NoonEats: Bacon Cheeseburger from Campus Sub Shop II

The storefront of this longtime Morris Avenue institution never appeared inviting. Walking by the Campus Sub Shop II dozens of times, I assumed it was similar to a Subway. Instead, it's a luncheonette with a friendly staff—more like a diner than a Blimpie.

Much of the kitchen prep area is visible from the bar, where one can eat on a stool and chat with the owner and employees. I headed for the back and grabbed the last booth, having a seat on the vinyl-covered bench and placing my phone and camera on the green table. Across from me, near the rear entrance is a stand half full of gum and candy, looking as if it had just come from a Foodtown checkout aisle.

CNN blared above me, partially obscured by a hanging light fixture. As the anchorman talked on and on just to fill up time, I was reminded why I do not watch 24-hour news. When he said "For those of you watching at home, we will soon be joined by ..." the copy editor in me went nuts. What about those of us watching from the Campus Sub Shop? Why even say "for those of you..." when you're speaking for a camera? 

The crowd here was diverse—a business man in a suit sat behind me, eyes intent on the repetitive aerial shots of flooding in Oklahoma City. A middle-aged woman and a young boy sat across from me. And farther toward the front were two heavily tattooed construction workers. The customers shared one thing in common: They all seemed to know the staff.

The three-page menu includes subs, burgers, salads, wraps, hot entrees and breakfast served all day—a much wider selection than I expected. At the end of the menu is a note that Campus Sub Shop also sells cigarettes, newspapers, milk, butter, potato chips, eggs by the dozen, etc.

So this is part luncheonette, part convenience store, and all of it a little strange. Like a character in The Lion The Witch and the Wardrobe, I wondered if I was still in downtown Springfield, or if that front door had taken me to another state.

For lunch, I stuck with one of the most basic selections, a bacon cheeseburger with fries.

The hamburger's large poppy-seed kaiser roll was impressive, as was the thick, crispy bacon inside—much more real than the bacon on a fast food burger. The hamburger patty was thin, but juicy and flavorful. The cheese, a bland slice of American.

The fries were large, thick-cut and unsalted—the antithesis of fast food fries. Mr. Bloomberg and the health police may approve, but the lack of salt annoyed me. I shook the salt shaker over the fries, but much of it bounced off the fries and onto the table.

For less than $6, I have no complaints. This quarter-century old downtown institution where everybody knows everybody's name but mine seems a popular, albeit surreal, spot with friendly service and an affordable, enjoyable lunch.