Topographia (top-o-graf’-i-a): Description of a place. A kind of enargia [: {en-ar’-gi-a} generic name for a group of figures aiming at vivid, lively description].
“Milly Joe’s Eats” was the pinnacle of eating out. I had been around the world five times and I always came back to Milly’s. It had a flashing neon sign that said “Mill Jo ats ,” it had been burned out for fifteen years and a lot people thought its truncated lettering was actually the restaurant’s name.
It was located in a former gas station down the street from The Rahway State Prison. Most of the guards ate lunch there coughing their heads off from the tuberculosis they contracted working in the prison. Between boughts of coughing and choking they’d tell stories about their lives and times as guards.
For example, one time there was a prisoner who thought he had escaped. He relentlessly looked for Cliff’s convenience store—he looked under his mattress, in cracks in the floor, even in the toilet. He needed to buy a scratch-off lotto ticket, a can of Red Bull, and a pack of tiparillo cigars. He did this every day for 25 years. Finally, his appeals were exhausted. He was executed. For his “last wish” before he was executed, he asked for a can of Red Bull, a lotto ticket and a Tiparillo. He drank the Red Bull and smoked his Tiparillo while he scratched off his lotto ticket. He won $1,000,000 and went off to get his lethal injection. The lottery winnings were divided among the 5 guards who oversaw the execution.
My two favorite things about Milly’s are the food and decor. There are only three things on the menu: breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Breakfast consists of three fried eggs sunny side up and calf’s liver with onions. Lunch consists of 4 slices of baloney, 6 saltines, mustard dip and calf’s liver with onions. Dinner is the best: pizza topped with American cheese slices, and calf’s liver with onions. Just thinking about it, my stomach is rumbling.
Then, there’s the decor. The are pictures of New Jersey Governors plastered on the wall, going back to 1925. The photos are candid and show the governors having a good time with their mistresses, taking bribes, shaking hands with Mafia Dons, and in one case, running over a chicken with a Ballot 4-Light Saloon Car.
There are no tables in Milly’s. There’s just one 150 foot counter that snakes its way around the restaurant. Oh, there is one table down in the grease pit where the lift used to be. Milly built in a ramp so people in wheelchairs can use the pit, but it is mostly for family gatherings: birthdays, anniversaries, engagements, etc. The counter stools are upholstered in “genuine” Naugahyde. When it’s time to go, you slide off your stool like it’s slathered with butter. What a feeling!
Milly passed away 20 years ago. She’s buried in one of the 300-gallon tanks that were used to store gas for the pumps when the restaurant was an ESSO gas station. What a beautiful sentiment. It almost makes me cry to think of Milly laying out there on her back underneath the parking lot.
So, if you’re ever visiting a friend or relative at the prison, make sure to try out “Milly Joe’s Eats.” It epitomizes New Jersey’s complex cultural matrix, providing hearty meals and good fellowship for over 100 years.
There’s a Milly’s tradition: Whenever a fly buzzes around your head, another meal has probably been served at Milly’s. Stop what you’re doing and give thanks.
Definitions courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu).
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