We have a joke around here that when we get snow or bad weather in the forecast, everybody starts thinking about French toast.  Why else does everyone run to the store for milk, eggs & bread?

When I think of French toast, I think of llamas.

My sister and I both went to college in upstate New York.  Whether we were traveling for her to SUNY Binghamton or for me to Syracuse University, our road trip usually took us past the Roscoe Diner. 

If you’ve traveled Route 17 in the middle of New York then you’ve likely been to Roscoe.  It’s one of those classic American road places.  Right off the highway, you almost drive off the exit ramp and into their parking lot. 

Inside, it’s your classic diner.  I had a friend once who’d never seen one of these restaurants. Apparently she’d led a very sheltered life.  She couldn’t get over the pages and pages of choices.  Everything from hamburgers to veal parm to lobster to prime rib to cheese fries.  Breakfast served all day and night, of course, and don’t get me started on the bakery and desserts.  I always got a kick out of the “diet delights” on the menu. 

We had a diner in my hometown.  Actually, we had several within a 20 minute drive, but the one in Yorktown was sort of home base.  It changed names a few times, but we had some stand-out experiences there.  My friends and I always stopped there late at night after whatever movie we’d seen or party we’d gone to.  One night while there with four girlfriends we realized that we were the only ones not part of a choir group enjoying a late night meal.  How’d we realize that?  We were the only ones who didn’t join in when the whole place started singing Neil Diamond’s America.  Every one around the world, we’re coming to America!!  It was incredible.

I can have breakfast any time, day or night.  My family has always been partial to challah French toast.  Thin sliced wheat or white is okay , but it doesn’t stand a chance next to thick slices of egg-dipped challah bread.  When I was in college, the best of its kind was at the Roscoe diner.   We used to start talking about it when we were still an hour away.  It never disappointed.

One time, I was traveling home, by myself, and decided to make my usual pit stop in Roscoe.  I pulled into the parking lot, parked my Jeep in the crowded parking lot, pulling into an almost too-tight space between two big pickup trucks.  It wasn’t until I turned around to click the remote-lock key chain that I saw what was in one of those trucks.  They didn’t seem too surprised to see me, but I can’t say I expected to see them.  Two llamas hanging out, watching the people go by and seemingly not all that worried about a thing. 

I think I laughed out loud.  I know I went in, ordered my food and didn’t say anything to anybody.  The truck and the llamas were gone when I left.  I do remember wondering what llamas eat.  I’m sure they had it at the Roscoe Diner.