There’s a diner perched on the cliffs of Ft Lee, NJ, overlooking the Hudson River, George Washington Bridge and the skyline of Manhattan. It’s an unassuming establishment, but the locals love it dearly.
They specialize in the fare of lunch; soups and salads and (especially) sandwiches.
Here Reubens and Clubs are both so simple and so savory as to be almost paradoxical.
Long before farm-to-table or artisan foods found their way into the popular vernacular, the proprietor of this diner understood the near sacred importance of provenance and preparation of meats, cheeses, vegetables, herbs and spices. Without fanfare he sought and found ingredients that gave their food a singularity of character. And almost unawares, they calibrated perfect proportions and parts.
Call it happenstance, but the folks of Bergen County knew it was truly sublime.
One such item on the menu was their BLT. Down 4 from the top on their sandwich list, one could nearly fail to notice it whatsoever. But, having tasted the tang of sourdough and mayo awash in the sweet pop of tomato, crisp butter lettuce and etherial applewood bacon, one could not henceforth overlook it easily. If not a miracle, it was at least a phenomenon. Continue reading “BLT”
Matthew Podszus 