It came recommended by the camp hosts plus local diners are almost always a treat; or at least can be counted on for a memorable experience.  This one was no exception.

It is classic diner; tile floor and bare tables with gigantic bottles of ketchup and hot sauce on every one.   Remnants of hot-oil smoke film that just won’t quite wash off cling to windows and pictures.  We obediently avoided the “Reserved for Truckers” table and claimed a couple seats. Kent ordered “the standard” a ½ pound burger with the works.  There is just something about a burger fried on a flatiron grill.  My bowl of New England Clam Chowder seemed a bit out of place for here but it was delicious as well.  So much for the yummy part.­

The memorable part. The mouse that darted out of the back hall and settled in to scavenge under the table next to ours all through lunch.  Thankfully I had my back to him.