Let us make a bold statement. All great relationships include food. Since the beginning of humankind, food has been the connector, the element that brings us together, the source of solving all that ails us to all that heals us, and it is the center of how we celebrate everything. As we continue having Breakfast with Herb & Mike, the food stories come out…
Herb: When we decided to write about North Country restaurants for the July issue of SB, I got to thinking about how many of my memories involve restaurants. Tell me about your restaurant memories. What do you remember?
Mike: My earliest memories are of Arnie’s on Margaret Street. I was young enough that you had to carry me up the stairs to the dining room. Jukeboxes on every table fascinated me. You could play one song for 10 cents or three for 25 cents. You always gave me a quarter. Now, more than 50 years later, we are still going to Arnie’s. Same great spaghetti sauce, same tables and chairs and probably the same silverware.
Herb: In those days Arnie’s dining room was on both the second and third floors and the food was transported in what was called a dumb waiter. In those days the first floor was Pavone’s Shoe Hospital and Hobby Store.
Mike: In the early 1970s you built a camp for us on the lake at Point au Roche. I remember a small diner called Donnemeade located on the corner of Route 9N and the road that led to the camp. You would take me to seven o’clock mass at Our Lady of Victory Church on Sundays and then we would go to camp, stopping there for breakfast on the way.
Herb: I have fond memories of the camp. We spent a lot of time there fishing, cleaning our catch and then frying up supper.
Mike: You must have memories of restaurants you enjoyed.
Herb: When I was a young policeman, I always worked the four to midnight or midnight to eight shifts. The Crystal Restaurant (now Lomeli’s on Oak Street) was my choice for dinner; breakfast was at Andy’s on lower Brinkerhoff Street. Once I became a detective, I would go to the L&M (at the intersection of Margaret Street and Sailly Avenue) with my partner, Earl Atwood. For an off-duty evening out, we would go to the Roman Gardens in Plattsburgh Plaza.
Mike: When I was in my early 20s, I spent a lot of time in the downtown bars that stayed open until 4 a.m. Then it was time to get something to eat. I had three go-to places. The Steakman (now Pizza Bono) on the corner of Margaret and Clinton Streets served a full prime rib dinner at that time of day. If I didn’t want a big meal, I would get in the long line that formed at Jerry’s Subs on the corner of Protection Avenue and Margaret. And then there was my favorite, the Wing Wagon on Bridge Street. My order was always 50 wings, XXX Extra Hot with Extra Sauce.
What I’ve learned over the years is that food is the great equalizer, restaurants are great places to meet and talk and, at 60 years old, my wing order is now ten mild with a Zantac. Restaurants will come and go, but why we need them will never change.
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