Poodle Dog

Where: 1522 54th Ave. E., Fife, 253.922.6161

Hours: Open 5:30 a.m. daily,  till 10 p.m. Sunday-Thursday and till 11 p.m. Friday and Saturday

Cuisine: Classic American diner fare

Scene: Small-town diner, family-friendly with separate bar/lounge

Drinkies: Full bar, milkshakes, standard non-alcoholic beverages

Prices: $3.95-$16.99

ANNOUNCER: The boys have decided its time to visit restaurants that are veterans of the local gastro scene. That phrase "an oldie but a goody" comes to mind and applies to the Poodle Dog Restaurant in Fife. It's not fancy, and it doesn't claim to be. It's not cutting-edge gourmet, and it's not sorry about that. It's a classic diner and proud of it. The Fife landmark does American cookin' just fine - Monte Cristo sandwich, chicken fried steak, peanut butter pie, burgers, milkshakes, chef salad, two egg breakfast, spaghetti. Loyal regulars have frequented the place for meals at sunrise to sunset for years, some for decades. The lounge has seen a few celebrities, too. Glen Miller and Louis Armstrong most notable.

JAKE: When we walked in the dining room was empty; four gentlemen sat at the counter. A friendly waitress hustled over to seat us.  Sunday night is obviously not a busy time for the corner of Pacific Highway and 54th Avenue. That suited us fine. The menu was massive - all-American, old-school dishes. Think Blue Plate specials.

JASON: I'm thinking anyone born before 1940 would love this place. I'm glad I wore my best work boots. And remembered not to iron my shirt. I bet everything is previously frozen or deep-fried. Hey, how can you tell you're in a diner? Plastic wrapped saltines are served with soup.

That said, a starter of chicken lime soup was surprisingly good. Not oily as some meat accented soups can be, this had a light and tangy broth thanks to said lime. Dried herbs floated amid bits of carrot; shredded Parmesan cheese weighed down pieces of crisp tortilla-type garnish.

JAKE: The Poodle Dog is a freakin' diner, Jason, an off the highway diner. Did you not hear the announcer? It's not supposed to be fancy.

The chef salad arrived a huge, frilly green leaf affair.  Laid out in separate quadrants on a bed of chopped romaine over whole leaf lettuce was a previously grilled and cooled, sliced chicken breast, blood red diced tomato, hard-boiled egg, a mound of mildly stinky blue cheese crumbles, and a pile of chopped up bacon. A ramekin of chunky blue cheese dressing could have doubled as a 1-cup measuring cup. Love me some stinky cheese. I think my heart would have stopped if I had used all of that dressing in one sitting. Here's a thing I learned from my wife: I stabbed my fork around gathering some of everything and then just touched it to the dressing wading pool to add flavor without drowning the healthy vegetables by pouring it on. Every mouthful was a winner. Thanks, wifey.

JASON: I was pleased with how the chicken fettuccine Alfredo was cooked. That's not due to taking my usual dining expectations down by most of the notches either. Mind you, it's not fancy. Spruced up with sautéed onions, mushrooms, and zucchini, the chicken was lightly browned outside, juicy inside. Pasta was al dente. Sauce was rich and lightly salted. I think zucchini is the easiest vegetable to overcook; this was tender, not mushy. I felt like rejoicing, but I may still be in shock.

People say horrible things about the ol' Dog, so I was prepared to barely taste things, leave all of it and go elsewhere to actually eat. A different cook will come with the shift change, and it could be a whole different story in the kitchen, so good job, Sunday night cook.

JAKE: Whoa, look at the tune changer giving compliments.

The Texas toast style bread it came with was so greasy, buttery good. It was like crack in New York in the late '80s - I could have eaten an entire loaf of bread made into that. The whole plate was doused in shredded Parm and dried herbs.

I have to point out that the Rueben sandwich looks good on paper but just doesn't deliver as it should in real life. I was bummed. Neither small-town diner personality nor landmark status makes up for lack of flavor. The pastrami was tender, the bread lightly toasted; I'm guessing it was on a flat grill momentarily. Sauerkraut was so mild, like it had been tamed down. Russian sauce could have been 1000 Island. For me, the bright side was the potato salad's perfect balance of mustard, sugar, onion, egg, potato, and celery. Gobble.

JASON: On to dessert, baby, yeah. Shock passed, and I rejoiced over house made bread pudding. Heated and served with vanilla ice cream, caramel sauce came on the side. Drizzle action unfolded. This was one buttery, devil-may-care, fat laden dessert. Mmmm, mmmm.