Horn Bar

Mom says, if you can’t say something nice……

Last Friday night, Debbie and I wanted to go out to dinner,
and I’d been thinking about this bar/restaurant I’d heard about
in historic downtown Noblesville.  I was even thinking I’d been there
before with my brother, but that could have been in a past life.

But whether or not I’d been there, I could’ve sworn I’d heard they had
great ribs, and I really believed the sign that touted "Syd’s Fine Food".

I was thinking it was a little like Bonge’s.  Old, historic building and bar,
re-invented as a nice, or decent restaurant. 

The brass plaque out front says that it was built and opened as a bar
in 1889, mainly to serve as a respite for the rail travelers getting off the
train that traveled down the tracks that still run North through the middle
of a main downtown street past old and restored City Hall.

I think the old drunk guy singing in the country trio up front as we were leaving
got off one of those early trains, and never left.

Once I got past the expectation of Syd’s having fine food, I didn’t stress so much
that my dinner was cold, and my ribs and Debbie’s tenderloin (as big as your head)
were as bland as you can imagine.  The lasting impression was that Syd’s is a
"local bar" that happens to serve food.  It might have helped if the ribs had been
as smoky as the bar, but next time I’ll just get the "bar burger".

It seemed like there were alot of familiar faces and friends sharing a Friday night
in their favorite local spot.  They just weren’t familiar to us, so we people-watched
for a little while, and eventually made our way onto Logan Street, and landed a block
away at a local brewpub, which appeared to be the next generation’s "local spot".

We finished the evening at their bar, enjoying pints of the local wheat beer, as well as,
the Raspberry Bourbon Barrel Oatmeal Stout, all brewed in the room behind the bar.

In the end, we actually enjoyed both local establishments.  We just had different initial
expectations going in for each place.  But for all the times we’ve chosen to eat at
"TG-O’ChiliTuesBee’s", it felt good to be spending our money in the local spots.

Next time, we’ll introduce ourselves to the regulars. 

I remember one time I went to Burger King…..wait, that was yesterday.

Aw geez, I need to stop thinking about food.

The Toast, Anderson, Indiana, circa 1951 (still displaying the original sign)

Well, continuing our food theme this month, Mom, Dad and I ate dinner at The Toast  in downtown Anderson tonight.  I’d like to wax nostalgic about its history, but to be honest, I ate lunch there once w/ Zookie to talk fantasy football nearly 20 years ago, and Mom & Dad started eating post-church breakfast there a few years ago, but outside of that, I had no idea it had been around since 1951.

It did, somehow, manage to survive and thrive without my support for 56 years, so somebody must have been dining there regularly.  Maybe your parents did.  People have to eat.

As I was finishing off my Patty Melt, I gazed out the window, and spotted the now shuttered State Theater, site of our AHS Class of 1979 25th class reunion.  Next to the State Theater, I spotted the Fraternal Order of Eagles building, and remembered that the Knights of Columbus building is next to The Toast.  The only time I had entered either place was in 1994 when the Smith family hosted a wake after Bigg Smitty’s funeral. 

I commented to my dad that service organizations, such as the F.O.E., K. of C., Shriners, Elks Club, and the Free Masons would probably be defunct within 20 years, because his generation was the last one to embrace such organizations, and I can’t think of one friend my age who is active in anything like that, unless  you count guys who join the Rotary Club for the business networking, and that is mostly insurance and car guys.  Not to knock the Rotary Club, as I was the Rotary Club student of the month in March of 1979, and that was a very good lunch.

I’m trying to remember where we had lunch that day…..

"The Rotary Club meets here on the third Wednesday of each month at noon."

I wonder if it was at The Toast?

Mom and Dad ate at Bonge’s tonight in celebration of their 53rd wedding anniversary. http://www.bongestavern.com/

(yeah, I know;  my blog has become "The Traveling Diner Guy" on the Food Network.)

I think they went to St. Elmo’s Steakhouse in downtown Indy last year, or the year before, and they had thought of going to its new sister restaurant, Harry and Izzy’s, but decided to try Bonge’s instead.  Mom enjoyed the famous Perkinsville Pork, and Dad had a NY Strip Steak.  I’m pretty sure he did not get a dollar longneck bottle of beer, like we used to on Thanksgiving night in high school.

Bonge’s started out as a hardware and dry goods store in 1837, and the history page, and the side of the building tell us that it turned into a restaurant in 1934.  I thought I’d heard growing up that it had been illegally operating as a speakeasy during Prohibition, but I haven’t read that anywhere, except here.

But it may as well have been a speakeasy in the late 1970’s, because it was an Anderson tradition for many high school age kids, such as myself, to gather at Bonge’s after Turkey dinner, and fill the tiny one room bar shoulder to shoulder, and partake of the dollar longnecks that would have been difficult to find back in Anderson, especially at our age.  I went there for a few post-Turkey gatherings until I graduated, and didn’t hear much about Bonge’s until around 1999, when a reknowned Indy chef transformed it into a highly touted multi-star "Indy-fringe" restaurant.  I joined a large birthday group there a few summers ago, and enjoyed the full range of the Bonge’s experience, including tailgating in the parking lot, while awaiting our table for twelve.

It seems like an urban myth, but I could swear that I remember seeing the sardine cans nailed to the wooden tabletops for those who chose to smoke back in the 1970’s.  Fire nearly consumed the building a few years ago, so I’d imagine the 160 year old joint is non-smoking now, and Dad didn’t see the sardine cans when he was there tonight.

But I’m told that the long old wood bar is original, and the Perkinsville Pork is outstanding, and Dad was only four years old when Bonge’s opened as a restaurant, so I’m glad he and mom finally got to eat dinner there at least once in this lifetime. 

 (click picture to enlarge)

my six year old nephew Zack loves multi-pocket cargo shorts.  The more pockets, the better.   I think he prefers ten pockets or more.   I’m not sure what he has to put in them, but he’s all about the pockets.

I thought of this as I threw on a good pair of my own cargo shorts (twelve pockets, thank you) to go out to eat with mom and dad tonight.  I wasn’t too stressed about getting dressed up, because we were on our way to Gene’s Root Beer Stand and Drive-In.   The Lemon Drop last week, and Gene’s this week.  We are livin’ the good life.  

I can’t say that I have a wealth of childhood memories of being car-hopped at Gene’s, but I’ve always enjoyed a good drive-in dog and root beer, and mom and dad have as well.  Seems like we should have been sitting in a 1957 Chevy Belair, but we were comfortable in Dad’s 2006 minivan, and I was able to stretch a leg out with the auto sliding side door wide open, while I chugged a chilled mug of  Gene’s finest, and ate my coneys.  Our girl even brought me an unsolicited free refill.  Nice.    There was a time when the root beer was transported to the cars on roller skates, but that time has passed, at least at Gene’s, although it’s entirely possible that our girl spent some time on skates in her distant youth.

While we enjoyed our dining experience, dad retold a story from this drive-in last summer.

Apparently, mom and dad had come to Gene’s for lunch one day last summer.   When they got home, dad discovered that his money clip was missing, which might not have been that big a deal, except that it had belonged to his dad, so it was really important to find it.  After a thorough search of the van, he decided that he must have set it on the console of the van as he paid, and it must have gotten wadded up in hotdog wrappers, and thrown into Gene’s trash.   So they drove back up to Gene’s, explained the predicament, and dad used a borrowed pair of disposable cooking gloves and some extra trash bags to sort through the trash can closest to their parking spot.  He found his trash, though I’m still uncertain how he recognized it, but the clip was not buried within.  After some time, and ketchup to the elbows, they gave up, replaced the trash, and drove home, disappointed.

When dad got back home, he thought it best to change out of his trash picking clothes, and that is when he found my Grandpa Ora’s money clip in one of the lower pockets of his brand new, first-time worn cargo shorts.  (Six pockets, if you’re scoring at home.)

My six year old nephew Zack loves multi-pocket cargo shorts.     

My dad, not so much.   I’m not sure I’ve seen him wear them since then.

But he did use grandpa’s money clip to pay our non-skating root beer girl tonight at Gene’s.

Mom and Dad are celebrating their 53rd wedding anniversary tomorrow, September 5th, and they haven’t decided where they are going out to eat, but I told them they would be hard pressed to beat tonight at Gene’s.   Unless they go to the Lemon Drop.

 (click picture to enlarge)

I ate dinner with Mom & Dad at the Lemon Drop tonight.

That tiny diner has been there since 1954, and although I grew up in Anderson, I’d never set foot in there until tonight.  Debbie says that her dad ate there the day Mike Lemon opened the doors in January of 1954.  I’m not sure what he ate, but odds are, it was a burger off the same flattop grill I got my double cheeseburger (on white toast) from tonight.  I couldn’t believe how small the place is, but I suppose it is spacious by 1954 standards, although, I don’t think anyone was dancing by the jukebox on opening day.

I suppose the oldest restaurant in Anderson served many General Motors employees over the years, due to its close proximity to many of the plants.  I’m not sure that the Mounds Mall across the street has helped it much.  I think the mall will close before the Lemon Drop will.  I think it almost did a couple times.   The Lemon Drop seems to have survived the exodus of GM from Anderson, but looking around the diner tonight, I wonder if its charm will translate to the next generation that doesn’t share a history with it.   Hard to predict, but then, I’m only six years younger than the diner, and granted, I’ve been living out of state since 1983, but I only today discovered "the Drop".

Then again, as we settled in at the horseshoe-shaped counter, I noticed a family of five sitting in the corner, and  I thought that, perhaps, I was witnessing the culinary passing of the fork to a next generation.  The three young boys seemed to be having a good time, and I think they finished their burgers, if not most of their fries.

I hope the Lemon Drop is still around when those boys decide to take their families out to eat in twenty years, or so.   I know that this young boy certainly enjoyed his dinner with his parents at the Lemon Drop tonight, even at the ripe old age of forty-six.

Maybe we’ll have breakfast at "The Toast" tomorrow morning.

Or better yet, this fall we’ll eat at the Triple XXX root beer stand and family restaurant in Lafayette, Indiana, near Purdue, where my mom’s mom used to flip and grill burgers in the late 1940’s.

http://www.triplexxxfamilyrestaurant.com/index.html

I just love eating out in nice restaurants.