I don't sleep -- that's the problem." That's how Rita, pouring our coffee at the Melrose around midnight last Friday, responded to my inquiry about her night shift's effects on her sleeping habits. Rita, with her frosted bouffant, necklace-strapped eyeglasses and black-and-white polyester uniform, has been working at the Melrose for over 20 years, and can't be a day younger than 65. Along with Penny, Becky and others, Rita is a fixture of the Melrose graveyard shift, greeting regulars by name and maintaining the neighborhood feel of an establishment that has drawn customers deep into South Philly since 1935.
As their napkins boast, "Everybody who knows goes to the Melrose." And it's true. The Melrose is a haunt for people of all ages, from teenagers to senior citizens. As any diner worth its name must be, it's open 24/7, and for good reason: no matter what hour, the place is known to be bustling with locals in search of coffee and conversation.
When asked what a typical 4:30 a.m. looks like, Rita told us, "there's always people -- especially on weekends. We hope, at least." At 11:30 p.m., every booth is full, although the counter is preferable regardless, as it gives one a view of the patrons and a chance to chat with the waitresses and eavesdrop on interesting conversations, real conversations. Don't even think of whipping out a cell phone here -- this is a face-to-face place. Around us, a woman nurses a piece of pie and chats with the waitress, two high school girls smoke cigarettes, a pair of Italian men lament their weeks -- all in unmistakably Philly accents. There also seems to be an inexplicable element of self-segregation at play: both the older waitresses and the older patrons congregate in the smoking half of the restaurant, while the younger (or, perhaps more appropriately, middle-aged) crowd occupies the smoke-free section.
With faux-wood paneling, garish lighting, mirrored walls and actual butter pats sandwiched between layers of wax paper, the ambience here is classic diner. Despite a few idiosyncratically modern details -- such as sensor-flush toilets and plastic ketchup bottles -- it's clear that the establishment, which occupies an entire block of Snyder Avenue, hasn't changed much in the past 70 years. Nor, it seems, has the food. With requisite diner fare such as breakfast platters (served all day, of course), chopped chicken livers and "Lighter Fare" options -- which include a butterfly tenderloin steak -- the Melrose will satisfy anyone's greasy spoon craving with surprisingly non-greasy food.
My steak and eggs ($9.95) was a generous portion, and the kitchen cooked my steak medium and my eggs extra-dry, just as I asked. The accompanying hash browns (which are called home fries, but don't be fooled) are the fairly standard grated-potato affair. My guest's two fried eggs and three buttermilk pancakes were a steal at $4.95. The potato crusted cod filet sandwich ($5.95) was slightly lacking in actual fish, but the side of crinkle fries brought me back to my elementary school cafeteria.
For dessert, don't pass up Melrose-baked favorites like the light, crustless cheesecake ($2.25) and delicious blueberry pie a la mode ($3.15). Though the soft-serve ice cream does detract a bit from the authenticity, it is tasty nonetheless. More problematic is the lack of free refills on coffee, which prompts my companion to comment, "If I knew where we were, I'd leave right now" -- although this is the kind of place where someone might otherwise easily nurse a bottomless cup of coffee for several hours on end. On the whole, the Melrose Diner is more than worth the trek. Forget Philly Diner; this is the real deal.
