My small high school, way back when, didn't have a cafeteria. It was considered uncool to bring a lunch, so groups of us would beat a path just before noon to the Top Hat Diner in Kingston, Pa. If you were late, you ate standing up in a corner, or were one of eight trying to fit into a booth built for four. Major decisions were about grilled cheese vs. hamburger and rice pudding vs. red Jell-O (no other color was available).

Since then, I've always wanted a diner, or at least to have that feeling somehow transferred into part of my kitchen. There is something magical about them and their steadfast comfort food.

Unfortunately, genuine diners in this area have decreased in number through the years. Gone is Buster's Diner near the train station in Norwich, where the 9:30 a.m. freight would be left idling on the tracks while the engineer went in for bacon and eggs; the Windham Diner in South Windham; and, most recently, the late, lamented Royal Diner in New London. Remaining, and going strong, is Zip's Diner in Dayville, where we now more frequently beat a path to its shiny doors.

The building's suit of stainless steel outside and formica and stainless inside is a pure delight. The counter is rimmed with red padded swivel stools. A showcase with angled mirror doubles the view of pies and puddings. Add a stacked display of those little individual cereal boxes, and the look is picture perfect.

In fact, when we arrived on our last trip it looked just like a movie set, with a large group of guys ogling a new Corvette in the parking lot.

Our breakfast visit was everything it should have been. Service was great. The place shone. By the time we got there, three rounds of breakfasts had probably already been downed. When the doors open at 6 a.m. the first shift of regulars are already waiting for their wake-up cup o'joe.

I had abstained from coffee at home and on the drive, so anticipation made it all the sweeter when I imbibed. It hit the spot, and kept coming.

Zip's buttermilk pancakes are some of the best I've had. Though the maple syrup seemed thin, it was the real deal. The flavor was grade A+ and noticeably free of thickening stabilizers like guar gum or my least favorite, high fructose corn syrup.

Everything was served on thick, white, ironstone china with a rose color transfer pattern. I didn't turn it over, but hoped it was still made in the good old U.S.A.

The waitress sounded out a long list of breads and muffins available with our orders. From the litany of whole wheat, rye, white, corn, berry, bran, English or cinnamon pecan we culled it down to bran and cinnamon pecan. These got our waitress' nod of approval.

When they arrived, they reminded me of the way Horn and Hardart used to serve them, split in half and grilled. The only difference here is that Zip's doesn't grill them oozing with butter. It's their nod to calorie counters.

A rose by any other name is ... well, sort of an omelet. The spinach omelet with cheddar added I ordered was more like a scrambling of the aforementioned. The spinach was left whole and unfortunately remained stringy. It would have benefitted from some pre-chopping. Since all the elements were in place, and only lacking the fluffy outer shell, hunger overshadowed any technicalities. Besides, look where I was.

My cinnamon pecan muffin was really more of a small coffee cake. It was great. The grilling drew out the richness, and slathering on butter put it over the top on the goodness chart.

Michael's corned beef hash tasted house made. I thought it just fine, though Michael would have preferred it with fewer potato cubes. The accompanying skins-on home fries, also were very good. They were griddle-fried, with lots of crusty brown bits and paprika added for taste and color.

Someone fed the jukebox and music played. The available songs reflect the length of time Zip's has been going strong, 51 years.

The eatery was originally located in downtown Danielson, started by an ex-state trooper named Henry Zehrer. The grandfather of the current owner, Kevin Cole, worked there from the very beginning and later took it over. It has been popular ever since it opened, and has seen more than it's share of famous customers -- some of whom would have been the original cast for a real-life version of the Sopranos a few decades ago.

Waffles are crisp and delicious. Topping one with spoonsful of strawberries in sauce and a huge dollop of whipped cream is breakfast dessert enough. If you think we were about to tackle any one of the eight pies on the dessert list that day, guess again. That will have to wait until we go back for lunch. It won't be long; I want to try one of the $2.75 meat loaf sandwiches.

Originally published online here: http://www.norwichbulletin.com/news/stories/20050512/go/2134086.html