Dive bar, canyon country, Sunday afternoon. Hundreds of motorcycles — literally! hundreds! — pose out front, like some line of mechanical back-country bathing beauties. Classic rock blasts from the live band on stage. The dance floor is jammed and a bit sweaty, just like the tables filled with folks swilling beers, eating burgers, soaking up one of the last remnants of Wild, Wild West remaining in Orange County.
Welcome, folks, to the decidedly scrappy and truly beloved Cook’s Corner — home of “Cold Beer, Good Food, Pool, Entertainment, Dancing, Color TV” — whose devotees will never define it by the horror that visited on Aug. 24, Wednesday Spaghetti Night.
“It’s very personal for me — I made the first spaghetti dinner there, back in ’82, ’83,” said Joanne Hubble, who worked at Cook’s Corner and still lives just 2 miles from the place. “I had the best time of my life there. I was 21, 22, tending bar, cooking — a hamburger was $1.95. We didn’t have a deep fryer, so we served potato chips.”
There was this regular they called “Mayo Dave” because he demanded heaping scoops of the stuff both below — and on top — of his burger patty. On his birthday, they gave him a giant, five-gallon jug of mayonnaise.
There was Big Mac — about 4-foot-10 tall and 2 1/2 feet wide — who’d grab a baseball bat and run after you when he got mad.
“It was an amazing time,” Hubble said, starting to sing “Those Were the Days, My Friend…We thought they’d never end,” until she dissolved into tears.
It’s a gathering place, with happy hour and open mic night on Mondays, Taco Tuesdays and Thirsty Thursdays. If you look real close, you’ll see that many of the bikers at Cook’s Corner aren’t really, you know, bikers. They’re doctors and lawyers and professionals who do the weekend warrior thing, with motorcycles that are probably worth more than most folks earn in a year. Sure, you can oft buy leather vests and leather hats…
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