Yankee serendipity

Who knows from where good fortune flows, whether heaven, or someone in it is smiling down on us, or what? A very early start to the day for a business meeting in the Hartford CT area, I leave with an hour to spare, the sun not yet risen. The plan is to take mostly secondary roads and avoid the hectic stress of the morning commute. Into Rhode Island, I head west on US Route 6, then take the scenic Hartford Pike (RI 101) which diverges in Scituate.

Having lived in the area for 26 years, I had never driven the Hartford Pike. I am rewarded in Foster, near the Connecticut border, by signs announcing Jerimoth Hill which, at 812 feet, is the highest point in Rhode Island. Note to self – a likely place to explore on some sunny, autumn Saturday.

The Hartford Pike soon becomes Connecticut 101, wending through forested hills, small villages, and the occasional farm. Continuing on US 44, Connecticut 74, and I-84 for a bit, finally ending up in Tolland, a peaceful community outside of Hartford. A stop for coffee, still running an hour early. Then a phone call – the meeting has been unexpectedly rescheduled.

Nothing to do but return home, but by which route? I could return the way I came, but something pulls me to explore. The Mass Pike is the quickest but clearly hectic and the most boring. Exiting I-84 in Sturbridge, I turn east onto US Route 20, hungry for breakfast. But franchise restaurants and fast food joints hold little charm. No, I am looking for a locally owned outfit, preferably an old fashioned diner.

Headed east, I enter Charlton and suddenly the vision of a classic “Worcester diner” appears on my right, nearly flashing by, but as no one is on my tail I am able to brake sharply and swing into the parking lot. It looks perfect, and promises to satisfy my jonesing for hot coffee and sunny-side-up eggs. Entering, I find my expectations wildly exceeded.

The Yankee Diner was manufactured by the Worcester Lunch Car Company in the late 1930s and wandered about central Massachusetts a bit before settling in this spot on US 20 in Charlton. The interior boasts a long counter populated with stools, several booths along the windows, a business-like hot grill, and a smiling, friendly staff.

The proprietor, Mike Plouffe, is himself of hearty Yankee stock, hailing from nearby Oxford. Mike has a long love affair with the culinary arts, starting with an eight year hitch as a cook in the US Army followed by classical training at the Virginia Culinary Institute. Mike has held several posts at top restaurants and, interestingly, a stint in Dry Tortugas cooking for Uncle Sam again, but always wanted his own place and jumped at the chance when the Yankee became available.

This combination of classic diner with culinary excellence is the wonderful surprise. Imagine homemade corned beef hash prepared daily from whole briskets, buttermilk pancakes made from scratch, and freshly baked biscuits. When a customer requests Hollandaise sauce for his omelet, Mike does not reach for a jar, but rather breaks two eggs, separates the yolks, adds freshly squeezed lemon juice and melted butter, and whisks over an impromptu double boiler. Voila, Hollandaise!

After a wonderful breakfast of eggs and home fries supplemented by a bottomless cup of coffee and engaging, friendly conversation, I continue east on US 20 to Massachusetts Route 146, then south to Rhode Island and shortly after, home. This day which could have been frustrating has instead offered new experiences, new sights, good food, and intriguing conversation with new acquaintances.

Good fortune may be subject to heavenly intercession, but we can lend a helping hand. If we shuffle our routines a bit, travel a slightly different path, and keep our minds open, even a mundane business journey can yield a day of surprise and contentment.