:00 PM, or so I thought. At 11:45 he rose like the living dead and wandered back in, just as I was getting my tabs organized. I gave him the phone with the Gamestop app while I took the computer.

    From 11:50 on, we were refreshing like maniacs. At 12:00, Walmart’s countdown timer hit zero. But the links were frozen. Nothing redirected. Just spinning wheels of death. As minutes passed, our hope was draining. How can we beat bots, resellers, and whoever else figured out an algorithm?

    By 12:16, we were ready to call it. My son, now even more dismayed, knew that if I stayed up past midnight, the odds of me waking up at 4:30 AM were basically zero.

    Then one last round of refreshing. Suddenly a third icon appeared on Walmart’s site, joining the two blank Switch listings. This one had an “Add” button.

    Mash. Mash. Mash. Click click click.

    Error. Out of stock.

    Refresh. “Add” again.

    Then, a new screen. We were in a queue. A little window popped up in the corner saying we’d be notified and could view or dismiss.

    We waited. Low expectations. Probably a glitch.

    And then, Eureka. A 9-minute countdown popped up. We were in. The purchase screen loaded.

    I clicked “Add to Cart.” Nothing happened. Tried again. Still nothing.

    Then I noticed it was prompting for the CVV code.

    “Get the light!” I yelled, as my son turned on his phone flashlight.

    Code entered. One final click. Successssssssss!

  • Diner Review: The Blue Colony Diner – Newtown, CT

    Diner Review: The Blue Colony Diner – Newtown, CT

    Easy on, easy off.

    The Greek families who settled in Newtown, Connecticut weren’t content with just arriving in a new country. They wanted their own colony. A Blue Colony, to pay homage to their Grecian shores. When they were welcomed to the New World, they didn’t simply accept it. Maybe they got mad. Maybe they didn’t understand the language. Maybe they were just being stubborn. Either way, they said, “No problem. We make our own colony.” And so, the Blue Colony was born.

    Their relatives, settling in neighboring towns, followed suit by creating their own color-based colonies. The Red Colony still stands today, born out of friendly rivalry or maybe not-so-friendly fights between the families.

    They even created a crest for the Blue Colony: two majestic lions flanking a shield, proudly displaying the letters B and C. The message was clear. Don’t mess with our colony, Malaka!

    The diner has served us faithfully through the years. As kids, it was our Sunday morning ritual after church. I remember ordering from the kids’ menu; the Rocky Balboa Roast Beef with mashed potatoes, while my brother went with the Lion, a classic roast turkey dinner.

    In high school, the Blue Colony became our late-night landing zone. A place where inebriated or high teenagers scraped together loose change and dollar bills to split coffees and cheesy gravy fries. We would sit there trying to get our heads right before heading home, watching the cast of local characters filter in. Sometimes there would be a fight. Sometimes someone tried to run out on their bill. I earned my own badge of honor the night I got banned after rolling in with a rowdy crew who got into trouble. I didn’t even do anything, but I wore the ban like a badge.

    Fast forward to today, and this place still stands tall. A Newtown landmark since 1973, it is everything you would expect from a classic East Coast diner, full of charm and character.

    At the entrance, a massive display of oversized cookies, pastries, and desserts greets you. The diner is split into a right and left section. I always seem to end up on the left, the side we knew growing up. The right side is either newer or always felt darker. I can’t help but feel like Larry David, wondering if we are being deliberately pushed left. Is this the “ugly” section for undesirables?

    Our party of five was seated in one of the rounded corner booths on the left. Our server was a tall Greek man named Alex who did a great job. Diner staff can always be hit or miss. I feel most places have seasoned servers who carry a heavy life burden or maybe just the wear of so many years holding large plates. Most people are mirrored reflections of your own mood, so I always try to bring a fun, light energy.

    In diners, there are safe bets and there are total gambles. My friend once ordered spaghetti and meatballs at 1:30 in the morning—a clear gamble. He was ruthlessly mocked for it. I stuck with a classic: the Farmer’s Omelet, home fries, rye toast with butter, and a side of coleslaw. Everyone else had breakfast for dinner, except my sister-in-law and son, who went with the can’t-go-wrong turkey triple-decker with fries.

    I like my omelets slightly runny and my home fries with some char, but I never ask for it that way. I have been on a lucky streak lately and enjoy the surprise of seeing what shows up. The most impressive part? The speed. It felt like the cook in the back was racing a stopwatch to see how fast they could crank out five meals. The food arrived quickly and tasted exactly as it should; hearty, satisfying, and consistent with what has kept this place thriving for over 50 years.

    The coleslaw was reliably good, as it always is at a proper diner, each with its own variation. I had a spoonful of the seafood bisque, which came out like molten lava; flavorful, with mysterious but tasty chunks of seafood. I also appreciate that they serve a BIG cup of coffee, one that lasts the whole meal without needing a refill. And to finish, I snagged a few sips of my son’s black and white milkshake, ordered to calm his nerves after a tough baseball game. Everyone was happy and content with their food.

    Now, in midlife, I am glad they forgot about my ban from all those years ago. I can walk in with my head held high, check out the specials, sit among the early-bird diners, and get excited just like my mother used to about the sheer quantity of food at a great value. She always used to say, “I’m going to wrap this up and eat it for lunch tomorrow.”

    Thank you, Blue Colony, for settling these lands so many years ago and doing it your way.

    Final Verdict: 7.25/10

    W/Nostalgia Kicker 8/10

    Still one of the best around. Still doing it right.

  • Restaurant Review: Mix Prime – Danbury, CT

    Restaurant Review: Mix Prime – Danbury, CT

    We celebrated a very special family birthday at Mix Prime in Danbury, Connecticut. For weeks, my son had been saying he was “dying to go to the Mix!”, a running joke in our house ever since my brother-in-law had been raving about the place and its 40-day dry-aged beef.

    The restaurant is divided into two sections. One is a bar area with booths and high tops, and the other feels like it was added later by knocking down a wall into an adjacent unit. Our table for twelve was tucked into the back corner of the restaurant with a window view of the grill master at work.

    The ambiance has a high-end steakhouse feel, with rich wood finishes throughout. I imagined Ron Burgundy walking in and commenting on the rich mahogany and many leather-bound books. Our waiter was a seasoned pro; friendly, playful, and clearly knowledgeable. He recited the day’s specials from memory without missing a beat.

    Since we were making a full night of it and had a large group, we ran the menu from start to finish: appetizers, entrees, cocktails, and coffee variations.

    The bread service was solid, freshly baked, though not warm and served with an olive tapenade in what we hoped was light olive oil. It didn’t quite look like extra virgin. I considered asking, but also didn’t want to find out I was dipping into a naughty seed oil. We requested butter and received small decorative balls of it, straight from the fridge and difficult to spread.

    For our appetizers, we started with the escargot, Caesar salad, French onion soup, and Prince Edward Island mussels. I was especially excited to see escargot on the menu, it’s a rare find around here. It arrived sizzling in a special dish, each piece nestled in its own well of garlic butter. The escargot was rich, buttery, and everything I had hoped for. The French onion soup was another standout, made with sweet Vidalia onions that gave the broth a mellow depth. I also had my eye on the roasted figs, but those will have to wait until next time.

    We ordered a variety of steaks: filet mignon, ribeye, and New York strip. I was hoping my wife would go for the prime rib, but she chose the filet mignon Oscar instead, which came topped with lobster meat, asparagus, and béarnaise sauce. The sides were just as varied: mashed potatoes, baked potatoes, sautéed mushrooms, Brussels sprouts, baked mac and cheese, and a steakhouse classic—creamed spinach, a house favorite.

    My wife and I are longtime steakhouse fans. We’ve visited many of the New York City staples and eventually decided that, for the price and consistency, Outback beat most of them. That was until LongHorn came along and raised the bar. That said, my 18-ounce dry-aged prime ribeye at Mix was cooked medium rare, came out sizzling with butter crackling on the plate, and was absolutely delicious. The quality of the cut was clearly superior, and the dry aging produced a noticeably more tender steak. Because of the thickness of the cut, I did need to season it with salt and pepper something I usually don’t have to do at LongHorn. Yes, it was about 60 percent more expensive than a LongHorn ribeye, but it was worth it. I’m not someone who enjoys paying more for gimmicks or pretension, and thankfully, that wasn’t the case here.

    My wife’s filet mignon was just okay in terms of flavor. We weren’t sure if the béarnaise sauce dulled the taste, but it definitely needed salt and pepper. It was ordered medium rare and came out rare in the center, which we actually prefer to it being overdone. We also sampled the New York strip, which was very good, but the ribeye was the clear winner.

    All of the sides ranged from good to excellent. My favorites were the creamed spinach, Brussels sprouts, and my baked potato; which was simple but elevated with all the right toppings. The restaurant offers three steak sauces: Cabernet, au poivre, and chimichurri. I tried the chimichurri, which was outstanding, slightly different than most in the best way, with a generous helping of scallions.

    For dessert, we brought our own birthday cake and pastries but did order coffees. The decaf cappuccinos were some of the best we’ve had in a while, less milk than usual, piping hot, and beautifully finished with a cinnamon dusting.

    The mood throughout the night was happy, relaxed, and celebratory. We weren’t the only birthday group there, and it’s clearly a go-to spot for special occasions. Another highlight was my brother’s deep songbird rendition of ‘Happy Birthday,’ complete with enthusiastic and slightly aggressive hand clapping. We’ll definitely be back for another round of steaks, and I can already hear my son: “I’m dying to go to the Mix!”

    Final Verdict: 8.45 out of 10

  • Restaurant Review: Tambascio’s – Newtown, CT

    Restaurant Review: Tambascio’s – Newtown, CT

    We have a saying when we’re out: “Don’t say home, say Tambascio’s.” Tambascio’s is our local spot, truly just down the road from our houses. We go through phases where we visit often, then somehow forget it, only to find ourselves saying, “Why didn’t we just go to Tambascio’s?” I think part of the reason it gets overlooked sometimes is its proximity to home. Familiarity doesn’t breed contempt in this case, just a kind of complacency when deciding where to eat.

    This review isn’t completely impartial, but the statements are 100 percent true.

    We went on a Wednesday night around 5:30 PM, and the restaurant was relatively quiet. We were greeted by the owner, who we know, and a friendly hostess. John, the owner, quickly told her to seat us at Table 23. I thought to myself, “Michael Jordan’s table in the corner.” I don’t think there are 23 tables in the place, so maybe he’s holding out hope that MJ strolls in after a stop at the Creamery and says, “I need a table.” To which John will respond, “Right this way, Mr. Jordan. We have a special one just for you.”

    Most restaurants these days don’t have the owner on the floor or in the kitchen, and I really appreciate John’s presence and love for his restaurant. It shows in the little things, which are geared toward the patron rather than the restaurant like spacing people out so they aren’t on top of one another.

    At Tambascio’s, they have someone designated for water and bread. I’m sure there’s an official title, but I’ll just call her the “Bread Lady.” Unfortunately, this Bread Lady wasn’t quite as warm and fresh as the rolls she delivered. But that’s okay, because we had Dale as our server. Dale is a local who has been there for years. He’s outstanding, professional, and friendly.

    Since it was the Wednesday after Mother’s Day, the specials menu still had “Mother’s Day” printed at the top. That initially made me hesitant, especially because I had my eye on the Paella de Valencia. As my father used to ask when it came to seafood: “Is it fresh?”

    My son, now graduated from the kids’ menu, ordered the Chicken Saltimbocca Milanese. My wife chose the New York Strip and Shrimp Marsala instead of just the lonely strip.

    Dale asked if we wanted to add a soup or salad to our entrées. I wasn’t planning to, but then he mentioned they had a homemade clam chowder. We also ordered the grilled sausage and broccoli rabe as an appetizer.

    We were starving despite having eaten that day. We’re just the “always hungry” types. We went through two baskets of bread: the first with rolls, the second with sliced bread. I wondered if the first basket was the “show pony,” and the second was like, “Come on, guys, this is a linen-covered table, not a flop house.”

    The broccoli rabe and sausage appetizer was delicious. The rabe was cooked perfectly; sweet, with just enough bite and texture without fighting your teeth. The sausage complemented the greens really well.

    The white clam chowder, which I shared with my son, was also very good. The texture wasn’t as thick as a diner-style chowder, which I appreciated. It had a smoother mouthfeel, more like a Manhattan-style chowder, something few places do anymore.

    The entrées all arrived on time and piping hot. After our first bites, we looked at each other and said what we always end up saying: “Why haven’t we been here more often?” The food was outstanding. My paella was overflowing with clams, mussels, shrimp, scallops, and andouille sausage over fragrant saffron rice. One thing that always impresses me about Tambascio’s is the quality of the seafood; it’s a notch above even most seafood-focused restaurants.

    My wife’s entrée was also excellent. Normally, ordering a steak at an Italian restaurant is a huge mistake, like the Goldbergs ordering trout at Beefsteak Charlie’s. But the quality and consistency of the cooking here surpass 90 percent of dedicated steakhouses. After we had finished, John came over to check in. We told him how much we appreciated the food, especially the seafood and steak. He let us know they cut the steaks fresh to order, and that they actually had a new cook preparing them that night.

    The final piece of the puzzle is the price. For both the quantity and quality, Tambascio’s is exceptional better than most alternatives, especially for a nice dinner out.

    We ended the night with two decaf cappuccinos and two tartufos: one for my wife and me to share, and one for our son. Content and satisfied at lucky Table 23, we didn’t see Michael Jordan, but honestly, he couldn’t have made the food any better.

  • Wing Review: Buffalo Wild Wings – Danbury CT

    Wing Review: Buffalo Wild Wings – Danbury CT

    What hasn’t been said about Buffalo Wild Wings, the epitome of wing excellence, sitting atop the tallest ivory tower in Foodom? I was weary of this place for years. I thought it was a hole. A certain kind of hole, the kind that things come out of, not the kind things should be going into.

    I finally changed my tune when I found out they fry their wings in tallow, only to later have my heart broken by Bobby Parrish and his insidious green thumb of approval (or disapproval). So what you’re saying is that both natural and artificial flavors are bad for me? I can’t live like this! RFK couldn’t have come quick enough to remedy what ails me. Anyway, enough of that business, so says Mr. Morrow.

    The recent trend in all these chain dining restaurants is to have a digital layout of the space so they know where to Amber Heard you around. When I go in now, I run away from the entry check-in stand and look to see where I want to sit. I don’t care about what is good for them, I want to know what is good for me. I don’t care about efficiencies or how many tables Karen or Steve has. I’m Veruca Salt and I want it now.

    On this visit, I deferred to my son who was left defeated when our hostess directed us to one unseated table to complete her Tetris puzzle block of placement and win her manager’s approval for “Most Sauciest!”

    His hesitation to push back on the seating choice had everything to do with our hostess, who stood about five feet tall but commanded the Danbury location with an iron fist of efficiency and unshakable determination. Her rolled-up sleeves revealed full-arm tattoos that seemed to carry stories of pain, struggle, and maybe even a flicker of hope for a better day. If wings ever needed a guardian angel, she was it. You just knew she wasn’t about to let a single ranch cup go unaccounted for.

    It’s always hit or miss with the servers. We have had some great ones and then we get some schlubs. Our server today was known as TT, TT the cookie making aunt, and she was super sweet. She even offered to make us cookies next time we came in, but we had no way to let her know when we’d be back.

    We always ask how many flavors we can get and it’s always six on thirty wings, one flavor per five wings. Our family staple is Salt and Vinegar. My wife enjoys Buffalo Mild and daughter Judy likes Barbecue. Then my brother and sister in-law are the wild cards. They check out the new flavors while still paying respect to the classics. No matter what we ate, my brother was getting something later so did it matter, did it ever matter?

    We get sodas and they come in giant plastic glasses and they keep them flowing. Coke Zero or is it Pepsi, then the seltzers. Don’t you ever forget the seltzers! If you are married to an Italian from Westchester County, they always have a seltzer with lemon. No water. Not now. Not ever. And sometimes we just tell them, “Get a pitcher!”

    The wings are small to medium sized and always cooked perfectly. We asked that they come “Crispy”. The cafeteria dining tray we receive with the flavors and a separate tray for our blue cheeses, carrots, and celery are always welcome sights. We knock down the first thirty and order another thirty. There are also some American burgers ordered with fries. The American Smash Burger they have there is what you want when you get a fast food burger. It is delicious and probably good for you. Probably.

    Final Verdict: 8.15 out of 10
    Some of the best wings around. You know it.

  • Restaurant Review: Mangia Mi East – Sandy Hook, CT

    Restaurant Review: Mangia Mi East – Sandy Hook, CT

    Saturday night before Mother’s Day and we arrive at this beautifully renovated house-turned-restaurant on the hill in Sandy Hook, CT. Taking the Missus out the day before Mother’s Day to avoid the crowds and share just a small token of the gratitude and thankfulness I have for her.

    We were fortunate enough to call at 5:10 PM and get a reservation for 5:30. However, when we arrived, most of the interior dining area was sparsely filled. It was a beautiful spring evening and we wanted to sit outside, though we hesitated as the building faces west and we didn’t want the setting sun in our eyes. Fortunately, the front porch area is spacious and there was a four-top right beside the exterior door that provided shade and a warm breeze.

    The outside area was more lively, still about halfway to capacity. There was a table of four beside us that was a little boisterous, probably due to some well-deserved spring daydrinking. One of the cocktails of choice that I overheard reordered was a Jack Daniels on the rocks, which I can only describe as Sandy Hook chic.

    The restaurant location is pleasant. However, sitting outside, there is a construction site adjacent to the porch which you can’t do anything about. The property line of the restaurant could use some landscaping TLC maybe a mow, a bed of flowers, or even a well-shaved bush.

    My wife’s family is Italian and they are all exceptional cooks, so we really need a draw to go out for Italian food. I was hoping for a large seafood entrée like a Zuppa di Pesce with all the bountiful umami of the sea. Mangia Mi does make their own pasta, which is so critical when you have so many Italian restaurants and ever-increasing, inflated costs. How can you justify a $35-plus entrée for dry spaghetti that costs two dollars a pound?

    The wait staff was all younger local kids. They were very friendly and helpful. Our waitress was especially kind and knew the menu well, able to help with questions or assist with a selection.

    We decided on the Roasted Brussels Sprouts with crispy pancetta and shaved pecorino, and my wife wanted the Blistered Cherry Tomato Crostini. I feel like the price point on these was $18 for the sprouts and $13 for the crostini, which is important because there was a vast difference between them not unlike Alfredo’s Pizza Café and Pizza by Alfredo.

    The Brussels sprouts were delicious, cooked through so they were soft but still had a little char and crisp from the roasting heat. The shaved pecorino provided a complementary texture, along with the salty and generous cubes of pancetta. My mild case of OCD kicked in, separating the food to get each bite to include a trio of the ingredients.

    Now, as lovely as the Brussels sprouts were, the crostini was disappointing in the other direction. It reminded me of when my mom used to do cheese and crackers for the daycare kids except I would have much rather preferred those. For thirteen dollars, you got three small pieces of crostini, a tight smear of cheese, and around six to nine small cherry tomato halves. There was no flavor and it was just blah. It hurt my frugal heart.

    For our entrées, I got the Shrimp Fra Diavolo over homemade linguine, and my wife got the Crispy Chicken Piccata with capers, lemon, and wine over tagliatelle. My entrée was good, but I can only describe it as and now I know what it means to say one dimensional. The pasta was cooked well but had no flavor. The fra diavolo sauce was good but again, just missing something. It felt like some red sauce with a nice bit of heat, but I wanted to add salt, pepper, and garlic. The shrimp was also very well cooked but lacked seasoning and depth. It felt as if each part had been cooked separately, and when combined, they weren’t feeling one another  so they kept their distance. There was no love, no sweet Italian serenade on my plate.

    My wife’s entrée was another story. The ingredients were old friends. They had obviously been hanging out and enjoyed one another’s company. The crispy chicken was thin, flavorful, and pan-fried wonderfully. The piccata sauce with capers soaked into the chicken and tagliatelle, with a beautiful lemon freshness dancing around shouting “Look at me!” It had that mangiami (eat me) attitude. I ended up taking parts of her dish and incorporating them into mine to bring out some flavor, and it worked nicely.

    After our meals, my wife was excited to get a dessert called banana bread pudding which she had before. However, we found out it was part of the seasonal menu and they didn’t have it. That was okay because we were content to have our decaf cappuccinos, however we found out they don’t have those either. In the end, we were sitting quietly on the deck and thought it would be nice if they had some light background music, when all of a sudden “Make It with You” by Bread started playing from somewhere.

    The gentle breeze and warm tune lifted us up and carried us quietly back across town.

    Final Verdict: 7/10
    This was our second visit, and I’m hopeful that they will pull it all together for a third-time’s-the-charm experience.

  • Diner Review: Laurel Diner – Southbury, CT

    Diner Review: Laurel Diner – Southbury, CT

    Had breakfast this morning at Laurel Diner, a Southbury staple. It’s a local favorite, particularly with the senior crowd  and as someone who’s now officially past the “middle-age hump,” I’m grateful to be in the mix. I was probably 30 years younger than most of the guests, but not quite young enough to be throwing stones or passing judgments.

    Located just off Exit 14, head up the street a bit and it’s tucked on the left side of South Main Street. You’ll almost miss it if you’re not looking, it’s that kind of classic small-town spot. There’s an overflow lot just past the building on the left; I parked there. The whole place gave me a nostalgic hit: when I lived in Woodbury with my Yia Yia (Grandmother), she’d take me to Southbury Foodmart. I’d watch in a bored glee as the elderly gently collided with one another in the parking lot, politely assessing the bumper damage before offering a shrug and going on with their day. “In my day, the bumpers could actually take a bump!”

    Inside, all the 4-tops were taken, so I grabbed a seat at the coffee-bar stools while waiting for my wife. She had to move the car after parking in front of a neighboring business which I’m sure has to fight for its spots with all the traffic going to Laurel’s. As she came in, a couple near the back got up, and we quickly grabbed the freshly vacated table. It’s tight in there, charmingly cramped and while we fit, we had several knee-collisions. I’m 6’4″, and once I sit, I don’t move. My wife, 5’5″ (give or take an inch), kept knocking into me every time she adjusted.

    We both ordered decaf, which was fresh-brewed and served in Laurel’s own classic, local business advertisements coffee mugs that feel like they came straight from a 1978 truck stop in the best possible way.

    Laurel Diner has apparently won awards, I don’t recall the specifics, but I recently saw it featured in a Connecticut Diner Bracket Challenge, and it was holding its own in the final rounds.

    I’ve learned to ask what a diner is known for before I order, and I’m glad I did.   Our server said the homemade hash and the cinnamon raisin toast were house favorites. I went with “The Kiki” special, which included both. My wife stuck with eggs, bacon, and a pancake to share.

    The food came out quickly, not quite “Greek diner with Mexican cooks” fast, but close. Everything was excellent. The homemade corned beef hash was zesty and flavorful, the home fries were seasoned well and crispy, and the cinnamon raisin toast was a treat.  It reminded me of Cinnabon without the frosting; rich, buttery, and just sweet enough. The bacon was solid, better than average diner bacon, but nothing that will haunt my dreams. The pancake we shared dressed in extra butter and syrup was also amazing; light and fluffy. My wife noted her eggs looked more golden with a deeper yellow hue, which led her to guess they might be pasture-raised. Of course, we’re just speculating and don’t know what we’re talking about, but that didn’t stop us from saying it.

    Price Check

    It’s a bit pricier than your average diner, I estimated about 27% higher but for the quality, it felt justified. The portions were generous, the food was excellent, and the vibe was clean and welcoming.  Big note is that they only take cash, which for some reason I didn’t have that much today and felt like a kid again looking through my wallet and wife’s purse to make sure we had enough to pay for our meal.  Luckily we didn’t have to wash the dishes.

    Staff & Space

    The servers were friendly and competent, without the tired diner attitude I can’t stand. The space is snug, and with the heat from the grill and a packed house, we were starting to sweat a little. It’s not the kind of place you linger for hours in but it delivers what it promises: great food, fast, with a little local soul and a gentle whiff of Bengay.

    Final Verdict: 7.75/10

    A little cramped, a little pricey, but totally worth it for the taste, quality, service, and charm. Would I go back? Absolutely!