It’s strange to see a 28-year-old in such bad shape.

But hanging in there, at 125th Street and Aurora Avenue in Seattle, is a restaurant from long, long ago. Well, OK, not that really long ago. However, every time I walk through those doors, it always takes me back.

The 125th Street Grill was born in Seattle in 1996. I had never heard of the place until one day, my former radio boss, Larry Nelson, invited me to meet him there for lunch. I would best describe it as a “divey” American diner. Glance at the menu and you’ll see what I mean.

There’s a lunch menu as well, featuring smaller portions, sandwiches, clam chowder and other standard fare and then, this page, which always cracked me up.

Salads from the Grill? So, you grill my salad?

After that lunch with Lar, the last one I got to enjoy with him, I didn’t make it back to the restaurant until years later when I got engaged and we were looking for a reasonable place to have a rehearsal dinner. Someone had suggested the 125th Street Grill and so, when we there to check it out, I remembered it from that lunch years before. They had a back room, a decent menu and so we booked it.

Over the years, it became our DeFacto destination whenever we wanted to do a family dinner somewhere. It was close by, never too busy, and had something for everyone, including “Early Bird Dinners.” On the rare occasion we actually go there in person these days, my mother-in-law will always look at the menu, and carefully weigh her decision: will it be the Early Bird turkey dinner or the prawns?

Starting during the pandemic, we moved to a “get it to go” routine, where we would order our food on the phone and then make the 5-minute trip and pick it up. Unfortunately, part of the routine has to include checking and double-checking the order and no matter how hard we try, there always seems to be something missing when we get home. (Last time, it was the cheesecake)

Last year, they had a sign outside that said something to the effect of, “Join us for our last Thanksgiving.” For the last couple of years, there have been rumors of the restaurant’s demise. We heard it was going to be sold, the building torn down and possibly returning in the lower level of a new structure. Then it, “we’ll be moving to a new location.” After a while, we quit asking because it seemed like no one really knew for sure.

On our last visit there to up pick dinner, there were several homeless folks standing outside. Inside, there may have been two people in the bar, and absolutely no one else in the restaurant. During the “hooker hey days” which were finally shut down last year, it wasn’t unusual to see a couple of the ladies inside at a booth, enjoying a break.

The only thing that has changed on their menu over the years are the prices. During the pandemic, when everyone else was jacking up their prices, items on the menu got a bump of $5 or so, and they haven’t come down yet.

You’ll definitely experience a time warp when you visit but do it soon. I’m not sure how much longer this time capsule is going to be around. The neighborhood just isn’t what it used to be. To the north, the Krispy Kreme that recently had to be evacuated due to a couple of people smoking meth in the bathroom, filling the place with smoke. To the south of the restaurant, the Les Schwab that was our go-to tire place suddenly shut down and put up signs they were moving to Edmonds.

Right next door to the Grill, there was a dilapidated Red Lion Motel which was torn down so that a tiny village could be constructed for the homeless. Graphiti pops up on the outside walls. A glass door gets shattered by someone having a bad day.

They’re putting up a good fight, but I really don’t know how much longer they’ll be able to hang in there. But for the time being, whenever we stop by to pick up our to-go dinner order, I can’t help but think about that last lunch with Lar, our rehearsal dinner, those gatherings over the years with my wife’s family, or that lunch with relatives visiting us from Florida–just a flood of memories, all happy times.

If you have memories of your own, I’d recommend one more visit and soon. However, if you’ve never been and would like to savor a thick slice of Americana while it’s still around, I know a place.

Tim Hunter