Larry Bly

Larry Bly eats out a lot, sometimes three times a day. To pay for it, he runs System4, a Roanoke ad agency, and is a freelance writer.

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WOODSTOCK -- When I was kid growing up in the Shenandoah Valley, we used to "go to town" once a week to shop for groceries. Town was nearby Woodstock, a charming and historic burg about halfway between Harrisonburg and Winchester, dating back to the Revolutionary and Civil wars.

The ladys would head for Wender's Department Store to see the latest fashions and I'd head for the Ben Franklin Store on Main Street to check out their extensive comic book selection. Back then, the Ben Franklin Store was a five-and-dime, carrying most anything you could think of, including small appliances. Many of my Aunt Toot's Christmas gifts came from there, as it was convenient, cheap and one-stop.

Many years later, the Woodstock Ben Franklin moved from downtown to a shopping center on the edge of town. The store changed mightily: Ben Franklins everywhere were turned into crafts stores where you can pick up those strangely colored plastic flowers to make your very own "floral tribute" for any occasion.

But the Ben Franklin in Woodstock boasts something that others do not: its own down-home, comfort-cooking restaurant with a separate entrance. This restaurant has been a mainstay of Woodstock for many decades. If you want to meet your neighbors over lunch, this is the place because it's cheap and serves good, basic food.

Meeting your neighbors at any restaurant has special meaning in this neck of the woods. And a restaurant had better serve food at least as good as you can get at home.

Many a dining establishment has come and gone in Woodstock because it was too expensive or too fancy. Surely quiche has never been considered at the Ben Franklin. Valley folks, like many here in Southwest Virginia, judge a good restaurant by how much you can pile on your plate for under $7. This is why so many Moose lodges do a landslide business when they open for lunch. My family belongs to one and they swear by the fried shrimp buffets on Mondays.

The Ben Franklin readies its food on a steam table at the end of the room, which is mostly used for waitresses to assemble "to-order" plates. Steaming away are mounds of homemade mashed potatoes, tons of beans, oddities like creamed tomatoes, and about anything else that strikes their fancy.

But mostly you order steaks, burgers, fries, gravies and the like. There's a grill, but if it's real food you want, it's real food you'll get. I recently ordered up an open-faced turkey and mashed potato sandwich, swimming in that yellow gravy that defies definition and no one's ever made at home. I love that stuff and always have.

The turkey tasted freshly baked. The white bread was, well, white -- and the mashed potatoes and gravy were heavenly. I was particularly bad on this recent day, finishing off my huge hot plate with delicious hand-dipped Garber's ice cream topped with wet nuts. Sitting there watching the wait-staff dip up all manner of ice cream, floats and sundaes just made me break bad, culinarily speaking. I left there feeling like many of the men there looked: stuffed. And it cost me all of $7.50.

Aside from the home-cooking and the ordinary surroundings of the dining room, what has kept people coming back though these many years? For decades, its dining room and kitchen have been under the watchful eye of owner/operator, Mrs. Garman. I'm told that even after all this time and her advancing age, she's there every day to make sure it runs her way.

The best restaurants require on-site owners. Many a fine restaurant has gone by the wayside because no one was watching over the place. This one charges reasonable prices for basic food. Nothing fancy. Nothing extraordinary. Just what the people seem to enjoy.

They used to make their own pies, but the last few times I've been in, theyserved pies that looked a little too perfect and taste like they came directly off the food service truck.

But their burgers look and taste like burgers used to before the rise of fast-food franchises. Same with the pork chops, the occasional baked entree and many of the side dishes. Most of it swims in gravy. I can't swim, but I'd take a chance diving into this dark and delectable goo.

The wait-staff is busy. Friendly if they can find the time. Everyone, even in this small town, now seems in a hurry to get back to whatever it was they were doing, so the waitresses really have to put a move on. Food comes out fast and hot. The dinner rolls are not homemade; and worse, are no longer steamed. I watched as a waitress microwaved one into submission the other day. Microwaving is the worst thing that ever happened to bread.

I enjoy eating at the Ben Franklin because it brings back memories of my many meals and laughter with my family and friends. It's not just the food that's comforting.

Ben Franklin Restaurant
Woodstock Shopping Center
Woodstock, Va.