RED MEAT, BLUE COLLAR
They may not be fancy, but diners remain popular
You’ll find them tucked into the perimeter of a business park, not far from a quarter-section of car dealerships, or perhaps snuggled between a tile store and a plumbing and heating outfit.
Their neighbours have names such as Western Hard Chrome. Often the refuge of retired couples and men eating alone, these simple restaurant spaces in industrial areas open early to catch the breakfastand lunch trade. Cars stream by, but foot traffic is scarce. By 3 p.m., the red neon signs blinking “open” have been extinguished.
Some of these restaurants attract customers with a perfectly grilled and seasoned baseball cut steak that’s half what you’d pay at a chain steak house, or a mess of Korean-style fried chicken, available to eat in or take out. Free refills are common.
Good eats for cheap — that, and relationships built with customers. helps them stay afloat. But these humble eateries also rely on a hallmark of being human: the tendency to seek comfort in the familiar.
For 18 years, that combination has drawn a clutch of blue-collar workers to Pat and Mike’s restaurant, located in the Westgate Business Park at 17732 102 Ave. They used to come before work, or at lunch, but now they ’re retired members of the International Association of Machinists and Aerospace Workers, and they come when they like.
Most every Friday, you’ll find between 10 and 30 of them meeting from 6 a.m. to 8 a.m. to talk about U.S. President Donald Trump, the Trans Mountain pipeline and Stephen Mandel (who garners an inordinate amount of attention, considering he hasn’t been mayor for quite some time).
“The price and the service is good,” said Ken Okerman, 69, who has just thrown down $10 to cover a full breakfast, with coffee, tax and tip. Then he grinned.
“We talk a lot about girls,” Okerman said.
Pat and Mike’s has been in the same location for 38 years, but Lan Leung has owned the 106-seat joint for only the past eight, running it with the help of his wife. He considers himself lucky because he’s got a good chef who makes everything from scratch, including gravy and burger patties.
Back in the day, if you weren’t at Pat and Mike’s by 11:50 a.m., you didn’t get a seat until 2 p.m. Now, there is a lot of competition and fewer customers, particularly since the price of oil took a dive a few years back.
“Lots of seniors come in here because the price is right,” said Leung, who was born in Hong Kong more than 60 years ago. “It’s laid-back. People come for a break. They can do their business quietly in the corner.”
When a longtime customer died a couple of months back, the celebration of his life was held at Pat and Mike’s.
“That’s the kind of customers we have,” Leung said.
If patrons like industrial area cafes because they are close to work, inexpensive and have parking, owners also have reasons for seeking space amid the industrial corridors that criss-cross the nether regions of the city. A restaurant can be a demanding enterprise, but restaurants outside residential neighbourhoods typically have shorter hours.
That’s part of what attracted Lisa Han’s family to open a burger and sandwich spot at 9645 42 Ave. Immigrants from Korea, Han’s parents came to Canada seeking a better life for their children.
Trendy locations for a restaurant proved expensive to rent (downtown restaurant spaces can be upward of $40 a square foot, whereas industrial areas can be found for $9 to $14 a square foot). The Hans weren’t interested in the fast pace of a downtown or south side establishment.
They used to own a Korean restaurant, also in the area, but purchased the burger joint more than 10 years ago, recently adding Korean fried chicken to the menu and renaming the restaurant Angry Chicken.
“My parents decided (on) an industrial area because they wanted to serve regular customers, and wanted to be friends with them in a spacious, wide-open place,” Han said in an email.
Personal factors such as having Sundays off were also behind that Edmonton industrial area staple, the Fife ’n’ Dekel, run for 35 years by Jackie Fenske, her parents and four siblings. The restaurant, which now has four locations, started out as an ice cream and pie spot, and gradually evolved to a soup-and-sandwich model.
“We knew people needed lunch, and we liked the fact that we could be closed on Sundays and after 5 p.m.,” Fenske said. “It’s much easier to hire staff when they know the latest they are working is 5 p.m. We found our niche.”
Clients such as the motherdaughter duo of Arlene and Melanie Collins like the Fife ’n’ Dekel because the bread is fresh and pies are great. Also, it’s not expensive — a good sandwich, made with proteins that are roasted whole, in-house, goes for $6 or $7.
“I love that they put sprouts on,” Melanie Collins said. “And they always have really fresh bread and lots of options.”
Fenske, who comes from a farming family, said she thinks customers appreciate Fife ’n’ Dekel fare because it harkens back to a simpler time.
“It’s our pies that make us different, but that was part of our lifestyle as well ... When you talk about rural, pies were part of every church pot luck.”
“It’s blue-collar and it’s something familiar to us,” she added. “Granny making us our sandwiches and growing our tomatoes ... That’s what we knew. Visiting a restaurant wasn’t common for us. We were white bread, mayo both sides, and five slices of tomato. I still like my sandwiches soggy because that’s the way it was when I ate it at lunch at school.”
Jimmy Shewchuk, the owner of Sandwich and Sons at 13119 156 St., chose to set up north of Yellowhead Trail because he sensed the area was hungry for good food.
“Not only was it under-serviced in terms of the number of establishments, it was underserved in terms of the quality of food. We use lots of local ingredients and it was appreciated.”
Sandwich and Sons features an order counter where staff make sandwiches from scratch as customers look on. Six signature sandwiches come with homemade chips for between $9 and $13. Mustard and pickles are prepared inhouse.
The 39-year-old, who honed his hospitality chops at Earl’s, delivers simplicity with sandwiches, an approach he feels has been lost in modern food culture, with its focus on fuss and Instagram.
“I thought a hearty, smoked meat sandwich spoke to the working class and I thought we could deliver that in their own backyard,” Shewchuk said.
He emphasized industrial area cafes can’t rely on stereotypes to define their customers. Just because someone is wearing coveralls, doesn’t mean they don’t know just as much about food as downtown counterparts.
“We quickly learned that gone are the days when you can go into an industrial area and serve egg salad on Wonder Bread,” Shewchuk said. “There is a broader base of customers who are as sophisticated as anyone with their food knowledge. We have lots of people asking how we smoke our meat, and do we brine it, and for how long.”