You'll Live Longer With a Lunch Gang

Lessons from a Boca Raton Denny's and Mel Brooks

Even though my life has mostly been spent in Brooklyn and Chicago, I never fail to mention that I also have a bit of South Florida in my story. It’s my “I’m two-percent Navajo,” a way of trying to prove there’s a little bit of diversity in my background, that it’s not all Italian beef juice and pizza grease.

I spent my childhood going to mostly Miami and Boca Raton a few times a year, then ended up living in both of those places for a bit in my early 20s. You can say whatever you want about the state or its politics, but Floridians are good at making living look very interesting. Look at any photo by Andy Sweet and you’ll get what I’m talking about.

I was 21 when I was living there and I got one of the life lessons that I’ve carried with me ever since. It was from an old guy named Harry who used to hang out at a Denny’s I spent too much time at because Boca Raton isn’t exactly a hot spot for a 20-something. From what I recall, Denny’s had (at least) three locations in the city back then. I found a listing for one in Palmetto Park Square, and I did go to that one, but this one was closer to where the old Kenny Rogers Roasters used to be in the map of my mind. I preferred it over the others because it had the most natural light, but also the most interesting characters as regulars. Almost nobody was under 65 except me. There was one group of them in particular who were always hanging out when I got there around 8 or 9 in the morning. A crew of old buddies who all served in World War 2 together. I’d listen to their conversations and could piece together so much about who they were and how they all ended up retiring around the same place. I never bothered them until one day I showed up and it was just Harry sitting by himself. He was the first one who’d arrived that day. I decided to strike up a conversation with him that lasted about five minutes until two of his buddies started showing up. Before I excused myself to let them get on with their day, I remember Harry telling me they’d been getting breakfast together at least twice a week for the last 40 years. “I’ve had three heart attacks and skin cancer,” Harry told me. “Eating with my friends keeps me alive.”

Yesterday I was thinking about the advice Harry gave me over 20 years ago. I was reading something about the Group of the Oblong Table, also known as the Chinese Gourmet Club, which included Joseph Heller, Mario Puzo, David Zelag Goodman, Mel Brooks and Speed Vogel (and sometimes special guests like Joseph Steon and Carl Reiner) eating, yes, Chinese food. The rules, which Reiner explained to Kenneth Tynan for the writer’s 1977 New Yorker profile on Mel Brooks, were pretty simple: “You are not allowed to eat two mouthfuls of fish, meat, or chicken without an intermediate mouthful of rice. Otherwise, you would be consuming only the expensive food. The cheque and tip, and the parking fees, if any, are equally divided among the members. It is compulsory, if you are in New York, are not working nights, and are in reasonable health, to be present at every meeting.” They started in 1962 and decided every Tuesday night they’d get some inexpensive Chinese food and do it all over week after week. All of the members are, sadly, gone—except Mel Brooks. He’s—thank G-D—still around and amazing at 97, and I wonder if part of the reason is because he’s always been good at eating with friends. Just see the episode of Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee where Reiner invites Jerry Seinfeld to eat Nate'n Al's with them. It’s one of the loveliest, most natural, overall best things I’ve ever watched. When you read almost anything about Mel and Carl’s friendship, something about their shared meals almost always makes it into the article. Reiner passed in 2020, but he made it to 97.

There’s another Reiner I think about sometimes when my mind goes to eating with friends. It’s a line Nora Ephron wrote for Carrie Fisher in Rob Reiner’s When Harry Met Sally, a quote from a magazine article she read that ended up being written by Bruno Kirby’s character who happens to be the guy sitting across the table. You know the one, about how "Restaurants are to people in the ‘80s what theater was to people in the ‘60s.” But before she says it, she mentions that she thinks restaurants have become “too important,” and I think that line has stayed relevant since the film came out nearly 40 years ago. We do place too much emphasis on the whole idea of going out and eating with friends, and that can be great sometimes, but we also can overlook the basic meals with friends. I think a regular diner meetup where the food is whatever with friends is far more special than checking out the new place getting all the media hype.

That was part of my reason for being a little apprehensive about eating at Montague Diner in Brooklyn Heights. The idea of the place rests somewhere between a regular diner and a place that’s getting lots of hype. It used to be called Happy Days, and the place could easily be described as “great for what it was” for just over 20 years. When the news broke that it was reopening, the news peg was how “a bunch of Brooklyn filmmakers took over their neighborhood luncheonette,” and the rebirth fit into a trend along with Eisenberg’s in Manhattan reopening as S&P, Three Decker Diner in Greenpoint and Kellogg’s in Williamsburg all being saved from being turned into…anything else besides a diner. I’m happy these places exist, and even love going to a few of them, but I also sometimes wonder if the hype takes something away from the basic idea that these are supposed to be places to go more than eat or, even worse, be seen. And yes, I’m part of that problem since I’ve written about a few of the spots for various publications, but like I said, I’d much rather have these than another bank or shitty weed bodgea opening up.

I went to Montague Diner for the first time a few weeks ago with one of several groups of friends I get meals with on a semi-regular basis. I ordered a seltzer, they brought me club soda, and then the server tried to tell me there was no difference. The eggs were burnt, the fries were fine, and after we left, my friend texted me a review of his tuna melt: “average — heavy bread , slightly too much cheese (I think American cheese is always wrong for tuna melts but maybe it’s technically right?) the tuna itself was good, not too much mayo. Not a lot of flavor.” Then, he added another crucial note: “Picke nothing to write home about. Ha.”

My grade was F for “Fine.” But the thing is that for what Montague Diner is trying to do, Fine is good. Maybe even great. The thing that had me going back there twice since that lunch is that the place is welcoming and packed with people just hanging out, picking at their food, and chatting. It isn’t like a coffee shop where everybody is sitting on their laptop, and whenever I’ve been the crowd is a mix of younger people who want to show off to Instagram or TikTok they’re eating at a place other people are talking about, and older folks who just want to have somewhere to go and hang out. I’ll take those numbers any day. The music is *maybe* a little loud for a place like it, but I also know I’m getting older. Please don’t mind me kvetching about that.

Sure, there are plenty of people who don’t like Montague Diner and all the other places like it. They’ll say it isn’t the same or it’s too expensive. And I’m guessing they’re not wrong. For me, S&P is the best example of a diner/lunch counter getting a second (or in its case…maybe a fourth or fifth). I loved Eisenberg’s and had been going for years. But towards the end, it did start to suck. It was bought by some rich guy hoping to cash in on the IP of a Jewish, NYC deli-type place. Now, it’s a little more expensive, and there are crowds out the door, but the food is far better and the other option was no lunch counter at all given that S&P is in one of the most foot-trafficked parts of New York City. I’ve had about a dozen meals with friends there. None are routine since I don’t live near it, but it’s become my city spot whenever there’s a spot.

I have a few regular places I go to with the same friends a few times a month. My personal favorite is Neptune 2 in Crown/Prospect (depending on who you’re talking to) Heights, but I also have a few friends who know if we’re meeting in the city that we’re almost 100 percent going to B&H Dairy or Veselka. Those are the places I truly cherish, and since I’m able to say Montague Diner fits the bill for exactly what I’m looking for in terms of a place to just sit with people I like and have some food, then I’ll keep going back for as long as I can with friends as long as the owners don’t hate me for saying their establishment is just fine.