Tiny Diny

Billowing swirls of cotton candy float through the air atop the heads of the experienced waitresses. Old men, construction workers, professionals and young families hungrily loiter about the tables. A sugary sweet lady, the matron of the family owners, joyfully greets every entrant at the Tiny Diny. For decades, Mobilians have swarmed into and taken their hineys to the Tiny Diny (TD) on Hall’s Mill Road in MiMo. In the last week I ate both breakfast and lunch a couple of days apart.

Good ol’ well-worn country ladies saunter casually over to take your drink order while you wait. Food is served quickly, in that it does not take long, but the waitresses take their own time to do the rest. At breakfast, diners can leisurely enjoy a long, slow meal. Lunch is more hurried. An invisible wall separates the heavy wafts of smoke from the non-smoking area.

A few Saturday’s ago my son and I arrived at 6:45 a.m. for breakfast. You can get breakfast all day at the TD for the young and hung-over, and they offer everything. Brown, fluffy pancakes and freshly pressed waffles engulf the large plates—one is enough for even the biggest pig. I typically order poached eggs cooked to a perfect medium. The waitress always checks to see if they are right, and hustles them off for new ones if not.

The bacon is so crisp that if you pick it up too hard it breaks and the salt rubs against your fingers like fine sandpaper. But the bacon, along with the plump slices of country sausage, hardly competes with the country ham. The slice is so thick and large that it can fill three biscuits generously. More salty than the bacon, the ham has tributaries of fat running through the slice.

A large pile of fresh, feathery biscuits arrives early after you order. Bowls of fresh honey and sweet peach preserves can be brought to your table if asked for - both are much better than the mixed fruit servings at table. Biscuits with country ham and redeye gravy. Sausage or regular ham are offered along with the typical omelets - but try the crabmeat first. All egg breakfasts come with grits or hash browns (get the grits, with cheese—a large mound of shredded cheddar is anchored at the bottom of your grit bowl) and biscuits or toast. Only an idiot would get toast.

My son had one tremendous waffle and cheese grits, and I had the hungry man special—three poached eggs, country ham, cheese grits and biscuits. Our bill was a little over $12. Enough said about breakfast.

“Meat and threes” are found few places in our area. When I was in school in Birmingham they were, and still are, found all over the city. Perhaps this is evocative of the Magic City’s blue collar roots. The Tiny Diny has stayed true to this concept since its inception. About once a month I have a standing lunch date with a friend to catch up and eat veggies. The room is filled to capacity and noisy at lunchtime which enables private conversation. It allows you to trade business and political gossip and eat so much that you fall into a food coma upon your return to work.

Each weekday and on Saturday’s they have three daily special entrées and vegetables. Chicken and dumplings and meatloaf are some examples, along with rotating vegetables prepared just for that day. But everyday they have such choices as breaded cutlet with gravy, turkey and dressing, chicken fingers and fried chicken. These selections present are my dilemma and all of them are generous. They are also dependable. The fried chicken is decadent, a crunchy coating encasing a steaming hot interior.

I typically succumb to the cutlet and gravy, oversized and flavorful, doused with a corpulent amount of brown sauce. The chicken fingers are hand-cut slices of breast meat, fried in similar fashion as the one above. As with all the others, turkey is big, covering the platter, hiding moist peppery dressing. Stay away from the roast beef or ham—they both were inferior to the others.

The list of everyday sides is too long to include here. The best ones are the turnip greens, soft in taste, not too bitter, floating in their own liquid. The green beans are typical, but can be relied upon. A dense round of mashed potatoes just screams for sweet butter to be swirled into it creaminess. For fried items, the okra does not appear to be frozen and has just as much inside as outside, with a complementary shell. But I get the fried green tomatoes every time.

The massive slices are so hot at first that you will terrify your mouth. Save them until after you have devoured the rest of your meal. Everything comes with a pile of cornbread, brought in the same manner as the biscuits. Their cornbread is brittle on the outside and moist on the interior. These also demand butter, and while you may not have room for them, you have to eat just one.

Believe it or not, I always eat dessert. The chocolate meringue pie is a must. A rich, compact layer of chocolate is covered with a light, fluffy meringue. It is served cold, but ask for it to be warmed. The chocolate melts into the meringue and drizzles onto the plate.

At lunch, the waitresses cannot afford to be as attentive. It is so crowded that you have to speak up quickly to get more tea or order dessert. They also tend to forget who got what, but when they bring something that was not ordered, it stays on your table and you are swiftly brought the right thing. You bill comes with the food. The price of your meal sans dessert and with tea runs about $8—for an abundant amount of food.

Kinnon Phillips is Lagniappe cuisine editor. Contact him at kphillips@lagniappemobile.com.

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