The Wake

I never thought that I would find myself eating lunch in a parked car along University Avenue by choice. But then again, I had never really thought about eating at Porky’s.

The 50s-style drive-in restaurant located at the intersection of University and Fairview avenues features a common theme: grease. This does not pertain only to the items on the menu. The place is an automotive apex straight outta’ “Happy Days”; a haven for grease monkeys and malt-guzzlers alike.

Oddly however, my comrade-in-cuisine (my roommate) and I soon discovered that we could not order our food from the phones next to the parking spots. This left us slightly disappointed. Regardless, we entered the restaurant. Upon stepping through the door, we discovered a wall covered in pictures of classic cars and also (somewhat surprisingly) numerous awards for excellence in the area of fast food. After purchasing a buffalo chicken sandwich along with some fries it was time to see if Porky’s lived up to the accolades it had been given by local publications.

Walking back to the car, images of scenes that could unfold on a usual night at Porky’s ran through my head. Thoughts of motorheads standing next to popped hoods admonishing the abilities of their huge engines to a couple in their 60s trying to relive their first date suddenly made me sorry that I had not chosen to enjoy Porky’s on a weekend evening.

My taste-tester friend and I then returned to the spacious booth that is my ‘88 Pontiac 6000LE and dug in. I was a little hesitant to open the grease-stained bag, but after seeing the rest of the parking lot stuffing their faces, I felt a little better about the task at hand.

I began my meal with the “healthy” portion; a cup of mayo-marinated coleslaw. Somewhat satisfied, I dove in for the slippery paper that contained the main course.

Upon opening the package, I was startled to find an onion ring drooling oil all over my sandwich. Figuring there was no reason to turn back now, I devoured the onion ring and arrived at the conclusion that it tasted exactly like it smelled — delicious.

However, the buffalo chicken sandwich was a different story. If I liked a sandwich where the breading dominated the meat, it would have been tasty. Unfortunately, I don’t. And when every bite becomes a battle, eating kind of loses its attraction. On a side note, my roommate thoroughly enjoyed his pork cutlet sandwich.

Against my better judgment, I headed back in for dessert. I ordered something that I thought would include both oatmeal cookies and ice cream only to find out that it contained neither.

After one bite of my dessert, our time at Porky’s was up. With a turn of the key we were ready to go. I have to admit, the thought of peeling out onto the street crossed my mind.

Although the food was sub par, the atmosphere alone was, well, worth about the five dollars I paid for the food. So, if you’re bored and have a belly-of-steel, make a pit stop at Porky’s while cruising the University strip in your souped-up ‘57 Chevy.