West Chester Dish

œIf I were a rock star¦ my mother began to say. (This was sure to be a good conversation.) “I would have that lobster BLT brought to my dressing room when I was on tour. Statements like this reconfirm why I love my mother.

This was a bold declaration. I’d say one step lower than a last meal request and a leap higher than a birthday meal request. But I could see where she was coming from¦ the sandwich was amazing.

The lobster BLT she was referring to was from The Classic Diner in Malvern. The menu reads: Lobster Tail BLT served on Brioche with Avocado and œLemon Chive Mayo.

The day of my mother’s first œrock star sandwich there was no dining room seating available. We had no choice but to get comfortable on stools at the counter. This wasn’t my preference. Knowing that my backside is in full view of other restaurant goers while I’m trying to enjoy a meal doesn’t thrill me. I was preparing myself to go through the entire meal sucking in when I heard a voice yell œorder up. My eyes flashed towards the kitchen and I immediately forgot about holding my breath.

I discovered that while fellow diners had a view of my rear, I had a full view of the kitchen and prep area. Each culinary creation was exposed. I was able to mentally devour each order as it was marched off to a table. We had VIP seating for a food parade¦

œDid you see the size of that?
œWhat IS that? Get the menu; I have to see what that is
œI hope that’s our order¦ oh man¦ we need to get that next time.
œThat pancake is seriously the size of my head. That is incredible!

We caught glimpses of the staff plugging tree-like sprigs of mint into pancakes. They guided wooden skewers into towering eggs benedict with ping-pong-ball-sized black olives at the top. They clanked silver tumblers with special dressings onto platters as the final touch. We were able witness to it all.

When my mother’s sandwich arrived, we determined that she definately needed a knife to cut it up. It would have been impossible for her to eat it otherwise. Beautiful slices of avocado fanned out on top of the expertly prepared lobster. Ruler-sized slabs of bacon hovered over slices of tomato and lettuce and a gigantic roll hugged it all together with the help of a mammoth toothpick.

I am not sure which was more impressive; the sandwich itself or the handcrafted bites my mother made from it. She cut a bit of the bread, a sliver of tomato, a chunk of bacon, a smear of avocado and a slice of lobster. Then she topped it all with a smidgen of the citrus mayo from the silver tumbler. It was important to get all the tastes in each mouthful. Several bites and many mmmmmm’s later, the plate was cleared.

A month later when my mother came back to visit, we discussed where to go for lunch. I assumed she would want her rock star sandwich but she looked unsure.

She was pondering advice that my father had given her before she came. After sharing how much she enjoyed the sandwich he provided the following warning.

œYou had it once and it was perfect. If you get it again it may not be as good the second time and then the memory won’t be as good. Just be prepared that you might be disappointed. And this was why I loved my father.

Our stomachs appreciated this insight but completely ignored it, and another visit to The Classic Diner was made. The second visit was just as delicious as the first. Each and every carefully constructed bite was true to memory. As she polished off the last morsel I smiled; my mother may not be a rock star but she sure as hell could rock a sandwich.

Pick your own meal to have delivered to your dressing room.

The Classic Diner
325 Lancaster Avenue
Malvern, PA 19355
P: 610.725.0515
F: 610.725.9565

Restaurant Website

The Final Dish: I heart you mom.