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| Kathleen, Stan, Andrew, Betsy, Pat |
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| Order Up! |
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| Walls are lined with genuine historic items; not the instant ambiance found in other chain restaurants. |
Our driver, Andrew, was taking us to The Nook for lunch, just across the street. This burger joint must not be missed, he informed us, “it’s a historic site.” Indeed, it was a horse barn and gas station long before Kathleen’s salad days, then became Wally’s Nook in 1938 and The Nook later, not that she would notice, her eyes steady on the then boys-only school.
We squeezed into the Barbra Streisand booth (she was here) in the back under the autographed gaze of Guy Fieri of Diner’s, Drive-ins and Dives (he was here too). The booth was next to the wall that hid the homemade french-fry press that you could hear periodically pounding out the day’s fare. The menu was most extensive. . . if you like hamburger. We do, fortunately.
When Andrew’s neighbors’ heard he was going to The Nook, they wanted to come too, and, sure enough, they greeted us as we arrived. We were delighted to meet Pat and Betsy, a warm diversion from our cabin fever. They knew what they wanted, being more or less regulars here.
We ordered a variety of burgers and accompaniments: fried onions, tomato and lettuce, cheddar cheese, cole slaw (rough-cut, wet and very good, not too sharp), french fries (homemade), sweet potato fries (nice break from potatoes) and drinks. The hamburgers came not in normal patty form, more of a meaty mound of well-done ground round.
The service was slow, but we didn’t care. There were new friends, lots of memorabilia and artifacts and pictures.
After a pleasant visit and meal, we said our goodbyes, then our guide directed us to the basement. Down the worn cement stairs, low and behold, a complete bowling alley, taking up the basement space of all the next-door buildings. The low ceiling features plumbing and heating pipes serving businesses above. A small bar behind plexiglass completes the scene. As we stared at this vacant hideaway with old school pin-setters, Andrew commented: “it gets nuts and packed in the evenings.”
We resolved to return and bowl a few lines someday soon, in the early afternoon, then returned to the sunlight outdoors.
“Crash!” a snow clump dropped off the door ledge onto Stan’s head. Wiping himself off, he immediately stepped onto an ice slick and went down on his butt. Uff Da.
Maybe we’ll wait for spring before returning to this St. Paul gem.
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| Andrew, wearing shorts in honor of women who wear dresses on cold days, (really?) demonstrates |
