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Super Birds

New York City has been the recipient of an untold number of national chains over the past few years, some more high-profile than others. Even The New Yorker deigned to comment on Dairy Queen (online only, naturally). The Perkins in Harlem? Not so much.

I’ve been anticipating the City Hall Denny’s a little bit, I’ll admit, despite never being in the vicinity. Denny’s was my teenage go-to, across the street from my high school football field, complete with a cigarette machine in the lobby and bottomless cups of coffee. There weren’t a lot of choices for meeting friends to¬† chain smoke at 9pm on weeknight. (Clearly, downtown Portland was cooler but that took 45 minutes on the light rail rather than ten minutes in a car). You might think it was the Moons Over My Hammy that was embarrassing to order, but it was actually the Super Bird, my usual (turkey, bacon, swiss and tomato on sourdough–that’s a club, right?) that generally made me laugh out loud (this was pre-LOL) when saying its name.

It turns out, though, that I will soon be living just five blocks from another impending Denny’s (East New York will get there first, most likely), right on Northern Boulevard, not so far from the now-shuttered, sidewalk seating-free IHOP. It appears that Queens was not big enough to handle the two breakfast giants.

I love me some arepas and chilaquiles, but this is going to be big.

P.S. Did anyone ever eat at a Sambo’s–there’s one left–by chance? I certainly did.

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