FROM THE

BY SARAH NIGBOR

The good old days at South Fork

When our new reporter, Melissa Thorud, wrote about South Fork Café owners Chris and Dawn Berendes selling the business, it brought back a flood of memories for me. I worked at South Fork for many years right after high school and during college. I have so many fun stories and memories from that time; I’m still friends with some of my co-workers to this day.

As a dishwasher, there was nothing like coming into work at 8 a.m. to dish carts overflowing with sticky, syrupy plates coated with dried on eggs and mountains of coffee cups and juice glasses. It was hard, hot work but it was so satisfying to see the sparkly silverware and rack after rack of clean plates and cups get put in their proper places, only to be dirtied again by the lunch crowd.

The busiest times were when a sports tournament was in town, especially soccer. Crowds of jersey-wearing children and their parents would pour in, and it was a mad scramble to get everyone fed and on their way. I wonder how many pots of coffee were made there over the course of its tenure. I bet it would fill a Great Lake.

When I first started at South Fork, I was a shy, introverted bookworm. Working in a restaurant will cure that pretty quick. When I left South Fork a few years later, shy Sarah was gone. I had to learn to master my quick comebacks to the cooks and regulars, who lined the counter when I was bringing out clean glasses.

I learned a lot about cooking while at the Fork. Then owner Dave Hudak showed me how to bake pies and cinnamon rolls. My friend Joey, a cook there, taught me how to make a mean omelette, and I became a master at deep-fried cheese curds. My mother worked there for a time, and I helped her chop and dice vegetables. I will say, portioning frozen hash browns was not my favorite task. We had to squeeze water out of them, and it was just a weird feeling, texture- wise.

South Fork even had a famous visitor or two. Actor Sam Shepard, who used to have a home with Jessica Lange near Stillwater, Minn., would come in and sip coffee quietly in a booth and read. I’ll never forget how mortified I was when I found out my mom asked him for his autograph. But he was always polite, just very quiet.

I worked with my share of characters over the years, who shall remain nameless. One of my favorite stories is when we asked a brandnew waitress to fill the ice bin. Typically, this was done by carrying two five-gallon buckets down to the basement, where the ice machine was located, filling them, bringing them back upstairs and loading up the ice bin behind the counter. I’ll never forget the look on the head waitress’ face when the poor girl presented her with a plate of ice cubes. I don’t think she ever lived that down. Or the fact that she thought cabbage was lettuce and served it in a dinner salad.

Working in a restaurant can get pretty messy. Think of all the grease and condiments and things you can spill. I was so happy I wasn’t the one who dropped a gallon jar of French dressing. That poor waitress looked like something from a horror movie murder scene after that exploded. I was also thankful I wasn’t the one who dumped a five-gallon container of freshly made clam chowder down the stairs. Although I was lucky enough to help clean that up.

I think working in a restaurant is one of the best ways to learn about hard work, efficiency, teamwork and customer service. When it’s slammed busy and every seat in the house is full with a line of tickets above the grill, it’s go time and everyone must do their part. It becomes like a family.

My son Ethan just started working at Mc-Donald’s. I love hearing his stories when he comes home, whether it’s about how he dealt with a rude customer, how he and his co-workers fed a busload of kids, or how he mastered a new skill. And it doesn’t hurt that he usually brings coffee home for me.