Thaddeus Young walked into Irma’s Diner and smiled faintly at the old-timey decor. It certainly fit his impression of what restaurants in Minnesota were like. Crocheted this and knitted that covered every piece of furniture in the operation, and the people sitting at the long bar were all either wearing overalls or sweatpants. Sitting down alongside his fellow Minnesota citizens, he declined to even peruse the menu that was in front of him. His order was always the same, no matter where he dined.
“Can I get you something to drink, honey? Just brewed up a fresh pot of coffee!”
Thaddeus looked up to find a plump, matronly 60-year-old woman in front of him. She was smiling so broadly that the eyes behind her glasses were reduced to slits. Her round, red nametag read “Irma.”
“No coffee today, ma’am.” It just seemed right to call her ma’am. “Can I just get a Pepsi and a cheesesteak?”
“Absolutely, hon. I’ll be back before you know it!”
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“Enjoy!” said his waitress joyfully, setting down an individual-sized casserole dish in front of him.
Thaddeus raised an eyebrow at the dish. There wasn’t even any bread. All he could see was a simmering conglomeration of cheese.
The waitress quickly caught on to Thaddeus’ surprise. “Oh dear, is that not what you ordered? You said ‘cheese steak’, right?”
“Yeah, I did. But this ain’t a cheesesteak like I ever seen, ma’am.”
“I asked our cook, Clem, if he knew what a cheese steak was, and he knew just about as well as I did. So he came up with a special dish just for you! Cheddar and pot roast casserole with a potato chip topping! I hope you like it!”
Thaddeus, remembering previous occasions when the legacy of the Philly Cheesesteak had been sullied, tried to bring about the anger that he had summoned during those times. However, he could find nothing but sympathy in his heart for the well-meaning woman.
“I’m sure it’s delicious. Thank you,” Thaddeus responded warmly. He had just experienced good, honest Midwestern kindness for the first time, but certainly not the last. His only worry now was, would he still have room for Irma’s famous rhubarb pie?