Stop for a gourmet meal at a gas station? You might think I have fairly mediocre tastes. But I’ve had some delicious food, rich coffee, and great craft beer recently at Connecticut gas stations. Actually, at former gas stations that have forsaken fuel pumps, car lifts, and pneumatic tools for kitchens, tables, and dishware.
Snack machines filled with candy bars and soda aside, it’s hard to imagine a place less conducive to having a bite to eat than a traditional gas station repair shop with its smells of vehicle exhaust and surfaces stained with lubricants. Even when new, they’re not the most attractive structures regardless of their architectural efficiency in serving the motoring public, but when abandoned they become among the ugliest buildings at roadside, not usually places where you’d ordinarily linger over dinner.
It takes an acutely creative mind to reclaim and rethink a forlorn former gas station as a restaurant, so I surmised that the food at such establishments must also be imaginative. Experience has proved my hunch correct, and the meals I’ve had were not only pleasing to the eye, they were a delight on the tongue.
Once you get past the cinderblock walls and concrete floors covered with glossy enamel paint and the exposed wires and pipes, an old gas station has a lot to recommend itself as an eatery. The glass bay doors where cars once entered for muffler replacements and brake jobs flood these buildings with light, and high ceilings lend an unusual spaciousness.
If it’s breakfast you want or a quick but gourmet takeout lunch, it’s hard to beat Olive Oyl’s in the heart of historic Essex. The former twin bay brick gas station with a spire atop a small louvered cupola serves a tasty cup of coffee. Cookies, pastries, scones, and muffins are featured along with egg sandwiches and other morning fare. For lunch there’s an ever changing array of hearty salads and sandwiches, and delicacies like meatloaf, chicken pot pie, and short ribs. I had a Spanish rice dish (served in a cardboard takeout box) that was filled with chicken, chorizo and vegetables. It was satisfying, but so good I wished I was still hungry when done.
Olive Oyl’s has not forgotten its architectural heritage, and just inside the plate glass door two old fashioned globe top gas pumps stand guard on each side of the entry. To the right where the gas station office used to be, there’s a small dining room with laminated wood tables. The large garage space is divided by a counter where a glass case displays baked goods and colorful salads. Behind it food is prepared. On the opposite side of the room a high top eating counter with chairs runs along the glass bay doors offering diners a view of the street. In between are tables displaying a variety of alluring snacks.
A friendly staff greets strangers as if they were regulars. A host of nostalgic metal enamel signs advertises everything from honey to motor oil, Gold Medal Flour to tires. It’s a welcoming, cozy place and I quickly forgot that cars were once repaired where I sat.
Pizza and beer might have been the meal of choice at quitting time back in auto fixit days, but Pizzaco’s personal “garage fired” pies offer toppings like mashed potatoes, pulled pork, and pickled onions that old timey grease monkeys would never have tasted. The beer menu is vast, going well beyond the Miller and Bud that were common back in the day.
Located on busy State Route 130 in Stratford among a collage of commercial uses, Pizzaco celebrates its gas station heritage with antique signs advertising Fram oil filters, Firestone tires and various brands of motor oil. The takeout menu is termed a “map,” and pizzas go by names like Pit Stop, Green Light, and I-90 North (although the road runs east and west). The bathroom is lined with old license plates and road maps.
The restaurant is filled with light from two glass bay doors. The bar is L-shaped and has a metal canopy above it emblazoned with the word “lubrication.” Atop the canopy are tires and antique five gallon oil cans. The tables and chairs have an appropriate industrial feel. From behind a counter you can view the small domed pizza oven said to be made with bricks from the foot of Italy’s Mount Vesuvius. The place has a relaxed, fun loving vibe that remembers the golden age of motoring. I found the pizza crust satisfying and slightly chewy, the sauce a little sweet, the cheese flavorful and abundant. I’ll be back.
Perched on Broadway at the east entrance to downtown Mystic, M/Bar serves food and drink where Frank’s Exxon once filled your tank and checked under the hood. The pumps are long gone, but the large angular canopy that once covered the islands remains like an abstract sculpture in front of the low, boxy three bay structure.
My wife and I entered where the office once was, now a kind of ante room with plate glass on two sides. It led to a large two bay space with a zigzag counter behind which was a tall set of shelves filled with a wide variety of liquor bottles. The room featured an eating counter along one of the glass bay doors as well as tables and a circle of soft furniture in a corner. The third bay was a separate dining room with tables set and awaiting patrons.
While the walls were cinderblock, the floors cement, and the furniture somewhat industrial, there was a Spartan, understated elegance to the place emphasized by pendant globe lights with Edison type bulbs and a small vase of fresh flowers on each table. References to the gas station past were minimal, though the surroundings remain unmistakable. Our waiter exercised a welcoming blend of formality and cheer.
We’d popped in for a late afternoon coffee and snack. It wasn’t easy choosing among the scones, croissants, muffins, other bakery specialties that beckoned from a glass case. My cup of joe was full bodied and earthy, one of the best I’d had in a long time. Mary had a cherry mocha with the foam on top formed in a heart shape. After reading the varied wine list and peeking at a dinner menu that included intriguing dishes like kung fu salad, salmon piccata, and short ribs with polenta, kale and carrots we resolved to come back another time and spend an evening.
I’m continually amazed at how a wholly new atmosphere can be created within a physical structure intended for a very different purpose. If old gas stations can be reborn as restaurants, it seems that with a little imagination just about any building can be recycled into something new. Once called “service stations,” these old pit stops keep on serving, only now its sustenance for people, not machines.
