These days I find myself feeling a little nostalgic. I look backward for the country I recognize, for baseball that makes sense, and for an eatery that never disappointed.
Before I go full old-man-on-the-porch shouting at the kids to get off his lawn, let me explain. It’s about the sale of Marin Joe’s.
I came to Marin after the divorce-from-hell, knowing a handful of people, and having to learn all the things a newcomer must discover. Where to eat breakfast? What were the local politics like? What does organic mean?
One day while driving on 101, I glanced over and saw Marin Joe’s in Corte Madera. I was familiar with the Joe’s concept since my dad had taken me to Original Joe’s in San Francisco’s Tenderloin—while Pops ordered Joe’s Special, I was partial to the burger. They were happy to bring it medium-rare; this was long before restaurants got a case of the jitters if that temp was brought up. The place was always jammed even though the neighborhood was sketchy.
I popped into Marin Joe’s one day and sat at the counter, it was like déjà vu all over again. The red banquet seating, the pasta and grilled meat living side by side, the heavy-handed cocktails. The old-school piano bar where patrons might join in on the chorus, some of them perhaps over-served. Light was the enemy at Joe’s; it was a place where vampires could have dined in comfort.
Later, when I met my wife-to-be Cindy, I took her to Marin Joe’s for our third date. Everyone was eating sushi, talking sushi and being trendy as hell. I told her we were going for politically incorrect red meat, though if I remember, I couldn’t resist the chicken scallopini. The table side Caeser salad was insane. Talking to the servers they all seemed to have been standing on the property when the place was built. Cindy said they were well-seasoned.
And there was almost always a wait for a table. But folks took that in stride, ordering a cocktail and talking to the others hoping to score a booth.
And now it has closed, as the Della Santina family, the owners of the iconic eatery, decided it was time to move on. They sold the joint to the same folks who own the Barrel House Tavern in Sausalito, who plan on dragging the restaurant from the 1950s into the current century, remodeling it and bringing the place up to code before reopening as a Joe’s-style restaurant.
The hospitality business is a tricky one. According to industry data, 60% of new eateries in the U.S. shutter within a year of opening and 80% close within five years of opening. So how do you explain Marin Joe’s success? I mean the place debuted when God was a boy, or 1954, you pick.
The quality of the food obviously is important. Location is definitely in the mix. And the style of food is a factor as well. So, the level of deliciousness with Marin Joe’s was never in doubt. The location, a frontage road with car dealers and the odd hotel didn’t scream ease of navigation, you had to know where you were going. And while the hearty red sauce Italian fare might have been a cardiologist’s dream, people didn’t go to Joe’s for health food.
I’m not going to compare Joe’s and the fictional Cheers , where everybody knew your name. But I do think that the old-fashioned menu struck a chord with Marin diners. The plates turned out by the open-style kitchen were decidedly not haute cuisine. But for many Joe’s was comfort food.
Because sometimes comfort tastes like prime rib.
While many restaurants rely on their bar to juice the margins or to cover the sins of their kitchen, the bar at Joe’s was a gathering place. The black-and-white photos contributed to an ambiance not found in watering holes. It wasn’t a beer-and-a-shot joint, nor was it wine heavy, though there wasn’t any kind of grape shortage going on.
No, it was more the kind of establishment where the cocktail shakers needed to be replaced with some frequency. Folks ordered drinks that didn’t skimp on the booze and the noise from the rattle of the shakers was only rivaled by those shaking dice cups for the round.
Perhaps the new Joe’s will provide more delicious food that feeds the soul and beverages that quench more than a thirst.
The much larger question is whether the new place will help hungry patrons build memories. It is my utmost hope the newly remodeled and polished restaurant will still serve some of that old magic.
