Pittsburgh's Dormont Diner Keeps it Classic

Vicki Lawhorn doesn't just serve good food at her Dor-Stop Restaurant. She serves up community and a taste of the past. "This is like stepping back in time," she says. "I always called it, 'Cheers of Pittsburgh.' Everyone knows your name."

The Dor-Stop, which is sits inconspicuously between storefronts on Potomic Avenue, has been a popular breakfast and lunch place since they opened almost 18 years ago. The name comes from its close proximity to the trolley station, and, Vicki explains, "It's a small place, like a door stop." The restaurant is family owned and run. All the employees are family, or close family friends, says Vicki. Her husband, Bob, stands at the grill, expertly fashioning potato pancakes and making sure to give a hardy greeting to everyone who comes through the door. Their daughter, Pam, jokes with the customers as she takes orders and refills coffee cups.

The Lawhorns are on a first name basis with almost everyone who comes in. "Tony, you're up early today," Bob says as a burly, grey-bearded man walks in. Tony Morrison has been coming to the Dor-Stop for coffee almost every morning for the last ten years for one simple reason: he loves the place. Tony smiles as he tells about the time he surprised his wife on their 25^th aniversity by having a barbershop quartet come to the restaurant and sing to her. "It's like a big family," he says, pausing a second to nod hello to some friends who have just arrived. "Pretty much everyone is a regular. New people come in and fall in love with the place, and they keep coming back."

Vicki says that this is one of the things that makes the Dor-Stop a real old-fashioned diner. Diners were places where people knew each other. "It was a personal atmosphere. It's an atmosphere that existed years ago when people cared for each other."

Outside, snow flurries swirl gently and the white contrasts sharply with the sinister grey sky, but inside the Dor-Stop the air is filled with the aroma of brewing coffee and a delicious mix of pancakes and sausage. Even the old light fixtures seem to have affection for the cozy room that they illuminate.

Saturdays mornings tend to be busy times for most diners, and the Dor-Stop is certainly no exception. "Saturdays we're packed," says Vicki. "Sometimes we have people waiting outside drinking coffee." Nobody is waiting outside - not yet, anyway - but it's still early. Tony sits back in his booth and confidently predicts, "In about an hour it'll be jammed."

At the orange and brown counter that matches the decaf/caffeinated color-coded coffee pots sit Steve and Jen Tanzilli. The young couple has breakfast here every Saturday, but there is some confusion as to how long they have been doing so. Jen says two or three years, Steve and Pam insist it has been more like four or five. They chat comfortably with Pam about the plans they are making for the baby that could arrive any day. When they finally grab their coats and head for the door, Pam waves and says that she'll see them next week. Steve smiles at his wife and answers, "and if you don't, you'll know something's happened."

Dor-Stop regulars don't just know each others names, they know each others lives. Some have watched Pam and her sister and fellow waitress, Lori, grow up. They joke about Pam's husband, a mortician with the surname Bones, and one man mentions that Lori was a basket-ball star in college with such a sense of pride that one would think that she was his daughter. Glenn Winterhalter, a steady patron for almost 18 years, recalls with a sense of gruff fondness a time long ago when Pam was, "a crying waitress." Pam overhears this as she sweeps by with a pot of coffee. "That's true," she says. "All you'd have to say is, 'boo' and I'd start crying." He teases her, "Now she makes the customers cry."

Bob and Peggy Douglass are also Saturday regulars. "She always remembers that Bob likes strawberry jelly, and that my second cup of coffee is decaf," Peggy says as Lori reaches across the table and pours from the pitcher with the orange lid. When she neglects to refill Bob's cup, he explains, "she knows not to fill mine up until I'm done."

True to Tony's prophecy, the Dor-Stop is quickly getting jammed. People make room in already crowded booths for friends who are just arriving. The place is filled with the sounds of lively conversation, clinking dishes, and the sizzle of the grill.

If the Lawhorns know one thing better than their customers, it is their food. It is everything diner food should be: simple, fast, comforting, and mouth-watering. Banana pancakes arrive at the table crowned with butter and syrup, striking a divine balance of sweet and salty. Eggs are cooked perfectly to satisfy the pickiest of breakfast coinsures. Vicki likes the customers to be happy. "If someone wants their food a certain way, we make it for them. It doesn't matter if it's not in some handbook. That's what old diners were noted for." Old diners were also noted for making their food from scratch, says Vicki, and the Dor-Stop carries on that tradition. But just because they are willing to make you what you want doesn't mean they won't offer a few helpful suggestions. A diner novice, confronted with Vicki's daunting question, "how would you like your eggs?" timidly answers, "over easy?" Vickie is skeptical. "I think you probably want over medium. Over easy means the whites are runny." Then, overwhelmed by the number of toast options, the newbie chooses the last one on the list. "Raisin toast with potato pancakes?" asks Vicki, lifting her eyebrow. "How about Italian?" In the end, when the food comes there is no denying that Vicki knows of what she speaks.

If history is any indication, this inexperienced newcomer will soon be a regular. After all, who doesn't want to be where everybody knows your name?