Simplicity and Fried Bologna
Two absolute opposite curveballs, don't worry I will find the relation.
Minimalism is still in as the hip, modern trend. However, minimalism is not simple. Conscious effort must be made to reduce the footprint of any such object, compared to simple. Simple is homely, something is somewhere for some purpose because somebody needed it.
Something like a TV behind a bar, or a phone charging a rate for different alibis for lovers or law enforcement, means at least someone left an impact here. Autographed NFL jerseys from an era I wasn’t even alive for, with all the local college legends adorning the walls. Someone had to have been a fan and saw a purpose in where those banners hang.
Case study is Kerns Korner, a hole in the wall of consumerist hell Bardstown Road. Untouched by the gentrification of its neighbors, it feels like home. While under any other name it would be a dive bar, you enter at 1 on a Thursday and the regulars have it packed, which is already a good sign. It is also wildly cramped, and runs only on cash. This is clearly somewhere ran on love and good times, not the soulless shell of corporate.
Navigating to the bar to find a seat, the tender asks if we’ve been in before, after telling Roger by name his soup will be out in a minute. Clearly, everyone who is here has always been here, minus my friend and I being odd outs. She tells us the menu, what her favorites are, and to just holler when we are ready. The place is brimming with conversations, and the retirees sip on their bourbon as the other spirits are dusty. While waiting on the server to return, my eyes glance up to the namesake, who has sadly passed a few years ago. My guess is the man on the grill is his son, and the busser and barkeep are family friends. A three man crew for a restaurant, simple compared to where I have worked.
The menu. Many places claim to sell comfort food, and many places lie. However, this one doesn’t. You get a lunch fair of sandwiches and soups, and everyone there has an old reliable pick they have worked into their daily routine. I opt for a poor mans rueben, my friend a patty melt. You could see the grill and expo, and every sandwich was to order, extra tomatoes sliced as the food is going out. And it felt homely, like watching my grandfather make fried biscuits early before a day of gardening during a summer heat. Every order that came out looked happy, an order made to order. The cheeseburgers were also upside down, which was very disconcerting but it made it special in a way.
When I got my sandwich, it was what I expected; homely. Something I could make in my apartment, but having it anywhere else felt far better than the modern minimalist dorm of where I rent.
Mustard is an elite condiment, completely unrelated at all but it is better than ketchup.
But, this mid day break off of campus, and the dreary brick and concrete slab was a break that felt natural. I’m not old, but I remember yesteryear and how simple it was to be a whopping 5 years old. Suddenly, that sandwich had me there again, when it was easier and more simple. The fears of college and grades were so far away, but so close in grand scheme.
If anything, take away that sometimes, you don’t have to worry. Worry over complicates and over exaggerates, like worrying about the healthiness of a mystery meat roll of bologna. Enjoy simplicity, when you and your friend want out of the never ending class cycle, enjoy simplicity even when it is something between two pieces of rye. With mustard.