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Miss Adams: Pride of Plate

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Written by Randy Garbin

Contrary to what some may think, I don't relish bestowing Lou-Roc awards, but it never fails to amaze (and depress) me how little people appreciate the good works of others. Diners, left alone, work as near-perfect food-service structures loaded with built-in charm, needing of no further enhancements. None. Any attempts to embellish eventually begets a boatload of regret. And if the perpetrator never comes to experience that regret, then I feel safe in saying that they never belonged in the restaurant business in the first place.

The new family behind the Miss Adams Diner in Adams, Massachusetts. Left to right: Ric Belair, Don Hardaker, Samantha Hollland, Leanna Tellidira, Rikki Belair, and Philomene Belair.

Until Jae Chung purchased it in 1999, the Miss Adams Diner represented everything a small diner could and should be, especially in New England: Cozy, friendly, durable, dependable, and authentic—typical of a well-preserved late-1940s Worcester car, which the Miss Adams was until Mr. Chung came to town. Run then by Barry and Nancy Garton, the couple did just about everything right. They only needed to restore the exterior of the diner by removing the stone facade and reapplying fresh porcelain panels. They had cleaned up the interior and even managed to find original Worcester booths at auction (from the former Phillips Diner) to replace the cheesy bent plywood benches. Most of the rest of their efforts went into the kitchen, where they spent a considerable amount upgrading all the equipment.

The aftermath of Jae Chung's renovations.

This image taken back in 1992 shows the original Miss Adams floor, now covered over.

This photo taken in 1996 shows the original ceiling, upon which Chung affixed dozens of 45 rpm records. Those are now under yet another layer of paneling.

When they announced their sale of the business and diner to Chung, I hoped he might complete the restoration. Chung not only dashed those hopes, he drove them deep into the ground, stomped on them, and doused them with his bodily fluids.

In the course of ten years, Chung brought in no fewer than eight different operators through that new kitchen. Two of those operators chose to use the diner as a hot dog stand and a fish-fry joint respectively, and both changed its name. Finally, in a desperate attempt to bring in new customers, Chung didn't improve the food. He didn't restore the exterior. No, in 2007, he tore apart the diner's pristine interior, cladding the original woodwork with scored aluminum plating. Then, as if he had some kind of vendetta against the diner and/or the preservationist outcry, he drilled hundreds of carriage bolts through the aluminum and wood underneath in a rivet-like pattern as if to mimic a nightmarish piece of machinery. He also covered the original tile floor with large 8-inch marble bathroom tiles, and covered the walls below the windows with more new tile in a checkerboard pattern. In the end, the gambit failed miserably. Not only did customers fail to materialize, the community gasped in horror at what Chung did to its local landmark.

Frankly, everyone involved in that horror show needs to take a severe beating for what they did to this diner. Save for the outside, it was near perfect. Thankfully, no one took the clock, but someone did take the tags.

Finally, in 2009, Chung thankfully gave up on it. Or perhaps more accurately, the diner gave up on Chung. The bank foreclosed, and put it up for sale, where it landed in the hands of Jen Segala from Steepleview Realty. While relieved that Chung's reign of terror had finally come to an end, I now wondered what would happen next.

I didn't have to wait long. Ms. Segala awarded a lease to Philomene Rivard and Ric Belair, a couple with twenty years in food service, though none in the diner business. They had just put a bid on taking over a much smaller space in town, when they heard of the diner's availability. As it happened, they found themselves up against six other bidders, but won the lease because only they wanted to run the diner as a diner.

Six months later, I walk in the door for the first time since the Garton's left the building. Though I wondered if I could get past the heartbreak of what Chung had wrought, I soon found myself settling into what I would otherwise describe as a very happy diner experience. I've often observed that diners have endured because of their adaptability and ability to provide a wide range of food styles to suit just about any taste. What every truly successful diner does, however, is serve its food with pride.

"Basic" diner fare served with obvious care beats out anything spun out by a culinary "expert" who merely goes through the paces. The concern for every detail of the diner experience runs deep, and I see evidence of this here. After a decade of suffering, it finally feels that Phil and Ric have put the Miss Adams back on the road to recovery.

As usual, I returned to the diner unannounced after several invitations from Phil to come visit. I ordered a three-egg scramble with onions, peppers, tomatoes, cheese, and ham with a side rye toast. The staff greeted me like family, served me professionally, and never let my coffee cup get empty or cold. Unfortunately, after I ordered, I looked up and saw the placard advertising the "full English breakfast," which included two eggs, baked beans, fried mushrooms or tomatoes and grilled toast along with sausage or bacon, extra crispy, only $6.50 — a real bargain compared to what you might pay in England, I hear.

This new ownership has begun the process — at least for me — of building a new string of good experiences and hopefully of good reports. I eventually had a nice long chat with Phil, gave me the full rundown on her plans for the diner's future. Diner fans all want to know, of course, if we'll ever see the undoing of the recent renovations, but Phil let me know that they had to make the business their first priority. After ten years with revolving door operation, Phil and Ric faced a real challenge trying to rebuild the customer base, especially in an area that will likely take much longer to recover economically than the rest of the region.

The mill towns under the shadow of Mt. Greylock all sprung up in the 19th century and most still struggle with redefining their roles in the 21st. North Adams has made some progress based around the recent installment of the new Museum of Contemporary Art (Mass MoCA), and even Pittsfield has begun to show some signs of life after the abandonment by GE. A new rail trail runs behind the diner as well, though Phil says they don't yet get much business from it. She does report, however, that tourism – the major industry here — has held up well in the battered economy.

Still, with only six months behind the counter, they barely have their feet wet, but I have high hopes. The Miss Adams is a real family operation about to be made more so when Phil and Rick tied the knot on August 21 this year. Get it? 8/21? Diner geeks should, since the 1949 Worcester is #821. Now, that's dedication to your craft.

Find the Miss Adams Diner on 53 Park Street, Route 8, Adams, Massachusetts. Open every day for breakfast and lunch and for dinners on Fridays. For more information, call 413-776-7372.