newyorkette

I used to go Bus Stop whenever I was in the neighborhood, mainly because it was convenient and because one of my favorite movies has the same name. Perhaps because I never ordered anything but bacon and eggs, I never thought to do a T4One on it. Before you get to know Bus Stop, it seems to be the usual, run of the mill “greasy spoon,” but in fact, I’ve never actually seen a greasy spoon at Bus Stop: they’re impeccably clean as far as I can tell.

Yesterday, having forgotten to eat my lunch, I arrived seeking a remedy to my hunger pangs and lightness of head. Sitting at the counter I spied what looked like a tray of perfectly cooked and seasoned roast chicken with broccoli. The short order chef (no doubt feeling my eyes boring through his head as I tried to get his attention and ask about it) turned to ask the usual question: “French Toast with bacon?”—I’d been eating a lot of French Toast with bacon in the last weeks because I’d lost weight (a no-no in the fittings business, if you can imagine such an ironic misfortune!). No, not this time, I grinned, as he feigned shock. I went for the special. It was $6.95, and the roasted salmon next to it was $8.95, looking just as come-hithery.

My roast chicken came (hither) with rice and beans, and a few stalks of bright green, just crunchy enough broccoli. The chicken was tender, the skin nicely roasted, transparent, supple, and bronzed. I’m not sure if they added the extra leg just for me (diner folks seem to enjoy overfeeding me), or if you’ll also get two legs, instead of just one, and a thigh. I’m fairly sure you can ask for white meat, if you prefer it. As far as white rice with red beans goes, it’s made by and for people who know how it should be done.

Today I had perfectly done grits with my fried eggs and sausage, but I usually have it with home fries, which I invariably finish. That means they’re not dry and cakey, like at some other diners. But I’ve said before that what makes a diner is the people: here, we have convivial Greek owners who speak perfect Spanish (who yet appreciate a cheerful “kalimera” now and then), and extremely affable Spanish-speakers, working together like a well-greased pit-stop team (and sometimes at the same pace).

The two languages are semi-interchangeable, with the Spanish-speakers pitching an occasional jesting “malaka,” and Kosta rattling off prices and menu items in Spanish. As is the coffee: there is café hispanico, and café americano. The Spanish coffee is better, of course. Being made with half and half, I believe, it is not good for you. But it is delicious.

Even worse for you and more delicious is their homemade flan, which is worthy of buying, repackaging at home, and pretending you made it yourself for your friends. Hehehehehe.

Last apparent endorsement: the cops eat here (burgers, usually), as does the very cool, rastafarian mailman.

Bus Stop Restaurant
3341 Broadway
on the corner of 135th and Broadway
(take the 1 train to 137th street station).
(212) 690-2150

Posted Monday, October 30th, 2006 at 6:00 am under tables for one: when you vant to/must eat alone. Feel free to trackback from your own site. All images on newyorkette.com are the intellectual property of Carolita Johnson, and you must ask (and receive) express permission to use them or reproduce them in any way whatsoever.