The Nitch

I feel prompted to write about an old stomping ground of my youth. A greasy spoon called “The Nitch”. A young woman named Ruth owned the place, and I will forever wonder how she is doing. The last I heard, she moved to a place like Arizona, or somewhere, back in the mid 1980’s.

I have thought of the Nitch off and on several times in my life, just because I have yet to find a place like it to replace the gaping hole in my heart, and stomach, that was left when Brown Institute moved and inadvertently doomed the 12 barstool café back in the late 1980’s. But life moves on, and so did Ruth.

More recently, I have been thinking about The Nitch due to a breakfast that was served in the movie “V for Vendetta”. It is possible that this breakfast will have a reserge of popularity in kitchens today if the movie becomes popular.

The Nitch served a menu item called ‘Moon over Miami’.

This breakfast dish is called by many names. I believe it’s most common name is Gashouse eggs, an American corruption of “Gasthaus Eggs”, apparently a breakfast served in more then one German Bed & Breakfast. Ruth called it “Moon over Miami”. I have since found out that the reason for this is because apparently the dish was served in the movie by the same name. Apparently the dish has also been in the movie “Moonstruck”, no doubt a reference to the first movie. So now it appears in “V for Vendetta”.

Indeed there is a popularity in Hollywood regarding this breakfast. Seeing that it is a favorite of those who have stayed up a wee bit too late enjoying some fun of all sorts, it is no wonder that Hollywood likes this dish. Would this also then explain the popularity of this item on The Nitch’s menu? Remembering the patrons of the café, I would say that it is likely.

The Nitch was located on 31st and East Lake Street, next to the old Brown Institute which is now, I believe, a supply store. The storefront that was the Nitch is now part of the kitchen area of an Asian restaurant.

The greasy spoon attracted primarily students from Brown Institute, mainly prospective broadcasters like myself, for they were the major course of study who’s classes were right next door. This is how I came across it. But if I recall correctly, I believe it was my brother, who was a student at Brown for Electronics at the time, who first brought me in. After that I was hooked, and ate there often. I was a regular even long after graduation, after I had abandoned my dreams for a radio career in exchange for a life less suitable...but that is another story which I shan't tell.

The Nitch also attracted members of local band groups that lived and practiced in the area. Members of The Phones, The Urban Guerillas, Go Great Guns, and Sussman Lawrence, would stop in to name a few. Those who were fans of these bands also stopped in. Adding the local residents that frequented the small establishment, the crowd was indeed as interesting and varied as one could get. But like a soup simmering in Ruth’s pot, the balance and flavor of the ingredients was a perfect mix, as long as it got stirred up regularily.

While people would go across the street to buy McDonald’s hash browns and egg mcmuffins, Ruth would serve up a similar menu, but a much larger helping and more freshly made, for a cheaper price. We would sit in there, smoke our cigarettes, drink our coffee, and laugh at the poor fools in McDonalds. But we didn’t spread the word too much, for the waiting lines for Ruth’s 12 barstools were already way too long. Standing room only had more people waiting then there were stools. It worked out well though, for the clientele was respectful of each other and did not hog the space available at the counter, and every morning and noon the place was packed, but well circulated.

The Nitch menu was pretty common fare for a greasy spoon, consisting of breakfast always available, and lunch at a later morning hour. Breakfast consisted of several variations of eggs and breakfast meats. What I recall best is my favorite: Screamers. Screamers were basically hash browns. Ruth would boil the potatoes the night before to half cooked, or “Irish” status, and then grate them fresh on the grill with butter for each order, onions as an option. When asked why they were called “screamers” her response was ‘because they are so good everyone screams for more after they have them’. A variation was called “Electric Screamers”, these were made with cream cheese.

For lunch she would have a soup of the day simmering hot in a huge pot. It was first at the Nitch where I had chili made with real tender steak meat. Everything was made fresh and from scratch.

Ruth was the oldest sister of a handful or so of siblings, I do not recall how many she had, but I know it was at least 4 or 6. She cooked a lot in her youth, for her family, so this was a natural step for her. She was a big sister for her patrons also, genuine care, concern, and humor was served up with her coffee. During slow times, between breakfast and lunch, when most of the students were in class, and after closing, a good game of backgammon was played on her counter, with a pack of Camels shared, as the next day’s potatoes were being boiled. It was not uncommon to see a regular with a little time on their hands behind the sink doing dishes in exchange for a free meal. Ruth did not have trouble finding volunteers for the task.

The Nitch was home. When Brown Institute was working on it’s plans to move down the road to Lake and Hiawatha, Ruth knew that a big part of her clientele would be moving with it. No more would students come in for their quick lunch break, knowing that Ruth had their regular menu selection prepared and waiting for them. As her patrons moved off to small towns to begin their radio careers, new patrons would not be coming in to replace them. Ruth made a decision to finally accept the intentions of her long time suitor, and move with him to Arizona.

I will always wonder what had become of her. If I ran into her today, she would be invited into my home like a long lost sister. We would look at each other over my kitchen table with a good cup of fresh coffee, and see not the years that have passed, but a core friendship that time and space has no place in. Maybe we would even play a game of backgammon, but I would have to relearn the game. I don’t think I have played it with anyone else since. No Camel cigarettes though, I left those behind in my past without looking back 14 years ago.

I wish I had one of “The Nitch”’s old plastic covered, red fake leather backed, coffee stained menus. I am just that sentimental.