O is for Omelets at the Oakland Diner

New Jersey is famous for its diners…those all night restaurants where you can get everything from eggs to a steak dinner. Despite the variety, most people get breakfast food, deli stuff and burgers…or at least most people I know. Diners were a big part of my younger days. I should say nights, well for that matter to be perfectly honest—mornings, very early in the morning! They were the go-to spot at the end of a weekend night of revelry.  At that time pancakes would be just the thing before calling it a night. 

Don and I still eat at diners. Until not too long ago, Don and I had a steady Saturday morning date going to the diner. I would get an omelet (cheddar, tomatoes and mushrooms) and my husband would get French toast (made with rye bread, always rye). I would drink coffee and we would talk about the week that just past and/or our plans for the weekend, the chores we had to do, that kind of thing. We still go to the local diner, the one in the next town over, and we still order omelets and French toast, though not always on Saturday mornings. It’s often what we do when I don’t feel like cooking.

Is this a rut? Something OLD people do? Say it ain’t so. Well I will…it’s NOT a rut!  A rut is a groove dug without thought and one that you would probably want to get out of if you gave it any thought. Our steady diner diet is not a rut for us but rather a time when we can just grab a bite and talk. It’s an easy way to get something to eat without making a big deal of eating out.

My husband is not really a foodie…and that is to say the least. He would just as soon take a meal pill rather than eat an entire meal.  When we go out for a real dinner its usually Italian or steak, both foods he actually enjoys. He also likes lamb chops, so they may be ordered if it’s a good chophouse. But that’s about it for his menu of choice.  It’s not to say he is a picky eater because he will pretty much eat whatever is served but food for him is solely for nourishment of the body.


Oh how we differ!  Food is an event for me, be it the cooking or going out somewhere…food is something I love to share with friends and family.  My mother always served great special meals for holidays and other gatherings (my father actually did some of the cooking at Christmas) and sharing those meals were a big part of my childhood. Part of the excitement was not just the eating but the shopping, the cooking, and even the beautiful tables set for these events. I love serving up our own traditional (and not so traditional) meals to create memories for our family.  Fortunately the kids are much more adventuresome eaters than their Dad.

It does cause a little stress at times between us…this difference of opinion about food.  My family will sometimes choose to celebrate some events at high-end restaurants and my husband doesn’t see the point of spending the money on food.  Why not just have the meal at home?  Because that is ordinary and the event is extra-ordinary!

But my husband has taught me a lot about food. For one thing, I battle weight and he doesn’t and that has as much to do with way food was treated in childhood as it does my behavior and my genes. For another, he has taught me that I can seriously simplify those special meals and they would still be special because of the time spent with those we love.

Food is one of those things in life where it’s all about balance and it’s one of those things for which, at least for me, it is oh-so-easy to get out of balance.  Getting back into balance once we find ourselves tipping, or worse, completely flipped, isn’t easy. When we are at tilt with anything everything seems skewed. And when everything seems skewed getting back in balance becomes overwhelming and can seem like a daunting task.

At those moments in life it’s helpful to remind ourselves that serving a simple meal will get the job done just as well as an elaborate effort. In other words, take it a step at a time. Unfortunately, when I get out of balance, with whatever, is when I most easily forgot the basics and conjure up a need to create and serve a complicated menu getting myself even further out of whack. I spin myself up.  I lose sight of the most basic of prayers: Give us this day our daily bread and I fail to remember that the answer to that prayer is sufficient.  I need what is sufficient and nothing more.  

Getting back into balance begins by answering God’s invitation to break bread with him and celebrating that invitation with each other. It is about a simple meal that will be sufficient. Maybe even one of omelets and French toast (made with rye bread).