While I’m no professional critic of fine dining, I do appreciate a local diner, and in particular “diner culture.”
A while back, I was lamenting the gradual decline, and relative loss, especially in the coastal bend area, between hurricanes and the pandemic, seems like some of the places are going away.
Been some years since I’ve been to Andy’s in Corpus Christi, the bulging, burgeoning township that is a port-hub to South Texas.
Over breakfast, on the way back from fishing, I glanced up.
“everyone has a seat at our table”
When we rolled in, a hostess asked for a name, I pointed to my shirt, and said, “Kramer.” After a few names were called, the host looked at me, asked my name, glanced down his list, “No Kramer,” he scratched something on the clipboard, “you next.” Affable demeanor, don’t think I was intentionally lost, and I was certainly in no hurry.
Island time, with the ebb and flow of the tides. No hurries, no worries.
Musical accompaniment? Old blues tune, “Train kept a-rollin’ all night long…”
Andy’s has twin toy train tracks that run the lengths of the ceiling in the main dining room.