Goodbye, The Grit and Penny Cluse
R.I.P. to two iconic local restaurants in Athens, Georgia and Burlington, Vermont.
Is there a restaurant in your life that feels like home? I don’t mean in a home-cooked-like-Mama-used-to-make sort of way; it’s more about the feeling of comfort and warm fuzzies you get from going there. Is it the amazing food, the unique decor, the memories of people gathered there, the significant moments you experienced?
Earlier this fall, two of my favorites eateries, The Grit in Athens, Georgia, and Penny Cluse in Burlington, Vermont both announced that they would be closing their doors for good—the former in October, and the latter sometime in December. Together, they had been in business a combined sixty years. Located in two of my former hometowns, I was planning to write about them anyway. But I didn’t know, though, that I would be writing in memoriam, and that with their loss, a little bit of home—my home—dies with them.
Despite being 1,100 miles apart, they had a lot in common: the comforting and predictable-but-never-stale menu (heavy on the vegetarian options), the loving and inviting space, the friendly (or pleasantly grumpy) staff. These kinds of establishments are also assets to the community and to the creative people who worked there, some for many years, attracting artists and musicians as servers and lifting up those people in their individual and collective endeavors—the people on the ground, often unseen, who make a city the kind of place you want to live in.
It also means that when places like these fall under, a little bit of lustre, a little bit of spark, and a lot of personality is lost. In Athens, the march towards catering to over-privileged college students is not only a big risk but a reality, with gentrification threatening to overtake the quirkiness of the place but also the people who have lived there for generations and who are being priced out. And in Burlington, Vermont, which could use a little warmth these days (in more ways than just temperature), some of that fire dims with the loss Penny Cluse.
North or South, it’s going to be a cold winter.
If you’ve ever passed through Athens, Georgia, you’ve heard about The Grit. Maybe not quite on the scale of legendary, like Athens-grown bands REM or the B-52s, but somewhere closer to legendary than not. But not just vegetarians and touring musicians loved the place; locals of all types enjoyed eating there for decades. The appeal was in the artsy, funky aesthetic, in a building once owned by Michael Stipe, and the paint peeling off the walls and the two different dining rooms and the funny art in the bathrooms and the cool vibe of the waitstaff. In a university town, places like this are expected, and perhaps, taken for granted.
When I officially became a vegetarian back in 2004, I was living in the Southwest, and while it wasn’t impossible to find a vegan restaurant or vegetarian options, it was still pretty rare to find much of a variety. Veggie burgers (good versions and not-so-good versions) were plentiful, but one tires of those pretty quickly. So when my friend Julia (originally from Georgia but living in Phoenix) gave me a cookbook from The Grit for my birthday, I dove into attempting to recreate some of their recipes in my Arizona kitchen.
While not all of the food was southern-style (there was a dish called The Mondo Burrito), I had never considered that some of the staples I’d grown up with could be turned vegetarian, with all the richness of flavor but no meat. No collards seasoned with bacon fat, no gravy made with turkey drippings, no bean chili marinated in some sort of meat stew. It was the kind of food I didn’t know I’d been craving, and had no idea was even possible. (Don’t even get me started on Grit gravy. Perfection).
Up in the Queen City of Burlington, Vermont, Penny Cluse is located in a cute New England house that was, at some point, remodeled into a restaurant. Upon entering, you’d have to squeeze into the tiny waiting area (which was always packed) and then after what might have been an hourlong wait you’d be shuttled to either the front dining room, with big windows looking out at the church across the street, or the upper dining room, walking past the bowels of the kitchen to get there. (You’d actually have to walk almost through the kitchen to get to the bathrooms. It felt awkward, but also like being in on some sort of secret).
It was always warm inside, and while there was no actual fireplace, maybe my memories of eating there revolve around wintertime because it was the place of dreams and rom-coms, a cozy brunchy spot where you could always find something delightful to eat. There was a rotating array of art on the walls, 2-D sculptures of birds or lemons or other twee items, and the bathroom walls were covered in drawings by local artist Abby Manock. (Here’s one of the bathrooms, and here is her website with her other whimsical work; it’s awesome: https://abbymanock.com/).
And it’s no surprise that when anyone remotely famous came to town, they would eat at Penny Cluse. Celebrities who ate at Penny Cluse (that I know of): the ever-adorable Elijah Wood, Seth Rogen, Vice President (at the time) Biden, Bernie Sanders, and probably anyone from Vermont who is remotely famous, like Ben and Jerry, the guys from Phish, Anais Mitchell…okay, that’s all I’ve got, but it’s a good list!
But what about the food, Ashleigh? What made these places so so so good?
For me, the Grit’s Flagship dish was their Tofu Wrap, which we called the Special Tofu Wrap. We got it a lot at the restaurant and made it at home, too. The Grit cookbook taught me that the best way to prepare tofu is to pan fry it with olive oil, soy sauce, and nutritional yeast, and use a lot of each. We adapted the special tofu wrap recipe and make it using (in this order): tortillas spread with mashed avocado, the special tofu, shredded carrots, minced green onions, sliced red bell pepper, lettuce or some type of greens, and any sauces we had on hand, such as teriyaki sauce or any salad dressing. My favorite condiment to use is Momo Sauce, which is a Himalayan Style hot sauce and is amazing on eggs, on top of momos (Nepalese dumplings), and, of course, inside a Special Tofu Wrap. The only kind I have ever found is from Sherpa Foods, a Vermont company, and I haven’t brought myself to purchase it and have it shipped here, but I damn I miss that sauce. With that on the Special Tofu Wrap, it’s Athens meets Nepal by way of Vermont. (Or is it Nepal meets Athens? You know what I mean).
Penny Cluse’s flagship dish was, for me, “The Penny Cluse”, their signature breakfast plate with three equally delicious sides. It’s sliced potatoes sauteed with onions and turmeric and other spices, and they were best when some of them would get crispy on the outside and soft on the inside. The tofu scram was the best I’d ever had, and you could get it one of three ways (pesto, salsa, or ginger miso) and I would always get the ginger miso because of the way it caramelized and got all miso-y and gingerrific. (Shouldn't I be a restaurant critic with this kind of language and analysis)?
And don’t forget the biscuits (biscuits in general are extremely hard to come by in New England, and this was one of the only places you could find them at all, much less done very well), smothered in a green herb cream gravy, foreshadowing, actually, the herb cream cheese at a great bagel place we’d go to in Athens, Ideal Bagel. In the winter you could get fresh-squeezed tangerine juice in one of two cup sizes. And we always got the large.
I like the synchronicity, that meals in one place can remind me of meals at another place during another time of my life. The threads of connection spiraling together like endless tendrils of unfurled, uncut spaghetti noodles, traveling through space and time, from the brain to the heart to the stomach, warming you with their connection.
(I’m really trying too hard with that “restaurant critic” thing, aren’t I).
While I have had plenty of “meaningful meals” in my lifetime, both of these places have the privilege of hosting, on more than one occasion, some of mine.
Picture this: I was 41 weeks pregnant. It had been, at that point, the hottest summer on record in Vermont. I was waiting out the heat (and the pregnancy) on the top floor of my non-air-conditioned apartment building. That day, they were testing all the fire alarms in each unit. Ten units per floor, four floors, two alarms (at least) per unit. That meant the alarms would go off, for 5-10 seconds at a time, eighty times throughout the day. Eighty times. I didn’t want to go anywhere (the baby could come!), but I also couldn’t stay there. By late morning, I had a raging headache.
So when David called to say that he and his coworker Sara were going to Penny Cluse for lunch, and would I like to join them?, I jumped at the chance. We sat at a three-top in the front room with the windows, and I ordered their seasonal salad, a delicious combination of fresh greens, crunchy summer vegetables like fresh corn off the cob, and slices of watermelon. All of it spoke to the bounty of the harvest, the glow and gloss of summer, the delight of ripe fruit, salty sweetness and acid and crunch and pop.
Less than 24 hours later, my sweet summer child came into the world with relative ease. Coincidence?!
While somewhat less dramatic, my Most Meaningful Meal™ at The Grit was at the dawn of a different, significant journey; it was the first day of my attempt at a 400-mile hike on the Appalachian Trail. My dad and I started at the base of Springer Mountain, GA, about 75 miles from Athens. My mom, grandmother, dad, and I drove from our house in Columbia, SC and stopped at The Grit for lunch. I ended up getting a veggie dog and some collards, a great combination for setting off on a big hike. I don’t know what my family thought of the place—it was a lot quirkier than a restaurant they’d normally go to—but I’m glad that my first visit involved them, on a day that has become such a great memory for both me and my dad.
Two years later on our mini-honeymoon (another backpacking trip), I took my vegetarian husband there. And when we were thinking about making the move to Athens eleven years later, I couldn’t help but think that a town with a restaurant like The Grit was going to be a fine place to call home.
We supported The Grit during our time in Athens (my husband worked right down the street), both before and during the pandemic, where I would trudge in, sheathed in a mask, pick out a clean pen, sign the receipt, put it in the dirty pen cup, and roll home with tofu wraps or Thai stir fry or a veggie plate. And on August 7, 2020, our last meal on our last night in town was from The Grit.
It was a goodbye, but I didn’t think it would be our last goodbye.
But I have some good news! As of this writing, you still have a chance to eat at Penny Cluse, so if you were thinking about visiting Vermont in December (all that snow!), do not wait.
All of this is a reminder that if you love a restaurant, support it as much as you can. Eat there often. Get takeout. Tip generously. Spread the word and recommend it to others. It might not be there when you return.
I have my memories and I have my Grit cookbook. And you can bet if Penny Cluse ever comes out with a cookbook, you’ll find me in my own kitchen, working on perfecting my take on their herb cream gravy.
Important links:
Flagpole (GA) article: Over 30 Years of Serving Up Community
Garden and Gun article: When The Grit is Gone
Seven Days (VT) article: Notable Devotees Give Thanks for Penny Cluse
Avid Bookshop (you can buy The Grit cookbook and other merch here)
Reflection questions:
Back to my opening question: What is a restaurant that has felt, in some way, like “home” to you, and why? What was it about the food, the people, the ambiance?
Have you eaten at The Grit or Penny Cluse? What did you order? What memories do you have of your time at either of these places?
Do you have a story of a restaurant you once called home that is now gone? Do you try to keep it alive in some way?
The Grit was located in present day Clarke County, Georgia, on the land of the Tsalaguwetiyi (Cherokee, East), S’atsoyaha (Yuchi), and Mvskoke (Muscogee/Creek) nations.
Penny Cluse is located in present day Chittenden County, Vermont, on the land of the Wabanaki and N’dakina (Abenaki) nations.
Image: My birthday dinner, August 2019. Photo by David Ellsworth-Keller.
Fun post! Makes me really wish I had eaten at either of these places! Losing a great restaurant like this is like losing a friend. I had a breakfast place like this in Oak Park that I loved, and a coffee cafe in SF that had that same cool vibe you talk about. The only remaining restaurant that still feels like home is La Mediterranee Cafe in San Francisco - the one on Noe St. http://lamednoe.com/. They have several locations now but whenever I'm in SF, I HAVE to eat here!