Knowing Your Place

Did you ever go back to a favorite old haunt to find that it had changed a lot--almost to the point that you don't recognize it? That the decor, the staff and the clientele have "modulated" significantly from when you used to frequent the place, to the point where you feel you don't belong here any more? That it's no longer "your" place?

You will not get that feeling at Cranford's Riverside Inn. Because nothing has changed in this place since I first reviewed the joint in 1998.

Still the same cockamamie parking situation, which, if you don't know the trick of how to navigate to the back lot, you will be driving in perpetuity trying to figure it out. Still the same eclectic interior decor announcing food and drink specials on paper plates tacked to the walls and dominated by Jake's two rules: Don't Be a Jerkoff and No Yelling Ever!

Still the same minuscule kitchen (where whoever's in there has to step outside to change his mind ) turning out some really incredible food, like the foot-long hot dog I had smothered in delicious chili sauce--for just $2 on Tuesdays. Which means still the same Jake philosophy from eighteen years ago: "I wanna feed the world for five bucks and then go fishin'."

And he still has the fishing poles for kids who might want to try their luck in the mighty Rahway River adjacent to the building. Even Hurricane Irene couldn't change the vibe when she caused that river to rise and temporarily close and rename the bar to "The River Innside."

Still the same decent beer selection from company reps who "know how the system works," and still the same genuinely friendly service from whoever's behind the bar ( in this case, the lovely Paige Force ).

The Riverside Inn is truly a "Cheers" kind of pub. And, since 1998, it has recently been "discovered" by the beer and food intelligentsia of local newspapers. It was awarded the #1 Dive Bar in the State Award, and it garnered the #2 spot for best bar overall. It was clearly a proud moment for the dive's denizens, because when the paper folks came in to present the award, the entire assembly stood and chanted, "WE'RE NUMBER TWO! WE'RE NUMBER TWO!"

After we brushed away the cobwebs of memory and finally recognized each other ( I said the place hadn't changed--not us ), and after some hearty, long-overdue hugs and backslapping, Pete Jacobs told me yesterday, "You got this ball rolling with your review back in 1998, and I thank you for that. You are always welcome here any time!"

That may seem like a special honor, but it's actually one that every patron gets, because the bar is definitely one where "everybody knows your name." And you may know theirs. No sooner had Paige drawn me a Brooklyn East India Pale Ale at the bar, when I sensed a hulking figure standing next to me. It was a former student from 1983 named Erik Rosenmaier who played for the NFL's Buffalo Bills back in the day, but was here with his fellow Cranford High football coaches discussing the day's tri-scrimmage.

After another "Holy Sh!t" recognition moment, and more hugs and backslapping ( Erik's were somehow more powerful than Jake's ), we started to reminisce and had a great time doing it. As most teachers and former teachers will tell you, It's so good to see former students who are leading happy, productive lives.

But that's the way Jake and Jocco's Riverside Inn is, although it's just called the Riverside Inn now, since brother Jocco ( Jeff ), sadly, passed away some years ago. When he and Pete started the venture, Pete assumed the kitchen duties while Jeff handled the books, which duty has now fallen to Jake. And he hates it. "I'd rather go down the cellar and clean the grease traps," he told me.

But do it he must, and it hasn't affected his contagious smile, genuinely friendly approach to all who come through the door--front or back-- or the fact that he truly enjoys his place and the people in it.

Which is probably why he's got the #1 Dive Bar in the State and a clientele which is immensely proud of that accomplishment.

"Don't be a stranger!" he said to me as I was leaving.

Funny, I thought. When you visit the Riverside Inn, you're only a stranger once. He even told me to park my motorcycle on the sidewalk the next time I come.

Probably so it frees up a spot in the back.

Cheers!

The PubScout