An ode to Eddie Rocket's – with bonus #OOTD
It's really weird to imagine a world without Eddie Rocket's – and by that I mean, it's weird to think that Eddie's is an Irish joint. It just does the American diner thing so very well.
My first Eddie Rocket's
I remember my first Eddie's vividly. There was a location, I think, on Baggot St; my Dad worked in the IBM on Burlington Rd, and we went to Eddie's one Christmas season, as our post-looking-at-the-Brown-Thomas-windows treat. We were all class back then. In later years, we'd graduate to Captain America's, and one especially special year we went for the pre-theatre menu in Chapter One. In October. (We did Christmas early that year.)
Making a regular habit
There was something about Eddie's that kept us coming back, although my Mum's fondness for the joint lessened once they stopped putting vinegar on the tables (something about drug users taking the vinegar to sterilise their needles, apparently). She loved the way the burgers were all well done, and the chips were especially salty and scattered with paprika for extra pizzazz. I loved the chicken tenders and the fun double-dipping potential (bad in waxing; good in fast food).
In my teenage years, we'd go to the Eddie Rocket's in the Square about twice a year – which, back then, was a regular fast food habit. Seriously; don't you remember when your parents would take you for dinner, as a treat, and it would be the first time you'd seen the inside of a restaurant in months? Now, I feel like I go to restaurants at least twice a week, which may explain, er, the necessity for my recent weight loss...
Anyway, we'd treat ourselves to Eddie's on the rare occasion we'd go to UCI; one time, we ate dinner in Eddie's en famille, before seeing Titanic with my grandad in tow (who just couldn't understand why everyone cried when, "sure, didn't they know what was going to happen?").
#OOTD details (I know that's the only reason you're here): Bomber (sold out, but similar*) and vest (here, only €14), both Boohoo.com; jeans (Amelie ripped hem jeans, sold out, but similar here*), River Island; bag, Fossil (no longer available, but similar here*); runners, Nike (similar here*).
Eddie Rocket's 4 eva
Now? Eddie Rocket's still features very regularly in my restaurant repertoire, although I'm glad to report that I've gone from a thrice-a-week habit to maybe once a month, as a cheat meal. I still love the chicken tenders, and I'm obsessed with their sweet potato fries, which make me feel like I'm making a semi healthy choice, even if I always order an extra sweet chilli sauce to lather them in.
There's something about the cheesy uniforms and the jukeboxes that don't work and the chocolate malts – oh, the chocolate malts – that will, I suspect, guarantee that I'm an Eddie Rocket's fan for life, much to my boyfriend's chagrin, who seems to think that, at the age of 31, I should be going to fancier restaurants.
But I'm not ashamed of my love for Eddie's – it reminds me of my Mum, Christmas outings with my family, cinema trips and the fact that my grandad just did not understand sentimentality. And those memories return every single time I eat there, sitting momentarily on the tongue, just beneath the taste of salt and chocolate and the sound of Shangri-Las.
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