For nearly a century, Summit Diner has been a fixture in northern New Jersey. Opened in 1939, it’s one of the oldest diners in the state, a place where regulars and newcomers alike gather over steaming cups of coffee and classic diner fare. For me, it’s also been a lifelong calling.
My family has owned Summit Diner for over 60 years. My uncle and father-in-law bought it in 1964, and I started working here as a young man in 1980. Since then, I’ve poured 45 years of my life into this diner. I’ve watched kids grow up at these booths and return as adults with their own families. I’ve seen everyone from construction workers to bankers, tourists, and even professional athletes come through the doors.
The diner is more than a business — it’s a community. And part of that community means staying true to who we are. That’s why, even as food trends have shifted, I’ve made one thing clear: you won’t find avocados on the menu at Summit.
Why I Won’t Serve Avocados
It’s not that I have anything against avocados. It’s that they don’t fit who we are.
Over the years, we’ve experimented with different menu items. We tried fresh fruit — but it didn’t move. We considered fish, but our regulars weren’t asking for it. Avocados are the same story. They spoil quickly, we don’t have experience working with them, and they just don’t belong on our menu.
Our customers don’t come to Summit for the latest health craze. They come for the classics: steak and eggs, homemade corned beef hash, and our famous Taylor Ham, egg, and cheese sandwiches. I like to joke that we don’t serve anything healthy here — and people love us for it.
Preserving a Legacy
While Summit is still going strong, the future weighs heavily on me. I don’t know who will take over when I eventually hang up my apron. My kids are well-educated and have chosen different career paths, and my wife is eager to travel once I retire.
The thought of renting it out worries me. Too many diners have lost their soul after being remodeled or sold off. Summit is still largely original: the mahogany wood trim and paneling, Italian marble countertop, tiled floors and walls, and those classic booths and stools — all dating back to 1939. That authenticity is what keeps people coming back.
Diners are part of New Jersey’s DNA. We have more diners than any other state, and they’ve always been gathering places where everyone feels welcome. I hope that tradition continues long after I’m gone.
How COVID Changed the Diner Business
The pandemic was a turning point for us, as it was for so many small businesses.
Before COVID, I paid about $1.20 for a dozen eggs. During the height of the pandemic, that number spiked to $8.60 before eventually leveling out to around $3.75. Even Taylor Ham — one of the cheapest proteins we used to buy — nearly doubled, jumping from under $3 a pound to $5.75.
Rising costs forced me to raise menu prices, though I’ve worked hard to keep them reasonable. We also made operational changes. Before the pandemic, we ran two shifts, serving from 5:30 a.m. until 8:30 p.m. Now, we stop cooking at 3:30 p.m. This cutback helped us stay profitable while easing the strain on staff.
At the same time, we adapted with new offerings. We added outdoor seating that doubled our capacity, and we leaned into takeout orders more than ever before. These changes kept us afloat and gave us a new model for the future.
A Life Built Around the Diner
Running a diner is demanding work — long hours, constant challenges, and never-ending maintenance. But for me, it has always felt natural. My father owned a diner in Irvington, and from the time I was 12, he had me working weekends at his place. By the time I joined my uncle at Summit, the business felt like home.
Now, I work just four days a week — Thursday through Sunday — and longtime employees help keep the diner running when I’m not there. After decades of 14-hour days, this balance is welcome.
Still, I know time is catching up. My knees aren’t what they used to be, and I hope I can keep at it for another five or six years. After that, I don’t know what the future of Summit will look like.
Holding on to Nostalgia in a Changing World
In an age when restaurants chase the next big food trend, diners like Summit survive by staying true to tradition. For us, that means no avocado toast, no quinoa bowls — just hearty, classic fare served in a place that hasn’t lost its 1930s charm.
I don’t know how long I’ll be able to keep this legacy alive, but I hope Summit — and New Jersey diners in general — continue to endure. They are more than restaurants; they are living reminders of community, history, and a way of life that’s disappearing.
For now, I’ll keep showing up, serving regulars and newcomers alike, and protecting what makes Summit Diner special. After all, it’s not about keeping up with trends — it’s about keeping alive a tradition nearly a century in the making.
