Small business is tough. When it comes to writing reviews, my rule is that if I have nothing nice to say, I just don't post. Peggy Sue's, however, delivered a truly exceptional experience.
Peggy Sue's has been on my radar as a probably decent family diner. I figured it was time to schlep up to Tasman. The menu looks good: sandwiches, entrees, kids meals, milk shakes and ice cream.
The first red flag is that they post AI pictures of food on Google. I have seen 20 years of folks posting attractive food pictures with their smart phones, but it has been suggested to me that taking good pictures of food is an art that may be beyond the budget of a local small business. An open mind?
When we got there we saw not a family diner, but a sports bar with musty decor of the previous era hanging from the few walls that lacked TVs. Friday night and the place is nearly empty. No wait staff. Order at the counter. Lonely eyes peered expectantly out from the kitchen. My son asked for a steak medium-rare, and cash register guy explained that medium is the rarest they can serve.
There was plenty of empty seating. We found a clean table on the third try. An entire section of the dining area is partitioned off with a large movie screen to conceal a bunch of random stuff unworthy of a storage locker. I read the decaying framed Chicago Tribune on the wall that documented the Kennedy assassination. The food came out. Mom's lasagna emanated a Sadness usually reserved for a mediocre hospital cafeteria. My chicken sandwich was served on a saucer just its size, to keep it from dreaming of a side. Son's medium steak was served grey. Having met Peggy Sue's actual food, it makes sense that they post AI pictures.
The place has ice cream. Let's try dessert! The ice cream flavors are an undocumented subset of the milk shake flavors, but we managed to negotiate an order. Mom's ice cream had the chewy texture of freezer burn. I had a slice of apple pie that was so humble it would never dream of occupying a clamshell at the grocery store bakery.
I was feeling gassy when we got home. We started on our evening walk, but I had to cut it short and start hustling back to the house. I am a guy with an iron stomach who can hustle very fast, but after a meal at Peggy Sue's, I could not hustle fast enough. We had to do a special load of laundry. Son had diarrhea, too. We spent Saturday quietly recuperating from Friday's dinner.
I assume that Peggy Sue's was once a probably decent family diner, but at some point, the family moved on and sold the place to someone who hates food. Wrinkling yellowed memories of a more innocent time when Americans loved President Kennedy remain tacked to the wall, and there is no going back. read more