Biscuits and Hot Link Gravy & Appreciation Pils

I miss diner food.  There I've said it.  It's not at all the thing I anticipated missing - I'd prefer my homesickness to be a bit more highbrow - but I do.  I miss grease, hash browns, the miracle that is corned beef, cheap ketchup and absurd breakfast skillets with seven different kinds of meat.

I also miss grease.

And grease.

(Although, this just in: Danes sometimes smear pork lard on their toast which is as good as grease and, obviously, one thousand percent genius).

American diners boast a special kind of cuisine. Hovering over the sweet spot of junk food and home cooking, good diner food can both fill you up and make you hate yourself for hours after.  It also cures hangovers.  And diets.  Back in our roaring twenties, Sarah and I enjoyed a lot of diner meals, mostly at our favorite spot on Lincoln Avenue in Chicago.  It had sticky pleather booths, burned coffee and a mustachioed owner who affably slapped your backs on your way in and out.  Sadly, it's closed now but memories of our indulgent brunches/late night, post pub eating extravaganzas, still linger.  Sarah usually got a skillet, always with ham, never with green peppers and I always, ALWAYS got the biscuits and gravy.