Five Joliet Food Joints That Bring Back All the Memories
Through the years, I’ve realized that the conversations and memories made around tables at these places during my childhood fostered a lifelong thirst for deep traditions, history and community.
A few weeks ago, a friend asked me if I had a favorite pizza place when I was a kid. Having grown up in Joliet, IL — just a hop, skip and a jump from Chicago — the list was endless. So many joints and so many styles, from deep dish, to hand tossed, to thin crust. But the question immediately triggered a very detailed memory of one experience.
I was probably somewhere between the age of 10 and 13. And I clearly remember walking in the side door (seen in the photo below) of The Olde Keg — referred to by locals as The Keg — at the corner of Ottawa and Jackson streets in downtown Joliet. It was a doorway that had obviously been added onto the old brick building. It was dark outside, and remained very dimly lit as I stepped inside, right behind my dad. An excited kind of feeling came over me as we made our way across the creaky wooden floor — a feeling that had me mesmerized.
I could feel the history in the place, even as a kid. This wasn’t Pizza Hut (although the tabletop video games at Pizza Hut were badass). This place had been here for a long, long time — and, while what I remember of the pizza was awesome, there was more to the experience than how my taste buds were impacted. The people, the conversations taking place at tables and across the room, the worn tables and chairs, the dim light — everything was just deeper and more meaningful here. It had a hold of me.
Years later, I learned the history of The Keg dated back to 1897, when it first opened its doors as Horvath Cafe. It was a hot spot for pizza, beer and conversation among locals as well as those traveling the nearby, historic Route 66. In 1969, the name changed to Jerman’s Tavern, and, sometime before I was born, The Keg. But, from what I understand, the vibe and maybe even the pizza, remained the same. A genuine “if these walls could talk” kind of joint, woven into the fabric of the community and beyond.
What surprised me was how many details I could remember — and how that same feeling of being mesmerized accompanied the memory as it replayed in my head. I probably only went to The Keg 3 or 4 times, but the memories are so clear. So, that got me wondering:
“What food joints — from the menus to the memories associated with them — rise to the top from my childhood?” Five immediately came to mind and, like a good song, each will forever occupy a point of significance along the timeline of my life. So, as I’m one to do, I opened my laptop and started typing …
Home Cut Donuts
Growing up in Joliet, Sundays in our family almost always included a trip to Home Cut Donuts on West Jefferson Street. From the signature, wavy roofline atop the building, to the smell of donuts made fresh 24 hours a day, every day, Home Cut was and still is a fixture in town. Started in 1966 as Mister Donut and renamed Home Cut sometime during my childhood, it’s been family owned since the very beginning.
I loved the Bavarian cream and strawberry-filled donuts, but always had to add a frosted long john to our family order since it was the biggest on the shelf. My brother, sister and I always ran out of the car and through the front door because we couldn’t wait to hop up on the bench and peer through the big window that separated the customer area from the donut-making kitchen. I swear, I could have watched the culinary magic taking place on the other side of those windows for hours at a time.
From the looks of the video above, it seems the customer area has been updated some since I was a kid, but the rack of donuts behind the register and the baking kitchen beyond the window is exactly the same. And I was beyond pleased to learn Home Cut still operates around the clock. The memories of old men thumbing through their newspapers on their stools, belly up to the counters that lined the main room, are rushing back to me. The unmistakable aroma of black coffee. And the excitement of another Sunday morning making memories at Home Cut Donuts.
Merichka’s
Having made my home in Arkansas (which shares a border with Louisiana) for the past 17 years, finding a good po’ boy sandwich is no sweat. But in Joliet, IL (actually, it’s technically in Crest Hill), we grew up stuffing our faces with a different twist on this New Orleans original that was all our own — the legendary poor boy sandwich at Merichka’s.
Get jeff mores’s stories in your inbox
Join Medium for free to get updates from this writer.
Merichka’s poor boy sandwich is beyond simple, but the love and tradition that goes into each one makes it glorious. Long, hand-made steak patties cooked to perfection, placed on a loaf of toasted French bread, sopping in their aged garlic butter. And, yes, I said “aged” garlic butter. Watch the video below to see for yourself.
Merichka’s — and this poor boy sandwich — has been a staple in the Joliet area since April 18, 1933, when Mary “Merichka” Zdralevich and her son Joe unlocked the door at 604 Theodore St. According to the restaurant’s website, several additions were made to the physical space over decades to accommodate its growing popularity. I can tell you from experience, the maze of dining rooms reflect the patchwork. But the locals wouldn’t have it any other way, because that iconic, turn-back-the-clock Merichka’s sign outside and the signature poor boy sandwiches served up inside are part of the identity of the community.
Ace Drive-In
Ace Drive-In, located at Route 30 and Ingalls Avenue, has been a culinary tradition in Joliet since 1949. Ownership has changed hands three times, but always to another local family. Still the same great burgers, shredded BBQ sandwiches and onion rings I enjoyed as a kid, delivered by an actual carhop to a tray on your car door. The experience immediately transports you back to the golden age of drive-in restaurants.
I get extra emotional thinking about Ace because it’s a joint my dad, who passed away just last year, took our family on many occasions when I was a kid. The excitement of the carhops and the greasy perfection of those old-time burgers was worth the visit in itself. But absolutely nothing beat the taste of their big, icy-cold mugs of creamy root beer, especially on a hot summer afternoon. To this day, memories of Ace Drive-In in Joliet come flooding back every time I see, taste or even hear the words “root beer.”
Jody’s Hot Dogs
To be honest, I can’t remember if this hot dog joint, tucked into the corner of a small plaza on Republic near Glenwood Avenue in Joliet was called Judy’s or Jody’s when I was a kid (my memory says Judy’s, but it’s Jody’s now). But it doesn’t matter because my friends and I stuffed our faces with its greasy bags of hand-cut fries and Chicago-style hot dogs literally hundreds of times.
So many of the kids in the neighborhood I grew up in on Joliet’s west side would gather at a nearby church parking lot for marathon games of home run derby and street hockey. When we’d work up an appetite or thirst, we’d often walk from the lot to this hot dog joint to strap on our feed bags. We somehow managed to cobble together enough coins and crinkled dollar bills to buy some grub… and we’d almost always sit outside on one of the nearby parking blocks to eat. The conversations and brotherhood were just as much a part of the experience as the actual hot dogs. And, because of that, I get all the feels whenever I see a hole-in-the-wall hot dog joint just about anywhere.
Family Table
Ahhhhhhh, the Family Table. Or, as so many of us affectionately referred to it, the Family Stable. This place, which operated at 6 N. Larkin Ave. on Joliet’s west side for decades, has since been converted into a Big Apple Restaurant & Pancake House. But it would take a whole lot more than changing the sign on the building and the menu inside to erase the good memories so many Joliet natives — myself included — made here.
Family Stable served up sandwiches, burgers, all the sides you can imagine, soups, probably pastas, pies, omelettes, pancakes, sausage, bacon, salads, coffee … literally anything and everything you could ever think of. And, since it was always open, it became a favorite spot for high schoolers, party-goers, night shift workers and others to satisfy the munchies in the wee hours of the night and morning.
It was the kind of place where conversations and laughter were literally bouncing off the walls all night long. During my senior year at Joliet West High School in 1992, I remember rolling back into town at around 2:30 a.m. with a carload of friends after a Guns n’ Roses concert in Chicago. We headed directly to Family Stable to order omelettes, hash browns and — even though none of us normally drank coffee — black coffee. I remember wondering whether or not I was going to get in trouble for staying out so late, but we all shrugged it off and remained there, sipping on coffee and talking for a couple of hours. The concert was beyond amazing and none of us wanted the day — or the moment — to end.
That was the kind of place the Family Stable was. The time spent there with friends was what made the food, the environment and the memories special. These days, I don’t get back to Joliet often, but I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I go out of my way to drive past that building at 6 N. Larkin Ave. just to relive that post-Guns n’ Roses concert evening in my head again. Heck, I don’t even think I went to bed that night — just got home as the sun was rising, hopped in the shower, changed clothes and went to school.
Traditions, history and community
As I typed about my childhood memories associated with these restaurants, I had to chuckle. I’ve become a foodie over the years, but my excitement around food has always been tied to the traditions, history and sense of community around it. Sure, food sustains us, but it also brings people together. People make memories around pizza, BBQ, burgers, giant mugs of frosty root beer, and more. For me, those glorious gathering spots are often hole-in-the-wall joints. But the traditions those places represent — and the conversations we share while gathered around their tables — are among the moments I treasure most.
And, I’m willing to bet I’m not the only one.
