The Malibu Diner

The Malibu Diner is of a piece with diners everywhere.

Really? Everywhere?

Well, not everywhere, but wherever there are diners, they are much of a piece. They aren’t so much alike as one McDonald’s is to another, or even as a McDonald’s is to a Burger King, but they are highly similar. Similar architectural details, inside and out, similar menu, similar philosophy.

Despite its name, this Malibu Diner is in New Jersey, not Southern California, though the palm tree design motif one sees here and there is a node to Southern California. This diner is in Hoboken, NJ, at the corner of Park and 14th. It’s only a few blocks from where I live. That’s one reason I like to eat there.

The other reason is that I can get Belgian waffles for breakfast; in fact, diners being what they are, I could probably get Belgian waffles any time of the day, any day of the week. But I have them for breakfast, once every week or two.

The “Belgian” in waffles is neither here nor there. That qualification started showing up, when? in the 1980s sometime. Whenever. These days Belgian seems to be what waffles are, which is OK—though I haven’t the foggiest idea whether or not there is any connection to Belgium (I’ve been told the English muffins aren’t English). But, truth be told, I’d be happy with plain old waffles, like my mother used to make.

That’s the point of the meal, it’s a tether to my childhood, an umbilicus to my origins. I don’t need to have waffles for breakfast two or three times a month, nor the bacon, and the (rather thick and bland) syrup. But it’s comforting.

Comfort is a minor virtue, and if I say it’s bourgeois, then it seems a bit déclassé, and a bit indulgent. Perhaps. But I don’t seek it as a permanent condition. Only as a temporary respite, and reference point.

One need not always go boldly where no man has gone before. And not for breakfast. Sometimes one needs to visit where one has always been. Otherwise, what’s the point of getting lost?

Animals have their daily circuit. And, depending on the animal, and the local ecology, circuits of greater compass, including yearly migration, nesting, or hibernation. The Malibu is part of my monthly circuit.

No more.

No less.