South Park Restaurant in Clarksville: A Classic Country Diner.

This unassuming spot on the south side of Interstate 40 offers its lunch specials pre-cast with a selection of side items and dessert to boot.

A Bobby Burger, a Plate Lunch and Pie at Bobby's Cafe in North Little Rock.

The excellent diner near the Morgan Maumelle exit off Interstate 40 offers a good breakfast, great lunches and the enormous Bobby Burger. And of course, there's pie.

Road Eats: The Oasis Diner in Plainfield, Indiana.

Looking for a classic? Check out this 62 year old US Highway 40 staple with its breakfasts, lunches and waitresses that still call patrons "honey." Welcome to the Oasis Diner.

It's All Good at Jimmy's Diner in Benton.

My brother, when he was in high school, had a shirt that said "It's All Good."  It was written in some computerized script that made it appear to say "It's All 6000."  The phrase slipped into our lexicon, and my mom grew to hate it.

Where was I going with this?  Oh yeah, Jimmy's Diner.

I mention the phrase again because the sign outside Jimmy's Diner includes the line "It's All Good Too."  That's a whole heck of a lot of bragging, right?

Jimmy's looks like it's

always been on Edison Avenue on the southeast side of Benton, but it hasn't.  It sits a few blocks from the recently closed classic Burger Barn, in a building that has been there a very long time.  I think it had an insurance office in it a decade ago.

Even when you walk inside Jimmy's, you'd swear it'd been there nigh on forever.  The memorabilia on the walls is aged.  The photographs are ancient.  The place even smells like a diner that's been around a couple of decades.  But Jimmy's is only five or six years old.

I dropped in one Tuesday morning for a bite to eat while I was kicking around the area.  I sucked down a cup of hot coffee while trying to come to terms with the breakfast menu, which featured a whole lot of sausage and bacon.  As in, every dish came with a choice.  There was also a listing for a slice of country ham, which if as epic as I think it is, would be one of those inch thick plate sized slabs... but of course, I wasn't going for that sort of thing.

I did see mention of chocolate gravy and had considered that over biscuits, but then I saw Jimmy's offers a Garden omelet.  Okay, I was good with that.

While I waited, I listened to a crowd that was full of local hubbub.  Everyone in the place seemed to live in Benton, and that was fine.  Folks were happy.

One of the girls came out of the kitchen and asked me that since the breakfast potatoes were done for the day if hash browns would be all right.  Of course they would be.

And this is what I got... an omelet filled with sauteed onions, peppers and cheese -- lot of cheddar cheese, in fact.  A good, hearty three egg omelet with a fair scattering of hashbrowns and a biscuit.  I also got a bowl of cream gravy on the side, homemade cream gravy with black pepper in.

Now, my eggy plate was a whole lot of food, and the gravy was a massive bowl.  And I had coffee.  So, you'd imagine my surprise when I found my entire bill was just seven dollars and six cents.  Coffee, as it turns out, comes complimentary with any bill over five dollars.

While I quite enjoyed this repast, I quickly was warned by fellow diners that I had not quite come to the best of Jimmy's.  So I had to come back for lunch.

I didn't mind that.  What did surprise me was on my return visit I'd arrived to find most of the lunch special gone.  No worries, I'd also been told the burgers were good.  And they are.  They're not fancy, but that's all right.  The slightly charred smashy I got was glued to the top bun with cheese,

and underneath a stack of tomato slices, onion ringlets, pickles and a sturdy chunk of iceberg lettuce kept the meat elevated above the bottom, seedless, untoasted bun.  It was served up with chips -- though you can get it with fries and a drink in a combo.

I wanted dessert, too, and though I missed out on the homemade banana pudding and on the meringue and cream pies (one of which I'd glimpsed in a cooler on my previous visit), I did get a pie -- a nice, hot, powdered sugar-doused apple pie, which was warm and smooth.  There's a sugar free apple fried pie as well, along with sugared versions of cherry, peach and chocolate.

So, that was all pretty good, but I found I was still missing out on the real coup -- the Saturday morning buffet.  Seems that between the hours of five and eleven every Saturday, there's a $6.99 all-you-can-eat breakfast buffet of epic portions, including the likes of chocolate gravy and biscuits, breakfast casseroles, biscuits, pancakes, waffles, sausage patties and links, fried eggs and scrambled eggs, fried potatoes and hash browns.

It was interesting that the fellow patrons felt it important to share this with me.  See, now I know that it's not all good.  Jimmy's Diner may be, but it's not all good that I haven't been for breakfast buffet.  And since my schedule won't let me take that in for at least a month, I've decided to not make you wait on it.  Get on over to Jimmy's.

So I will go back.  But for now, amuse yourself with this garden omelet, bowl of gravy, burger and fried pie, and know that I will soon return to Edison Avenue.

Jimmy's Diner
821 Edison Avenue
Benton, AR 72015
(501) 776-8400 

Road Eats: Duke's Diner in Warner, OK.

I stop a lot of places just on a whim…it’s just the nature of what I do. So on a trip to Muskogee to visit the Rennaisance Fair at the Castle, we found ourselves in need of sustenance. We decided to turn off Highway 64 and see what we could find out by Interstate 40.

The place -- a white building lettered red. Duke’s Diner. It looked promising and there were a whole lot of cars and trucks around the place, so we figured it was worth a stop-in.

We were told to sit anywhere and chose a place next to a window in a front corner. There were a group of guys towards the back sharing a table and tall tales and such.
That seemed like a good sign.

We looked through the menu. I’d been griping a lot about how I was tired of burgers, but the first thing I spied was half a dozen burgers listed on the menu. There were several sandwiches, hot dogs, burritos, plate lunches, barbecue dinners and potato options. We both managed to miss getting a burger -- which I was told later should have been one of our choices -- but did manage to choose two very different things.

While we waited, I found my way to the “Worsh Room” to freshen up. I just thought that bore mentioning, especially because of the unusual sign over the hallway.

We got our plates, and my dining companion started shooting away at his Sliced Brisket Plate Lunch ($6.95). It came with French fries, baked beans and Texas toast. The brisket itself was tender but with little smoke ring, uniform in color and with a barbecue sauce heavy on honey, paprika and liquid smoke. The bold sauce was a good match for the brisket.

The barbecue beans were flavored in-house, baked beans with bits of pork floating in amidst the beanery. Ample servings all around.

A perfectly normal plate lunch, right? Well, then there was my lunch.

I didn’t want to eat too much and then get out in the heat (it was pushing 80 degrees and was awful humid). So I went with a Burrito Supreme ($4.95). First thing I noticed was that the items listed on the menu were, for the most part, not inside the burrito. Instead, the burrito itself was perched atop a pile of lettuce with chunks of tomato, fresh red onion and cheese shreds. It was doused in a healthy dose of nacho cheese sauce and covered in chili. Two of them, by the way, run $6.50.

So… what I had in front of me appeared to be a burrito salad. I could think of no better way to describe it. Sadly, I never saw the sour cream or salsa that was supposed to go with the order.

But… the presentation was so bright and cheery, was it really that important? There was just something fabulous about the bright and deep yellow sauce against the bed of lettuce and tomatoes… it was gorgeous to photograph, so we did, again and again, until I was reminded that we did need to be on the road so we might go ahead and get to the castle while it was still open.

And… it was a burrito. It was a white flour tortilla stuffed with seasoned beef and beans. And for a moment I wondered if it came from a microwave. But it was better than a microwave burrito. Somehow there was a crustiness to it, as if it had been deep fried before being added to the mass of burrito salad it appeared in. And it hit the spot.

When we went to check out, I noticed this board. I don’t know what the story is, but for some reason amongst the business cards and flyers there are keys -- a truck key, a house key and who knows what else. I have no explanation for this. I wondered about it and am still wondering about it.

So, Duke’s Diner? Yeah, a decent stop. They do all-you-can-eat ribs Saturday nights 5-9 p.m. and those are supposed to be scrumptious. If you’re heading out I-40 in eastern Oklahoma and need a bite to eat, it beats the tar out of Waffle House and the drive-thru operations. And it’s reasonably priced. It’s open Monday through Saturday 7 a.m. to 9 p.m. (918) 463-2276. There’s also a drive-thru.

12 Hours in Dinerland.

I’ve recently bemoaned the fact to my friends that Little Rock lacks a locally owned coffee shop that’s open 24 hours a day. I mean, yes, we have the chain operations and such, but we don’t have a local place that has its own soul. Other cities do -- big ones, yes. Little ones, too. And then there’s Fort Smith, which brings me to Benson’s.

I was working on assignments for a couple of my publications. It was late. We’d been run out of Joe’s Italian Restaurant, my friends Grav and David and I had been, after spending hours catching up together. We arrived around 10:30, picking up after parking our cars where we’d left off after boarding our vehicles and heading up Rogers Avenue. The lot was crowded but that was okay, there was parking next door. We walked right in and headed to the only free booth big enough for the three of us, back in the left-hand corner.

We were almost immediately met by a waitress with glasses of water, asking what we wanted. I needed coffee, and I got it, hot and black served up in a brown melamine mug with a white lining. Not an eyebrow was raised at the three of us chuckling away, talking about old friends and Doctor Who and places we’d travel. Come to think of it, we were actually quite normal.

I knew my Fort Smith trip was going to take me to Benson’s. I’d asked for recommendations on my Facebook fan page and two names came up repeatedly, Benson’s and Calico County. I just didn’t know it was going to happen that night. We were still stuffed from Joe’s and I kept thinking any moment now our party would break up and we’d all go home. But David and I see each other, what, maybe every other month at most. And Grav, well, he’d been away for years.

We weren’t the only ones catching up. There were a couple of girls at the bar who kept peppering the grill guy with questions. The other end of the restaurant was packed, all six booths, and the jukebox was howling country periodically. From time to time someone would swipe one of those little yellow signs on the counter and put it on their table. We were curious. On a run back to the restroom (we were, after all, drinking massive amounts of coffee) I caught a glimpse and laughed. I brought it back to the table to show the guys. It clearly said: OUT SMOKING. DO NOT CLEAR AREA. That was worthy of a photo.

Or two -- honestly, it was intriguing. I’d never seen that before in my life. Neither had Grav, and he went back a few days later and got a much better, much more artsy photo than I can manage with my little camera. But I digress.

Benson’s reminds me of my college days, spending time in a diner and pissing the night away while enjoying the company of friends. It got rowdy from time to time, but never too much, and there was always someone standing on the other side of the glass from us, lighting up. As we reminisced, the restaurant filled and emptied around us a couple of times, like the tide and the stages of the moon.

We got a little silly, of course. Nothing like a little shot of youthful memories to convince you of doing silly things, like photographing everything on your table -- salt shaker, coffee cup, silly signs. Our waitress just kept bringing that hot pot of coffee over and over again, never clucking her tongue at us. I’m sure she’s seen it all before.

We finally broke up about 1:30 that morning, having had one of those great seven hour conversations you don’t get many times in your life. We’d enjoyed it in the orange-and-brown interior of a kitsch loaded restaurant that smelled of grease and bread, and it had been fine.

But I had not accomplished my goal. I planned to come back after my usual 6 a.m. wake-up and return to the place. I hadn’t counted on the fact that I wasn’t used to staying up all night any more, and ended up sleeping until nearly eight. Then I had to update Eat Arkansas, answer some emails, get my ducks in a row. I winced when I saw the clock on the way out of my hotel room -- 10:34, the day already wasting away.

I knew I didn’t have to worry about missing breakfast, though. Benson’s offers its entire menu, 24 hours a day, seven days a week. When I once again darkened the doorway it was at the end of the breakfast rush, a little before lunch rush would begin, and I had my choice of places to sit. I decided to take one of the little two-person booths. I also knew I didn’t want coffee. I hadn’t drank that much coffee in ages, and my stomach ached from the abuse.

I did know what I wanted, though, and when my waitress came over I didn’t even have to look at the menu.

“What’ll you have, hon?”

“Chocolate milk. And sweet potato pancakes.”

“One, two or three?”

“Pardon?”

“Do you want one pancake, or two, or three?”

I thought for a moment, then decided to split the difference. “Short stack. Two.”

“All right! Won’t be long.”

She had a bounce to her step that didn’t seem probable, a lightness about her that revealed she liked her job more than she let on. She was the only one working, and though there were some seats open it was still hustling and bustling. I watched her dance on over and pass the ticket to the grill guy, then head over to the fridge and pour a glass of milk. Chocolate was added by bottle, and she left the long-handled teaspoon in the drink when she brought it to my table.

The crowd had changed. There were more professional sorts, some blue collar folks, They were here to grab a bite before heading somewhere to accomplish something. I’d been there a good 20 minutes before someone went and leaned on the jukebox and dialed up a tune. Heart’s Greatest Hits, I’m guessing, Barracuda followed by Crazy On You. There was a steady stream of customers who washed up to the register to pay up before sliding out through the foyer and into the real world.

I sipped my chocolate milk and took notes, listening to the hiss of bacon on the griddle and the shuffle of feet under booths. My waitress came back over with a bottle of syrup and eyed the camera. I nodded and smiled.

A few minutes later the restaurant was all but empty. The ebb and flow of customers had reached low tide, and except for one booth’s worth of people on the far side of the place and a couple of folks at the bar, it was quiet. I picked up my camera and took a few shots here and there.
The waitress looked back over at me. “What are you doing?” “Just taking some photos. It’s what I do.” “Well, all right then.” She left me alone and I found my way back to my seat. I jotted down a few things to remember for later. I looked up, and she was there with a big plate in hand. She slid it in front of me along with a metal ramekin of margarine and a packet of silverware. “Anything else I can get you?” “I’ll be sure to let you know,” I told her, absorbing the sight before me. It smelled like Thanksgiving. I could hear the shuffling of feet as another wave of customers hit the foyer ad entered the building, but I only had eyes for the two 8” rounds on my plate. They were more than pancake brown, they were ruddy and still somehow golden in their simplicity. I snapped a couple of shots, then contemplated the butter and syrup, adding a little and trying for that all-important establishing shot I always quest to achieve. The perfect round of margarine with a glistening crown of maple syrup from the provided squeeze bottle made a picture too good not to tease the tummy. And I kid you not, it was difficult. It was very hard for me not to just dig in. But dear readers, that’s the sort of thing I do for you. After all, what good would it be to tell you about these pancakes without a photographic representation to share? I even turned up the edge at one point to see the color underneath -- a delicious orangey-brown reminiscent of pumpkin bread. Well, the moment of truth. A couple dozen photos taken, and it was time to try them out. I noticed as I finally pressed the side of my fork down on the two pancakes that my waitress was watching me. I stabbed the piece I’d cut with the fork, raised it her general direction and smiled. And then I tried them. I encounter a lot of pancakes in my travels. Call it an occupational hazard. I’ve had some strong on the cornmeal and some that had no cornmeal at all. I’ve had examples I swear came directly from the Krusteez bag. I’ve had thick ones and thin ones and some that are big as your chest. But this is the first time I have ever had sweet potato pancakes. And even though they had cried out at me with the words “Southern Delicacy” I was not fully prepared for the wonderment that rolled over my tongue. I will admit, I love sweet potatoes, but that day I found a new favorite way to have them. They smelled of cinnamon and nutmeg and tasted like someone loved me. They were pliant and perfect and sprung back at the touch, and they tasted like November. I found myself adding more syrup, the maple being the perfect accompaniment to the dish. I was happy. I sat there for a while once I’d cleared the plate, quietly contemplating the dregs of my chocolate milk and willing myself the initiative to get up and do something. The rain had finally decided to stop threatening and actually spit at the world, and the parking lot was growing damp. I looked at my indecipherable ticket, pulled a ten out of my pocket and headed for the register. “So really, why are you taking all those pictures?” my waitress asked. “I have this blog, and I take pictures of everything I eat,” I told her honestly. “That’s kinda cool! How many pictures have you taken?” “About 60,000 so far.” She looked at me a little oddly, so I hastily added “but I’m just a hobbyist. I’m more a writer than anything else.” “Well, I think it’s neat.” “Thank you!” She started to hand back my change, but I deferred it, instead asking for a receipt. Outside I carefully tucked it away and blinked my eyes, turning my head back from looking over my shoulder to the rear-view mirror as I attempted to pull backwards into traffic. The parking lot, after all, is rather small. Later I’d be talking with one of the folks at the hotel I’d met on the elevator, and mentioned I’d been to Benson’s. “You try the Chump?” “The Chump?” “The Chump. You know what it is, right?” she prodded. “Not a clue.” “It’s not on the menu. I hope you’re going back, you need to try it.” “Okay then… I will.” I haven’t been back yet -- I had many other restaurants in the area to check out. I did nearly find myself going at four the next morning, but somehow convinced myself it wasn’t necessary. Benson’s has been there for forty years. It’ll likely be there another 40. I’ll be back. You'll find Benson's Grill at 2515 Rogers Avenue in Fort Smith. They do take call-in orders, but honestly, why? Go have a seat and a cuppa and a conversation with someone. (479) 782-8181.

Dan's I-30 Diner by the Interstate in Benton.

I get a lot of recommendations in this job, and sometimes it takes me a while to get out and try them all. Part of that is just simple logic -- there's just so much a person should eat in a day. There's economy -- can't afford to eat out for every meal. And there's healthy eating as well... I can't guarantee that what I might find at a restaurant I've never been to before is going to serve up food that's reasonable in fat and fiber and calories, much less palatable.

So it's taken me a couple of months to get out to Dan's I-30 Diner. Actually, I did try a couple of weeks ago, but didn't realize they closed at 2pm. Glad I went, though.

I walked in and was told I could go sit where I liked.  A rather thorough waitress came over and took my drink order.  I asked her if I should go for breakfast or lunch, and she told me both were good but the biscuits weren't as fresh as she'd like them by this point of the day.  I happily ordered lunch.

I know, I say a lot of things like "I was surprised that" or "it was remarkably good."  I tend to cheerlead a bit over some of the restaurants I find.  So let me put it to you another way.  The combination of warmth, flavor, and variety in my lunchtime repast filled me not just with food but with pleasure.

There were several choices on the plate lunch special on the board -- hamburger steak, chicken or catfish tenders, or chicken dressing for entrees, everything from pinto beans to turnip greens for sides.  I'd asked the waitress which she'd chose, and she'd suggested the chicken dressing, and she was right.  By gum, it was some of the best cornbread-based dressing I've ever tried, with big hanks of pulled chicken and a little cup of cranberry orange relish served on the side.

The sweet potato casserole had this nice crunchy top of caramelized sugar and nuts on it.  And the Devilled Egg Potato Salad was the best potato salad I'd had in quite some time, very tangy and eggy.  My waitress also brought not only cornbread but a roll, told me she couldn't remember which I'd asked for.  The roll was a little moist and very soft, of the Parker House category.  The cornbread was Arkansas style, unsweet except from what sweetness came from the corn, and made from white flour.

This little repast set me back all of $6.95.  I was disappointed... because I couldn't help but get stuffed and had to turn down a slice of homemade egg custard pie ($1.99).

So I get to the register to pay, and see this sign.  Had to ask about it.  That chicken dressing I had for lunch?  Turns out you can order it for Thanksgiving, $15.50 for a half pan or $27.50 for a whole one.  Same for the sweet potato casserole or the apple or cherry cobblers.  I'm going to have to give that some serious thought.  I'm telling you, that dressing was good.

You'll find Dan's I-30 Diner on the westbound service road next to the Best Western in Benton.  You'll have to take the Congo Road exit either direction to get there.  They're open 6 a.m. to 2 p.m. every day except Sunday -- and, for those who already know about the diner but don't know this -- a sign on the door announced that they're now open 8 a.m. to 2:30 p.m. on Sunday.  (501) 778-4116.

The Lunch Special at Frontier Diner in Little Rock.

Went by Frontier Diner out on I-30 at Baseline yesterday.  I was looking for comfort food, and knew I'd found it when I saw "purple hull peas" listed as the vegetable of the day.  Can't go wrong with that.

Mind you, I was a bit late for the lunch rush -- the restaurant closes at 1 p.m., and this was around 12:20.  But most of the stuff on the lunch board was still available -- pork chop, chicken fried steak, meatloaf -- only the chicken spaghetti was gone.

Well, as I mentioned, I was looking for comfort food, so I ordered the meatloaf.  Spent a few minutes looking around, too.

The Frontier Diner is one of those places that's been around forever.  Its kitschy decor and Route 66 inspired decoupage is the perfect sort of place for a guy working out on a job to come grab a quick breakfast or lunch and head out somewhere else.  I've been before... several times.  I like the "World Famous 1/2 Pound Cheeseburger" and the battered fries are pretty good, too.

This time around, I got that meatloaf, and was surprised not only at the quickness of service (less than three minutes) but the size.  My chunk of meatloaf rivaled the dimensions of a typical brick -- maybe not as long, but a bit thicker and covered in a tangy tomato sauce.  Potatoes were creamy, the peas were fantastic with bits of onion, and I got less than halfway through that meatloaf before I started begging for a box.

Oh, and I had dessert.  Before I really had dug into the meatloaf a couple of the waitresses had asked if I was going to have the special of the day, the Tiramisu Cheesecake, and they talked me into it.  And I am glad they did... layers of espresso and chocolate and cream and cheesecake were hard to ignore, and I finished every last bit of it.  It was wonderful.

The lunch special is $6.29 and comes with a couple of side items and a roll or cornbread (cornbread's on the slightly sweet side and served with Land O' Lakes).  Desserts are under $3.  And the waitresses are nice and chatty.

You'll find Frontier Diner on the westbound access road of I-30, just west of Baseline Road (over by AHTD).  They're open for breakfast and lunch.  (501) 565-6414.