There's virtually only one thing you can't get in Pawtucket's Modern Diner that you could get in all those traditional diners that once dotted the byways of America -- second-hand smoke. Here no blue curl will drift over from the stool next to you. Signs declare the Modern to be "a smoke-free establishment." In spite of such a departure, this remains a place where you can dig into just about any kind of retro grub that has ever clogged an artery. Diners remain the only places where guilt-plagued Boomers know they can get liver and onions, that staple of cruel 1950s mothers.

All of this is a big deal in Rhode Island. After all, it was in Providence that the very concept of the diner originated. In 1872, Walter Scott's horse-drawn canteen wagon clopped the cobblestones to feed night workers pre-prepared food when regular eateries were closed. It's here that the long-delayed American Diner Museum is planning to open, on Providence's harbor.

Since 1941, Modern Diner has been serving the original fast food, before McDonald's set the rules and gave the Italians and their Slow Food Movement so much to complain about. And in 1978 this blue-collar boîte was the very first diner to gain entry to the National Register for Historic Places. (In what other state can reading local history trigger heartburn?)

A small hungry mob, a half-dozen of us, swarmed up to the maroon and cream rounded contours of the diner. The original "building" is a Sterling Steamer, popular in the '30s and '40s, which was moved from downtown Pawtucket in 1985. It was expanded four years later by the addition of the "depot room," with more tables and counter stools. The narrow hallway contains various bragging rights awards and framed reviews, for those milling about on the weekend mornings when lines are sometimes long. (Breakfast and lunch only, seven days a week.)

Inside the original section, there are ceramic tile walls, a curved tin ceiling, and Art Deco-esque touches, such as a teardrop jukebox speaker high at one end. Formica rules. The menu doesn't trifle with us. We're talking meat and potatoes here. Homemade beef stew ($4.25). Corned beef and cabbage ($6.20) on Thursdays. Burgers and hot dogs anytime. The biggest ticket is $7.95 for a 10-ounce Delmonico steak. The Modern has a full liquor license, not just for wine and beer, so if you want to wash down your chili dog ($2.85) with a shot of Old Red Eye, feel free.

The lunch menu is selective rather than expansive -- mostly sandwiches and burgers, with up to 11 platters, depending on the day. The latter ranges from the obligatory meat loaf ($6.20) to the venturesome, for a diner, chicken almondine ($7.10)

Breakfast is served all day, and in the past Johnnie and I have found these offerings the best bets. The diner's "Famous Jimmie Gimme" ($3.95) poached eggs, are time-consuming to prepare, so they're available only before 11 a.m., after which it's a madhouse. They're served on an English muffin and topped with tomato slices, bacon, and a choice of melted cheese. Home fries are extra, but only a buck. A tomato-pesto-mozzarella omelet ($6.95) and pumpkin-almond-raisin pancakes, advertised on a blackboard, sounded good.

The bacon on two orders at our table was meaty and crisp, always a good sign. The 10-year-old among us had scrambled on a bagel and no complaints. Two of us had club sandwiches ($5.10): turkey with enough of the main ingredient to elicit smiles, and corned beef, ordered by someone who lives nearby and usually has this when he comes here. The sandwiches came with fries that are on the thin side, thus crispier than thick ones. Johnnie likes tuna melts and pronounced the Modern's "generous and tasty," unlike the bland versions she's had elsewhere.

When I sipped a spoonful of the soup of the day ($1.65/$1.90) next to me, I wished I'd ordered some. Never mind the title ingredient -- kale -- and carrot chunks and plenty of linguica, the broth had an intriguing sweetness. The mushrooms on a six-ounce burger ($3.25) were fresh and cut thick.

My open-faced roast beef sandwich ($5.10) was the loser of the lot. There was an interestingly seasoned -- though not herbed -- stuffing as well as mashed potatoes, but the beef was a little gristly and the peas were dried up past edibility. I didn't finish, nourished instead by my memories of past meals here.

Yes, when you think about it, you don't come to a place like Modern Diner just for the food. I think the next time I'm feeling nostalgic, I'll reach for their take-out menu and reminisce while I nibble a tofu burger.

Bill Rodriguez can be reached at billrod@reporters.net.

Issue Date: April 12 - 18, 2002