I spent this weekend in Fort Wayne, my hometown, visiting with family. Every trip there, I plot to sneak away from everyone to enjoy some of the Fort Wayne that I miss. Mainly, my old favorite thrift stores. Like almost every trip, my plot was scrapped in order to squeeze in as much time as possible with my loved ones that I do not see nearly enough of.
I suppose I should be thankful that I enjoy hanging out with my family enough to pass up thrifting.
I did have the pleasure of visiting a Fort Wayne landmark this time around- Fort Wayne's Famous Coney Island. The little diner-style hot dog dive has been in business since 1914, and nothing on the short menu costs more than $2.50 (a hamburger). As their name suggests, the place is famous for their coneys- a thin dog on a steamed bun topped with Cincinnati style chili, chopped onions, and a line of yellow mustard.
This is the type of place where customers use the back entrance and are allowed to walk through the kitchen to get to the dining room. After descending a few wooden stairs, the path takes you past giant pots of chili simmering on the stove with handmade signs warning, "HOT!"
Although I am sure I ate at Coney Island several times during my childhood in Fort Wayne, the time that sticks out in my memory is a late night visit with my dad in my pre-vegetarian days. We sat near the front and made up stories about the large table of large men in the back and their adventures in the Russian Mafia. Perhaps I was his designated driver that night...
Point is, this is one of those places that could not be anywhere else. It feels exactly like Fort Wayne, and full of people who appreciate the connection to a place and tradition, even if it happens to be something as seemingly simple as a hot dog joint.
I certainly did appreciate it today.
this rules.
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