Melodic Insomniac

There is a little dive in downtown Atlanta called The Varsity.  Founded in 1928, this place has been a staple in my family’s history since my granddaddy went to Georgia Tech in the early 1950s.  There are six locations now, but to me, the only one to eat at is the original on North Avenue.  I try to eat at least one meal there every time I come to Atlanta.  The food is cheap, greasy and fried, and I often feel horrible later that night, but it is so worth it.

At peak dining hours, the “lines” to the counters seem like a mash of people squeezed into a too-small space.  The staff dons paper caps à la drive-ins of sock hop days, hollering, “What’ll ya have?  What’ll ya have?”  It’s a noisy, crowded, disorganized and chaotic mess, but somehow everyone is taken care of.

You have to know the lingo to properly expedite your order at The Varsity.  A naked dog is a plain hot dog on a bun.  A glorified steak is a hamburger with mayonnaise, lettuce and tomato.  A bag of rags is a bag of potato chips.  I always order two chili steaks (hamburgers with just chili), ring one (an order of onion rings) and an F.O. (a frosted orange soda).

Everything in The Varsity is delicious, even the onion rings.  I don’t even like onion rings, and somehow I end up scarfing down an entire basket of them.

To be honest, though, I mainly go to The Varsity for the F.O.  It’s like an orange creamsicle in milkshake form.  It is heaven in a cup.