Original Article: http://dartreview.com/archives/2005/08/26/on_the_road_with_harry_camp.php
Friday, August 26, 2005
There is no better way to recover from a late night in a fraternity basement, to start off a long day of studying, or to pass a weekend morning than to visit one of our many area diners. New England diners occupy a central place in local culture as meeting places for everything from business to relaxation. Of course, we all know our beloved local Lou's, but occasionally we may not have time for the long lines, or may simply want to get away from Hanover. But don't let convenience unnecessarily draw you to the artificial atmospheres created by Denny's or Dunkin' Donuts. Often discretely nestled into less-travelled streets, several nearby diners provide a personal alternative to West Lebanon's continuous strip mall.
Last Winter Carnival weekend, I braved three consecutive pre-noon mornings and the risk of countless clogged arteries in order to critique four nearby establishments. These local gems should keep your digestive tract lubricated with lard for a long time.
Having a vehicle in Hanover makes many hunting adventures more accessible but can also entail less glamorous duties. Last winter, my Tahoe briefly served as an ambulance to transport Review Editor in Chief Ryan Gorsche '04 to DHMC at 3 a.m. Five stitches and several hours later, we all needed a cup of coffee. In such circumstances, there is no panacea like The Fort at Interstate 89's exit 18. It's always open—a bottomless cup of coffee and heaps of the best corned beef hash in the Upper Valley await you whenever misfortune or a big appetite strikes. A twenty-four hour revolving cast of surly truckers means you're never alone—but it also necessitates a buddy system of sorts, during the wee hours of the morning. Familiar Lou's muffins and pastries are kept in constant supply. This place was even the subject of a documentary made in a Dartmouth film class this past summer. Needless to say, half an hour at the Fort did more for Ryan's morale—and everyone else's—than two hours at DHMC had done for his wounds.
As convenient as the Fort is, you may need a little more variety and adventure. I suggest taking the beautiful drive north on New Hampshire 10 and crossing over the Connecticut River in Orford, where you will find Gilman's Fairlee Diner. Gilman keeps his griddle as clean as the mountain air and his short order cap as crisp as the scenery on the drive up.
The only spot in the entire establishment he leaves free of his strict management is the bulletin board just outside the door. One interesting sign here advertised the opening of Babe's Bait Shop. Several aspects of the poster perplexed Ben Dillon '04 and me. First, the shop was opening on January 18. Wouldn't one open a bait shop during fishing season or at least not in the dead of winter? Second, the words "In Memory of Harley Gray, Jr." prominently fell under the name of the shop. Well, that's nice to found a shop in honor of a loved one, but then who the heck is "Babe?" Third, Bill Gray is listed as the proprietor. Were Bill and Harley married? This is Vermont after all. "Babe" seems a funny nickname for a brother or a father. Regardless of the connection, I assume that Harley was the true fisherman because it doesn't look like Bill knows what he's doing. Later, while touring the bathroom facilities, I overheard one of the waitresses in the back yelling to someone, "Well, you just missed Harley…"
This story is not just a digression. Gilman's is a place of mystery beyond the bulletin board. Without any explanation, the menu lists a "Western" and an "Eastern." Upon enquiry, the graying waitress told me the only difference is that the Western has onions in addition to the ham, egg, and cheese found on the standard Eastern. I boldly chose a Western and enjoyed it for its finely chopped and well-blended texture, but I never could decide exactly what makes onions Western. Gilman's is a clean, bright diner with a decidedly small town New England crowd. Just beware of the possibility for the occasional surprise on the bulletin board or menu, and enjoy another scenic drive back to Hanover on Vermont U.S. Highway 5 South.
The Polka Dot Restaurant offers quite a different escape. Stepping into this diner in downtown White River Junction is like stepping into the past. A historical plaque outside notes that an eatery has inhabited the spot since the 1880s and that Dartmouth students used to form lines a block long to enjoy the diner's inexpensive, hot food. Before transfering to Brown, Nathan Forrest Spence Knight '04 regularly enjoyed the Honeycomb Tripe at the Polka Dot. "Yes, we still serve it," explains the menu.
When trains provided the chief means of travel, the eatery would have been the perfect spot to drink a cup of coffee before walking across the tracks to travel north to Montreal or south to New York. One can still catch Amtrak's daily Vermonter service to New York and Washington, DC, but the diner seems rather passed by time. The staff and the food have lost a step or two. The once bottomless cups of coffee now require a surcharge to be refilled "due to an increase in the price of coffee," announces the management's sign.
People still come to hear the freight trains roll on and reminisce about days long since gone by. One mum regular with darkly-tinted aviator glasses appeared to find a non-local in his booth. He proceeded to the counter and stood. The waitress asked, "You gonna wait for your usual table?" He simply nodded.
My French toast was mediocre, but, if you know how to point them in the right direction, there is hope for the Polka Dot. The local minister was at the table next to mine. When he ordered his French toast, he specifically asked for real maple syrup and a side of melted butter. And to her credit, my waitress even gave me a free refill of coffee. As I was leaving, another regular entered. "Mike we were so bad last week, I didn't think you'd be back in to see us." But they come like clockwork, and you should too. Despite its decayed form, it's one of the truest diners in the Upper Valley.