The best advice I ever received was knowing how to tell a good diner from a bad one.
“I’ve only been served excellence in a black or brown mug,” a friend told me during breakfast at Angelo’s, an infamous diner for Michiganders in downtown Ann Arbor. After feeding locals for 67 years, Angelo’s was bought in 2023 by The University of Michigan, sure to be consumed by the neighboring medical complex.
Angelo’s is where I tried my first French toast, where my dad and I sat at the bar for Sunday brunches and where I celebrated the morning of my 18th birthday. Not only was the eggs benedict one-of-a-kind, but the diner was a communal, sacred place where time stood still. Even sitting with my friend sipping what was then my third cup of coffee of the day, I still felt like the little girl dangling her legs off the barstool, shoving powdered sugar-covered pancakes into her mouth.
Diners have a long history in New York City and beyond, and there aren’t many people that know this better than Richard Gutman. A self-described “expert on all things diner,” Gutman has been studying the history of American diners for the last 50 years. The original diner, according to Gutman, was a wagon utilized for its mobility and accessibility. The diner design has changed tremendously throughout the years, first expanding to train cars before occupying standalone buildings and finally going through multiple vintage revivals in the 1980s, 2000s and 2020s.
Nowadays, New York City’s mix of influencers and blue-collar locals has generated the perfect petri dish for two kinds of establishments: Instagrammable backdrops and neighborhood watering holes. Since COVID-19, diners have been on the verge of extinction, either having to cut their hours or tap young chefs to reinvent their menus. There is a heroism in salvaging a beloved business from going under, but is it possible to preserve the same nostalgia and integrity?
Moving to New York where diners run rampant, I was ecstatic to find one that would fill the pancake-shaped hole in my heart. Because it was close to my apartment and I could make a reservation — which should’ve been my first red flag — Soho Diner was the first establishment I tested. Something felt off the minute we stepped inside, and it wasn’t just the fact that a rap song was playing from a 1992 Crosley jukebox.
Inside, the energy was stale, and the harsh tinted lighting made me feel like a lizard under a heat lamp. Soho Diner got the mid-century modern aesthetic correct, but there were no coffee ring marks, no men behind the counter calling you “darlin’” and no genuine personality. Hoping the food would be more inventive than the decor, I was disappointed to learn the restaurant was all smoke and mirrors. I was served half of a cold, dry grilled cheese with chunky tomato soup and a chocolate milkshake that was somehow both watery and slushy.
Between Angelo’s closing and my disappointing experience at Soho Diner, I began to worry that the uncomplicated, classic diner was a figment of the past — that aesthetics mattered more than hospitality, community or good food.
I decided to head to Greenwich’s Waverly Diner in hopes of wiping the slate clean and redeeming my impression of New York’s diner culture. Drastically different from Soho Diner, Waverly Diner has been operating since 1979. Family owned, the original owner Nick Serafis handed the baton to his daughter, Angela.
Similar to Soho Diner, I was transported to the ’80s upon stepping inside. However, instead of gimmicky neon signs and poser jukeboxes, I felt the essence of 40 years worth of history: There were tables barely big enough for the entire menu to fit on, and a tattered wooden host stand accessorized with a laminated floor plan and expo markers.
Waverly Diner was everything I could’ve wanted and more — the dining room felt electric, even with just five parties in the whole restaurant on a quiet Wednesday evening. The service was exactly how a diner should be — expedient, yet warm. I stuck with my go-to order of pancakes, eggs and sausage, and was elated when the dish came out perfectly comforting and simple. The pancakes were hot and spongy, and I had enough protein on the side to feed a small family.
Looking out at the dining room, I saw groups of seemingly different strangers who all fit together at that moment — an eclectic mix of people who were able to stop for a minute and enjoy the same cup of coffee.
However, Gutman doesn’t consider Soho Diner nor Waverly Diner one of true, original form. In an interview with WSN, he described Soho Diner as a “retro reinterpretation” and Waverly Diner as “just a restaurant that has the ‘diner vibe.’” Rather, both diners are “capitalizing on the popularity of the diner concept right now” — regardless of how innocent or homey one seems to be over the other. While Gutman focuses on the stand-alone structure and mobility of the building, there are very few diners in the country that take on the same, original form he has researched.
Aesthetically driven restaurants will never go away, but it’s important to remember the establishments that shaped the culture they now exploit. Tastes will change, food prices will inflate and interiors will continue to get shinier, but it’s comforting to know the community of a neighborhood diner will never die.
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