June 28, 2001

Plains Folk: Drive-ins to Die For

Tom Isern, Professor of History
North Dakota State University

I’m a sucker for a drive-in restaurant, especially a hokey one with speaker-phones and a neon sign and maybe even some sort of outlandish architectural motif. Like the Kegs. I get sloppy joes at the remnant of this once-great regional chain in Grand Forks mainly because I like pulling up in front of those goofy orange kegs.

The Zesto is another chain with independently owned remnant restaurants across the northern plains. The one in Brookings offers rhubarb milkshakes. The one in Pierre is a great gathering place on summer evenings, offering gloppy specialty sundaes and little bitty cones that people feed to their Labrador retrievers. Nice neon cone-sign on top, too.

Scotty’s was another regional chain that has severed appendages still alive out there, as in Aberdeen and Bismarck. I particularly like their signs out front, with those stacked discs evoking a sputnik era when you might get a coke after school and then go home and tune in Captain 11.

By and large, unfortunately, the independent and regional chain drive-ins across this country have given way to the international entities with whopping advertising budgets. I never enter any such establishment that I see on television. On the other hand, I am drawn irresistibly to a small-town drive-in with hand-lettered signs.

The truth is, if you want the American drive-in experience, you are best advised to go to Canada. I mean specifically Winnipeg. Despite the inroads of the multi-nationals, you can still find great neighborhood drive-ins in the Peg.

Check out, for instance, V.J.’s Drive-In right downtown, on Main just south of Portage. Old Val Koulouriovis, the Greek immigrant gentleman flipping burgers in there, has been at the grill since 1958. The V.J. Double Special is just $3.50 Canadian. It’s piled high, and the chili sauce gives it a bite atypical of fast food. You have to be young and vigorous to finish an order of fries at this place.

Or drive out east on Marion to the Dairi Wip. It’s run by another Greek gent named Lambos, who put up the blue neon cone-sign out front in 1959. Get yourself an order of fries with chile and you’re set. The chile doesn’t have that much chile in it, but it’s richly flavored with some sort of herbal mix. It’s dry and bitter, and consumed with the fries, it gives you a wonderful sense of well-being. Burgers and dogs are impressive here, too. The Dairi Wip stays open until late night and is a favorite resort of youth and baby boomers alike.

As is, even more so, the Bridge Drive-In, a.k.a. the BDI. I confess I’ve never seen anything quite like the patronage at the BDI on a summer evening. I found at least 60 people queued into four lines awaiting service on a mosquito-plagued evening. Friends were hopping out of cars and ditching bikes to greet and hug one another in line.

The DBI dispenses 11 flavors of soft ice cream and a great variety of dishes, including a saskatoon (read juneberry south of the border) sundae. I was undecided on this, my second visit to the BDI, torn between the Peach Velvet and the Goog (a blueberry shake with hot fudge and bananas and whipped cream). The Peach Velvet proved a great, caramely choice.

The great attraction here, though, is the ambience, the sense of place. The BDI (766 Jubilee Avenue) is at the end of what used to be a vehicular bridge and now is a pedestrian bridge crossing the Red River to the shady Elm Park neighborhood. The red and blue canvas overhanging the service windows, the red and white benches, the riverside setting, the jolly crowd--this is a feel-good place.

Young lovers share sundaes on the benches and neck in the cars. The dusk is sultry. The ice cream is sinfully rich. Let me die here.

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Source: Tom Isern, (701) 799-2941, tom@plainsfolk.com 
Editor: Gary Moran, (701) 231-7865, gmoran@ndsuext.nodak.edu 

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