Like many, I find myself drawn to the comforting predictability of a diner. Scanning the extensive menu is almost ritualistic, even when my order rarely deviates: a simple soup and cheeseburger with fries. Sometimes, I might venture towards a Greek salad, generously topped with feta, or perhaps corned beef hash with scrambled eggs – always with a side of fries, of course. And to complete the experience, a milky coffee and a slice of pie. If I were to count all the diner meals throughout my life, those comforting mugs of coffee, they would surely number in the thousands. My most recent foray into diner fare led me to Old John’s, or as it was formerly known and fondly remembered by many, John’s Luncheonette, a long-standing institution on the Upper West Side. For over seventy years, this spot has been a vibrant fixture in the somewhat sterile area surrounding Lincoln Center. Like so many beloved establishments, John’s Luncheonette appeared to close its doors permanently in 2020, a casualty of the pandemic. However, this wasn’t the end of the story. Louis Skibar, a former employee who began as a delivery boy in 1984 and is now a successful restaurateur with the Toloache Restaurant Group, stepped in to revive it.
The resurrected Old John’s, while officially named Old John’s Diner now, retains the soul of John’s Luncheonette. The iconic neon clock still graces the wall, alongside the art deco light fixtures and the classic black-and-white mosaic floor. Skibar refreshed the space, replacing the dark wood veneer with bright white tiles and extending the L-shaped counter. The name itself received a slight update, transitioning from the more old-fashioned “Luncheonette” to “Diner,” a change that reflects its extended opening hours until 10 P.M. Yet, these modifications haven’t stripped away its vintage charm. Diners, by their very nature, are time capsules. Whether it’s the Formica of the 1940s, the chrome of the 1950s, or the pastel hues of the 1980s, a diner evokes nostalgia for bygone eras. The one thing a diner should never feel is contemporary.
Alt text: The iconic neon clock, a recognizable feature of Old John’s Diner, formerly John’s Luncheonette, hangs on the wall, symbolizing its timeless diner atmosphere.
The closure in 2020 seemed final, but the diner was fortunate to be rescued and reimagined by Louis Skibar, a former employee turned restaurateur, ensuring the legacy of John’s Luncheonette continued.
What sets Old John’s apart, even in the realm of diners, is the coffee. Far from the typical watery diner brew, Old John’s coffee is surprisingly rich and aromatic, a testament to their commitment to quality even in the simplest offerings.
Alt text: A close-up of a steaming mug of coffee at Old John’s Diner, showcasing the unexpectedly rich and aromatic quality that elevates the classic diner experience.
There are those who see a diner as merely a place to eat, and then there are those who truly understand diners – those who appreciate them, seek them out, and feel at home within their walls. For us, time spent in a diner is restorative, much like visiting your childhood home as an adult. Each diner has its own distinct character, yet they all share a common essence. The true purpose of a diner isn’t to be exceptional, but simply to be there. To be open when you need a meal, to have a seat when you need to rest, to exist outside the fleeting trends of time and place, offering unwavering reliability. Therefore, it was quite unexpected to discover that the food at the new Old John’s is noticeably superior. Prior to its reopening in 2021, Skibar enlisted culinary talents like “Top Chef” alum Grayson Schmitz and pastry expert Tanya Ngangan to revitalize the menu. Moving away from the common diner practice of claiming “homemade” status for pre-made food, Skibar’s team – including chefs Raul Navarrete and Victor Rojas Milan, and pastry chef Reyna Vasquez – genuinely prepares each dish from scratch, in-house. The chicken noodle soup at Old John’s is deeply comforting, filled with curly egg noodles, chunks of vibrant orange carrots, and tender white meat in a flavorful, golden broth. And the lemon meringue pie is simply flawless, boasting a buttery, crumbly crust, a tangy lemon curd, and a cloud-like meringue topping.
Alt text: A slice of lemon meringue pie at John’s Luncheonette, now Old John’s Diner, highlighting its perfect balance of tart lemon curd and sweet meringue, a testament to the diner’s elevated pastry offerings.
Like almost every diner burger, the cheeseburger is perfectly acceptable, satisfying the classic diner craving.
But can a diner transcend mere adequacy and become truly, objectively “good”? Not just good enough, or even above average, but genuinely worth making a special trip for? This raises a question about categorization. When a diner becomes so outstanding that it transforms into a culinary destination, does it, in a sense, stop being a diner and evolve into something more akin to a diner-inspired restaurant? A crucial aspect of a diner’s “diner-ness” is its personal connection to its patrons; its value isn’t solely intrinsic to the establishment but is nurtured by the comforting routine and familiarity of its regulars. Introducing someone to your favorite diner can be perplexing to an outsider: This is the place? With its fluorescent lights, generic booths, sticky floors, and unremarkable chicken tenders? Yet, within this seemingly ordinary setting, you might discover one of the best lemon meringue pies you’ve ever tasted, or incredibly smooth, house-made ice cream proudly served by a quintessential diner waitress, or slices of tender meatloaf, completely free of freezer burn. Old John’s, while elevated, manages to retain this essential “diner-ness,” offering both nostalgia and surprisingly delightful food, making it a worthwhile destination for both seasoned diner aficionados and newcomers alike.
