I’ll be the first to admit, cooking has never really been my forte. Though to be fair, my cooking has gotten much better in recent years, “much better” meaning that I’m actually making an attempt to cook for myself and can successfully make toast that doesn’t crumble in my hands. Still, I’m convinced that I could live off cereal and peanut butter and jelly, or anything else that excludes cooking.

Untill there comes a day when there’s a market for the all exclusive cereal and peanut butter and jelly bar, I never pictured myself toiling at the grill of a small scale diner during the busy weekday lunch hours.

Yet toil I did in an afternoon working at the Caboose Diner on East Main Street in Norwich, thanks to the hospitality – and patience – of the diner’s owner and sole operator Kristina Passafiume. Passafiume awarded me the opportunity to work with her, side by side (and a little in the way) on a sunny Thursday afternoon, and generously overlooked the worst case scenario of me running out her customers and accidentally burning down her restaurant. I trekked the approximate 200 yards from the comfort of my cubicle at The Evening Sun office to the eatery housed by the unmistakable 100-year-old freight train caboose on East Main.

“It’s usually unpredictable,” Passafiume said while looking around at a still empty dining room at 11 a.m. “You never really know when you’re going to be busy and when it’s going to be a slow day.”

Still, even a lack of foot traffic yields no spare time for a diner owner flying solo. Passafiume was eager – almost too eager, in my opinion – to put me on dish duty. The pile of dishes left behind from the steady stream of breakfast regulars awaited. Usually, dishes aren’t a problem for me. I’ve done my own dishes for years and my broken plate count is still well under ten. However, I don’t usually wash spoons that have been in the mouths of strangers; but all is fair in the game of cook and serve.