LadolceVT: The Birdseye view

By Randal Smathers Herald Editor

I took a working vacation last week, which is one of the hazards of living seven blocks from the office. How folks who live above their business stay sane would be good fodder for a psych dissertation. I spent a couple of days hunkered down in the newsroom working on a special project (you could tell I was on vacation because I only shaved every second day and I was at somebody else’s desk) and just hung around the house for a couple more days, tidying up my files there and so on. The highlight was fixing the leaky porch roof, having dodged it by using the line “When it rains, it’s too wet to fix it and when it’s dry, it’s good as any man’s house” until a hole opened up immediately above the spot where you stand with a key to open the back door.

So when Friday morning rolled around, I jumped at the chance to get out of the house for breakfast and a conversation about the arts, especially as the breakfast spot — the Birdseye Diner in Castleton — has been on my must-do list for this column since I started it.

I am convinced that the Birdseye is David Wolk’s chief recruiting tool for Castleton State College. He took me there for lunch when I first moved to town and I still remember bits of his “sure it’s a small town, but it’s a beautiful spot and there’s a great little diner just a couple of blocks off-campus” pitch. It struck me as sincere but well-rehearsed, if you know what I mean … that reminds me: David, I think it’s my turn to buy.

And if the diner didn’t exist, someone would have to invent it, it fits so perfectly in the heart of the village. The owners, John Rehlen and his wife, Pamela Hayes Rehlen, also own the village store, known for its wine selection, and the Blue Cat Bistro and pizzeria, all across the way from the diner.

I’ve heard great things about the Blue Cat from any number of people since this column started, but with two preschoolers, we don’t get out much at night, and certainly not to grown-up restaurants, so I pretty much make do with breakfast/lunch spots, and the Birdseye, a fully restored, ’40’s-vintage diner, fits that definition to a T (although they also have a full dinner menu).

One of my favorite meals at the Birdseye came shortly after the birth of our youngest child. It was a sunny, late-spring day and we went for a drive. It’s a myth that all babies sleep in cars, but he’s one that does. So we let him nap in his car seat 10 feet away while we sat at one of the tables along the sidewalk and enjoyed a lunch out, occasionally calming passersby who saw a baby, apparently abandoned in a car with the window open. “Excuse me, ma’am, but he’s ours and if you could please scream a little less loudly, he’ll keep on sleeping while we finish this … thanks.” Even new parents deserve an occasional chance to act like humans and not just feeding/changing machines for the baby.

The recent breakfast was also good, as was the service, but we were sitting with the owner, so it would be. I had the corned beef hash special (not quite Johnny’s Boys good, although for $4 for hash, eggs over easy as ordered, mound of home fries and toast, it was fabulous, darling … hey, we were talking about the arts).

And I sympathized with the “flatlander” over breakfast on Friday for not knowing what Baba a Louis toast was when it was offered up, having been in his shoes a little more than three years ago.

I’ve been a couple of other times and it’s what you expect for a diner breakfast: Good portions of tasty food, quick service, reasonable prices.

There’s a risk that retro-food can be a little too authentic: Diners, Wonder Bread and Miracle Whip all grew up together as part of America’s infatuation with Progress and the Next Big Thing through the middle of the last century. You can make a good argument that Real Diner Food should in fact mostly come from jars and boxes.

Fortunately, the Birdeye has instead turned to Real Vermont Food, using many locally sourced ingredients through the Vermont Fresh Network. The burgers, for instance, are never-frozen grass-fed beef; the fries are fresh-cut. For one lunch this week, I topped a burger with chili (homemade, not canned, and just a little spicy) and the fries with bleu cheese dipping sauce. Somewhat short of earth-shaking, the latter sauce is a nice option, one of several that help set the diner apart. The Malt Shop selection, for instance, that offers egg creams along with shakes and a root beer float, or a sampling of beer and wine, or sweet potato fries instead of the regular variety.

I brought along a reporter to taste-test for the review (the pesto-and-sundried tomato chicken sandwich got a thumb’s up). I’ll call him Cassius because he must have had a lean and hungry look, as the server offered up dessert and I certainly don’t look underfed. Maybe she just knows two guys are more likely to pie (intransitive verb “To pie,” meaning to order and consume with gusto if not good common sense a large slice of pie after an ample-sized lunch) than the ladies two tables over, who got asked “if there will be anything else?” and left under their own steam without waddling or near-fainting spells.

I was trying to be good, but it just wasn’t fair. What red-blooded male can resist a flirty, seductive line like “How about some dessert, fellas?” For the record, both the cappuccino cream and peanut butter cream are outstanding, rich, cheesecake-like fillings in a flaky, tender crust (not as good as Mrs. La Dolce’s he said, hoping for redemption); it’s ideal before nap time and not so good right before staying awake another eight hours at your keybbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb

Herald Editor Randal Smathers writes weekly on dining. Archived reviews can be found at www.invitevt.com, or log on and write one of your own.