Roaming around my home-country in Halifax County, Virginia, this summer, I have been looking for a good old-fashioned diner that serves good- old-fashioned food. I only had to drive about a mile and half to the Old 360 Mountain Road Diner, on the curvy two-lane Route 360 to Danville. There is no MacDonalds or Burger King on this road–only a deserted gas station on the left just before the parking lot, full of trucks, ambulances, jeeps and sedans.
Two sheriff’s cars were parked right in front. In Baltimore, this might have been a sign to quickly move to the next Burger King, but here the sheriff, police, Blacks and Whites, and workers are regulars, creating a friendly buzz of conversation. I settled at the counter beside Joy, an emergency worker, and assessed the menu. Meat loaf was the first choice but it already had sold out. So I settled on chicken fingers plate with two sides–green beans and macaroni–and sweet tea ($10.99).
By the time I received my plate,heaping with food, Joy and I were friends. She had told me her life story. She’s from Ringgold, up the road, and is on the emergency team that eats here regularly. I learned about her job, her children, her divorce and the calls for emergency around the area. Diabetes and heart attack predominate as the major calls for help. No joke, given the rich food I’m about to eat. I’m indulging but you can also eat your fill of vegetables, from okra to butter beans.
But who wants to skimp when you get these amazing chicken fingers?
Each of the four chicken fingers was as big as a drumstick. They were succulent, hot and full of chicken flavor, compared to fast food chicken fingers that taste like paper.
Barry, the owner, from behind the counter, told me he makes his own breadcrumbs. The genial host, with a broad face and grin, and sunburned complexion, won’t tell me what’s in the crusty skin, but I suspect it comes from the delicious cornbread muffins. He soaks the chicken breasts in buttermilk before he rolls them in bread crumbs and drops them in crackling hot oil.
How do you prepare catfish? I asked Barry.
He uses pliers to peel away the tough skin and volunteered he could cook a fish for me if I put my catch on ice and bring it up to the restaurant within two days. I bragged about my catch from two days ago: a big black catfish that was a thrill to reel in.
But it didn’t look that appetizing. Its gills pulsating, on the ground, I could see part of its mouth was missing, probably from an earlier catch. We threw it back in the pond.
How many restaurants would cook your fish? BYOF.
I stored this info in my head as inspiration to try again to land one of the more savory catfish. Like many who live out in the country in these parts, Barry has a pond at his home and prefers crappie and blue gill and bass. You’ve got to fish the little ones out or they will take up space from the big ones, he advised.
About 2 p.m., closing time. No dinner is served here but it’s not necessary with the huge lunch I just ate. I asked for a breakfast menu that includes pancakes, sausage, country ham, bacon, eggs, and fresh buttermilk biscuits.
“Umm, that looks good,” I said. This could get to be a habit. My cousin James eats breakfast here everyday.
“You’ll be back tomorrow,” Barry replied.
Driving back from the Cole brothers berry farm (the next post coming up) the next morning, I stopped by for a biscuit. $1 grilled with butter and so good. I may be returning for lunch. I noticed the day’s desserts feature chocolate meringue pie, brown sugar pie and coconut pie ($3 a slice).
