The Ghost of Diners Past

I do my best as a fellow gastronome to seek out spaces where dining extends merely beyond the natural act of eating and into the realm of experience. Certainly, good food is important, especially when you’re paying for it. However, what has equal merit, at least in the eyes of this diner, is the adventure that comes with finding new places that make life, in its usual boorish routine, a little more livable.

Jimmy’s Lunch was the most visceral dining experience I had in a long time, and I say that with conviction, dear readers. Heed my words, for the faded marquee letters on an outdated (justifiably antiquated) and rundown Pepsi sign flagging whatever passers-by to the existence of Jimmy’s Lunch give presence to an even more poignant message that Jimmy’s Lunch certainly won’t be around forever. I’m glad I found it when I did, having passed by that long strip of road multiple times and turning a blind eye with naïve food snobbery. Indeed, those were darker days. Days when I myself was a less humble eater, unaware of what ghosts gave up in terms of good eating. Luckily, the morning I was driving on my way to buying a good bunch of kumquats I had a hankering for pancakes, and Jimmy’s Lunch just happened to meet the corner of my eye.

Speaking of naivete, I approached Jimmy’s Lunch with the fantasy that beyond its glass door there’d be a quaint, clean diner upheld by some code of puissant eaters who knew food and service, and who put waitresses in cute knee high dresses and doily aprons. What I saw first however, was a bar and stools and a cash register and a grill behind it. What I saw when I adjusted myself and took a seat on a torn stool with fabric held together by tape was a humble place for eating, sharing its space with a maze of dividing walls leading into what seemed like small offices and rooms where one could eat, bet on a horse named Luigi Banzino or have access to a scantly stocked fridge. That said, considering the character of Jimmy’s Lunch, it’d seem unfair to hold it up to the same standards that other other eateries are held up to today. From what I’ve been told, it’s been around for a long while, just shy of 1949; so, it’s fair to say that Jimmy’s Lunch certainly holds its own and shouldn’t be judged by its shabby appearance alone, because there is certainly something more there. Perhaps the character of the regulars, whom I can only assume are slowly fading into the ether; perhaps the stern, yet calm politeness the man behind the counter, in simple jeans, T-shirt and apron gives when he offers coffee in a mumble. It certainly isn’t a place that mirrors the quaint diners in popular culture. However, it wasn’t so dark that it mimicked those cold, awkward places we see on television and know as truck stops. Maybe, in my limited experience of eating in these sorts of spaces Jimmy’s Lunch is what a diner really should look like. An attestation to what diners used to be. A space where beyond its torn blue booths, chipped checkered floor and curling plastic, mock wood trims, some old cooking masters of yesteryear and milkshakes take arms against a sea of food troubles, where modernity has led to diners being nothing more than restaurant chains. If there is anything to say about Jimmy’s Lunch it certainly is that it is rare, and for the most part, slowly fading out of existence lest I, my dear readers, convince you to go and dine there.

Mindful of the vibrations under my stool, caused no doubt from a combination of electricity and traffic passing by in the outside world, I read the menu earnestly. Amongst Jimmy’s emerald green walls, its metallic, diamond patterned back-splashes and wood paneled archways, I made note of the newspaper clippings, old wedding photos and celebrity posters dotting the walls, as well as the old novelty placards of cartoon characters stating the menu options in captive word bubbles. There were the obvious clichéd elements of diners one popularly sees elsewhere today, overshadowed by the clientele of blue collars. Still, something in the place told me it was invaluable if only for its history, so much so that I dared not take a picture with my camera for fear of encroaching on the comfort taken by the men who sat quietly in their own seats deep in whatever business or small talk they immersed themselves in. If there’s an urge to find out what it looks like, you’ll just have to go yourself, dear reader.

My commitment to a stack of pancakes was met with dismay by the cook who told me it was a bad idea, claiming that they only ever turn out black. Thus, having never personally mastered the art of making decent French toast I asked for a stack with some sausages, conveniently the most expensive thing on the menu, but very far from breaking the bank. A humble 6.95. Toast was the cheapest option at 2.25, and if you’re getting technical: jam, a mere .15 cents. Breakfast isn’t your only option either; Jimmy’s is open daily from 6 a.m. to 1 p.m. (except Sundays) so lunch is obviously a choice either in the form of hamburger, fries or grilled sandwich (and eggs and bacon, of course). And I’d be hard pressed for words to not at least mention that they did of course offer milkshakes at 2.75 a glass.

I waited patiently for my meal having the feeling I didn’t have much of a choice. The place wasn’t busy, but intuition told me that even if it was, the lone cook at the grill still would have taken his time making my meal and making small talk with the regulars, so regular I might add that they got their own coffee from behind the counter as well as condiments, usually after giving the cook a good pat on the back.

Jimmy’s Lunch certainly has a community, and it seems its success comes from its openness between cook and customer, unlike the staunch service one expects to see in the usual restaurant environment where the motivation for friendliness is a good tip. I couldn’t quite wrap my head around it, but it seemed Jimmy’s no longer needed the dynamic.

I’d be lying if I said my meal was out of this world. Considering the circumstance however, it did hit the spot. With four stacked pieces of French Toast, four breakfast sausages and a quartered piece of tomato, I like to assume to balance the saltiness of the meat (probably not planned), I met my meal with a great deal of elation. I was given a large slab of butter on a separate plate on the side and the communal syrup bottle no doubt touched by hundreds of hands before me. Flavours were familiar, my French toast embodied the sweet cinnamon character of so many before it. Each piece however had an amazing amount of body, not pressed at all in the process of their creation, which enabled them to soak up appreciated amounts of butter and syrup, and which certainly would explain my full stomach by the end of the meal.

But what made my meal so enjoyable was its familiarity, those feelings of nostalgia registered by the flavours I had tasted so many times in happy breakfasts before. What more can one expect when eating something so every day in a place as modest as Jimmy’s Lunch? The food wasn’t bad, and its ability to fill my ever expanding stomach impressive. My only regret was that I was too full to try a milkshake, or anything else, especially with such low prices. I can only hope that you will do it for me, and in the process tell me what familiar memories the flavours of Jimmy’s Lunch stir up for you. I can only imagine.

Coffee: 1.25

French Toast & Sausage: 6.95

Total (with tip): 11.27

Cash only

Jimmy’s Lunch

Open: Mon.- Sat. 6 am- 1pm; Sun. 7 am- 1pm.

(519) 743-4945

297 Victoria Street North Kitchener,

ON N2H 5E1 

Tweet