All Night Long... at the Macon Diner

All Night Long... at The Macon Diner

Chris Horne

Considering my antics in print, on TV and as emcee, it would seem that I have no shame. But, for some strange reason, I feel weird when I have to take a picture of my food on a restaurant spotlight assignment. I think people see me do this and wonder if I have any friends. Well, it’d been a while since I felt that awkward, so I drew my own name out of the hat for the Macon Diner, a new joint in the old bones of a long-vacant Applebee’s. My camera batteries died so not only was I the guy trying to take pictures of his food, I was the guy whisper-cussing at a camera as his girlfriend watched with amused sympathy.

But I digress.

Going in, I had mixed emotions. On the one hand, I’m trying to eat healthier—heart smart, if you will—and on the other hand, I really like grease and fat and things that taste like butter, which means I had a feeling that I’d like the Macon Diner no matter what. I say that because I’d already heard, despite their very recent opening, that they could be incredibly rude. That said, my favorite place to eat in Macon was once Denny’s. Obviously, good service doesn’t really matter to me.

As we waited to place our drink order, a guy—who I just realized may or not have actually been employed there (he had no uniform on)—came by with a “free sample” of chicken wings. In addition to being free, they were tasty but that kindness was wiped out when we learned they carry Pepsi instead of Coke, which I thought was illegal in Georgia. If not, it certainly isn’t good manners.

The menu is so gigantic that I’m quite nearly tempted to embarrass myself with that abused neologism adds enormous. In fact, swimming the menu’s vast sea of culinary options, its gathered smattering of international flavors, I was lost. It was both gigantic and enormous. And it took forever to decide.

My date, Doc Brown, ordered salmon over rice with a salad and lemon soup to start. She didn’t like the soup because it was tart, but I really dug it. She asked for another salad because the first was drenched in bad Ranch dressing with dead lettuce underneath. Not the best start. The waitress, by the way, wasn’t exactly rude, and she wasn’t extremely doting. She was, however, diligent with her service; she just didn’t seem very happy, which is certainly no crime.

My dish was one of the Greek sampler platters. It has a name—similar in nature to those named for Macon, Atlanta and Georgia—but I can’t remember what it is, and it isn’t listed in the expansive to-go menu. While the good doctor didn’t really enjoy her meal (and seemed grossed out by the amount of meat in mine) I gobbled away despite the fact some stuff was missing.

The dish was supposed to come with meatballs and gyro meat, but I had to ask for it, and when the waitress came back with the meatballs, she said there was no gyro meat. Though it’s rather inexcusable for the kitchen to send out a plate knowing they don’t have a crucial element of it, I soon forgave them because I was given beef souvlaki instead. (And my take-out box overfloweth.)

They also have massive desserts available, but you might want to take a second trip there for that. It looks sinful.

The Greek food wasn’t as good, in my opinion, as neighboring Papouli’s. The wings weren’t as good as nearby Rivalry’s. But none of these places is open for business at four in the morning. The Macon Diner is, and that’s its primary advantage. And there’s a bunch of different kinds of foods. There’s a lot to be said for that… especially at four in the morning.

Call him Mr. McCord

Food Pro: John McCord
by Alexander Bender

John McCord’s office reminds me of a big tree house. I’m not sure if it’s the way it sits back behind Satterfield’s, perched up in the air with a view of downtown out the window, or if it’s the pig figurines and other knick-knacks covering the walls. Regardless, after talking to John for a few minutes, it’s as obvious that only a few of his incredible stories are fit for all audiences as it is that he has a lot more of those little piggy statues.

Raised in Macon, after a stint in a Barnesville military school, John spent his teenage years working at an underground club called “The Cave” off of Mulberry Street. It was literally underground. The way John tells it, he learned a lot during his time there—not the easy way and not the hard way, but the fun way. See, on Friday afternoons it was John’s responsibility to head to the Macon airport and pick up a few things for the club. Like, lobsters and women. The women were from Miami and danced at The Cave, which John says was upscale… but with scantily-clad dancers.

After working countless bars, including The Cottage, Grey Goose and a brief stint at The Rookery when it was still a new bar, John graduated from Mercer with a degree in history. John didn’t feel much like settling down and managed the operations of Porky’s, a BBQ restaurant off Gray Highway. The business aspect of the restaurant was more than he cared for at the time, and partying is always easier, so John left not too long after. As a road manager for Chuck Leavell, John lost $20,000 of the band’s money, only to find it at the last minute in a guitar case where he had hidden it earlier. He dabbled in other ventures for several years, but his propensity for bar-b-que and partying kept bringing him back.

The urge still flowing in his veins as it was, John and a friend came across a place on New Street, formerly called The Beaver Hut. They decided to combine their knack for a good time and good BBQ—along with a strong business sense—to create a restaurant that would be fun to run and fun for the customers. The result, of course, was Satterfield’s (John’s middle name), which celebrates its 25^th anniversary on October 29^th.

Between the restaurant and the catering, John hasn’t slowed down a bit either. As he puts it: “I’ve been grinning ever since, and I don’t plan on stopping anytime soon”. In fact, he’s just packed more in. Consider his partnership with Skipper, owner of Jim Shaw’s. It’s a concept as brilliant as it is simple: joining the menus from two of Macon’s most popular restaurants and putting it on the waters of Lake Tobesofkee. You know it as The Fish n’ Pig. Plus, they put together the Fish n’ Pig Boat Crawl, which is now in its second year. (That explains the long train of decorated boats filled with happy, shiny people, all floating out on Tobesofkee to the sounds of live music on the deck of the Fish n’ Pig.)

Of course, this is a labor of love. John’s boat, a 1952 Chris-Craft Racing Runabout that he restored, is a regular fixture on the lake. When he’s not between the lake and his business, John settles in at home, “Pig Manor”. It’s a space he shares with over 7,000 different pig figures, a collection amassed over the years. Like John’s office, I can only begin to tell a fraction of the stories that he has, but one thing is certain, if being around people and showing them a good time is John’s fuel, he has a full tank and isn’t slowing down anytime soon.