Blue Star Cafeteria

Blue Stars Fell on Allandale

linq: Blue Star

It is difficult in life, being as I am a product of the American Public School System, not to be put off by eating houses who choose to self-identify as ‘cafeteria.’ It is a challenge to walk through the doors of such places, much less to sit and order, and to enjoy whatever fare is provided. Whether you are a fan or foe, apologist or apothecary, feelings and opinions on cafeterias run strong and deep.

The Blue Star Cafeteria on Burnet is reminiscent of the extinct kind of cafeteria, a pleasant place where dwells a druggist and a jerk, and where one would not be surprised to learn could be obtained a passable Grilled Cheese on White. The Blue Star’s grilled cheese is, unsurprisingly, passable, even to the point of being enjoyable, and warrants a mention in a paragraph below, one about warm Family memories. Their meatloaf sandwich is downright good. Their cornflake chicken is crunchy and fresh and served with the right kind of mustard with the right kind of heat behind it. You won’t get a weaselly mustard here, unless you ask for it by name, and demand that they cut your mustard with something blasé and watery. But here I digress.

And again.

In my house, “Growing Up,” there existed a sandwich which bore a name. In most houses, sandwiches, I am lead to believe, are known by their ingredients rather than their status. In my house, this sandwich was called The Usual. The Usual, properly constructed, is a toasted cheese sandwich with mayonnaise and tomato on flatbread which is grilled. This is to be said in a single breath without pause. Flatbread, in this case, does not mean some Fern pita-type bread, but bread which came from a store and is sliced, flat and even. Flatbread is meant to differentiate between this and Home Made bread. I know, and before you raise a great hew and cry, we have, most of us, learned our lesson, those who used to specify Flatbread, and almost to a man, have learned the gentle art of creating the Staff of Life. It is this sandwich which, admittedly with the odd refinement, Blue Star does well.

On the occasion of our visit to the Blue Star, I chose not to partake in any of the above mentioned choices, instead sampling from the Brunch Menu, it being Saturday between about 10 and 4. The Marbled Rye with bacon, spinach and egg, topped with a Goat Cheese which may well have been Chèvre, and served with aged Gouda Grits were easily enjoyed and, if this is the most important thing to you, ample. The Open Faced Egg Sandwich, as it is called, does not come close to replacing The Usual in our hearts and minds, but I enjoyed it thoroughly in any case.

But all this, of course, is dross. As I have said before and shall undoubtedly say again, the food is but a prelude to the actual, wonderful symphony which follows. And what follows is a Toccata and Fugue known by the one, true name of God.

Pie.

So I inflate the value of pie. For this, you pay nothing, and so you receive my digressions on the favorite of all deserts. Need I say more? Certainly I do.

Pie.

My original brush with the Blue Star was because of the direction of a culinarily-minded friend’s suggestion that pie might there be found, and indeed it was, and still is. Their selection is not staggering. Their choices of flavor are not bizarre. Their pie is simple and wonderful, and I don’t doubt that you could get ice cream or something on it, if you roll like that.

Remember. Blue Star: A Source of Fine Pie in a Town where Pie is Valuable.

Two pantsless History tests out of ten.