Going Back to My Former Life

The Franklin Inn is the essence of a neighborhood spot.

So much so that even though I haven't lived in the Museum District for five years, when I was in there today I ran into my former next-door neighbor of thirteen years.

She doesn't live in the neighborhood anymore either, but how fitting that we happen upon each other in our former neighborhood joint.

My lunch companion had been eager to go to the Franklin Inn ever since he heard they had a $3.95 burger.

We settled into a booth, where I inhaled the scent of the old-fashioned heavily-petaled pink roses adorning the table. Forget long-stems, these were like my grandmother's roses.

From that fine start, we ordered Cokes for caffeine's sake and he began fawning over the menu while I got into listening to Michael Jackson's "PYT" (how did we ever think he was talking about girls when he wrote that song?).

The burger was a given for him, but seeing that they had Senate Bean Soup meant that he had to start there (he's a lawyer).

His next dilemma was a choice of sides; he was sorely tempted by both hushpuppies and onion rings, finally opting for the latter instead of the chips that came with his burger.

I'm easy. I ordered the chicken salad club and happily took the chips that came with it. Done.

His soup was full of ham and long-cooked beans; with the addition of a little pepper, it was perfect. The Senate would be proud.

My overstuffed chicken salad sandwich had as much bacon as a BLT. It should have been called a BLCS,  but that doesn't really roll off the tongue.

The onion rings arrived in a tower with some falling off the plate. Sure, they were the frozen kind, but when served right out of the fryer, they were tasty.

The burger satisfied my friend for its superior non-standard roll, the perfect patty to bun ratio and the addition of the raw onions he had requested.

Neither of us finished everything on our plates and yet when our server asked if we wanted dessert, he immediately said yes.

Not made in-house, the chocolate cake scratched an itch we didn't truly have, but wasn't so compelling that we finished it.

Friends came in and sat nearby at the bar. I was curious why they looked so nice and learned they'd come from a funeral.

They'd ducked into the Franklin for a drink before making their way to the funeral reception. As my friend and I agreed, drinks are a must on funeral days.

A neighborhood spot is one that caters to all kinds of needs regardless of where you live.