Photo by Kensie Wallner

CJ’s Review

By Neil Schloesser
Contributing Writer

The restaurant is packed. Every booth, table, and seat at the counter is full. I feel at home and like I’m visiting a far-flung diner in a remote part of the state. Everything feels foreign yet familiar.  It was the atmosphere that Randy’s and the Village Inn try for but fail to capture. The waiters are moving about and the conversation is humming. Judging by how often the menu says “fresh,” it would appear that most, if not all, of their menu, including their desserts and soups, are homemade. That is a high selling point. If I can’t make fresh food then I’d like to eat someplace where the food is actually made on site, not assembled on site.

I’m at CJ’s Kitchen. I’m sitting with two seventeen-year-olds from Nebraska, Brandon and Kevin, and a seventy-one-year-old woman named Pat. I’m swearing a lot. There’s a lot of the f-word. I sound like a dumb shit. I’m watching my behavior from a mental backseat. I know what’s going on and I’m disgusted but the ride is in motion. I also like the restaurant. A lot. A lot, a lot.

The seventeen-year-olds with thin scratches of facial hair are talking about boobs. I’d guess they’re years from anything more than accidentally touching one. They both order burgers. I get a meatball sub with a side of chili. Pat gets a grilled cheese.

“Did you hear about the man who showed up late to his own funeral?” Kevin smiles widely.

That’s the joke. I get it but don’t react. “Surely there’s more,” I think. There isn’t. Brandon laughs hysterically.

The food is brought to us and I notice my mozzarella cheese looks fresh. The menu said it would be, but the definition of fresh can vary widely. This looks like they took a ball of mozzarella cheese and tore off chunks. The sandwich is big. It’s fork and knife all the way. The meatballs are seasoned well and the dish’s flavors are well-balanced. Presentation is simple: white plate with food. We dig into our meals and the conversation stops while we take our first bites. The conversation begins again with, “My truck has a cattle pusher and it’s the real thing. It’s all steel,” Brandon says.

“What’s a cattle pusher?” I ask. Brandon laughs good-naturedly. He said it is a piece of farm equipment that had utility but has now become a fashion accessory for men and their trucks. It’s like a rural version of being metrosexual.

Pat and I discuss the restaurant while the boys engage in a young bromance, making each other laugh and oblivious to the two old fogeys.

“Well Neil, I’ve already been here four times,” Pat said proudly.

“Hardcore,” I say with playful seriousness.

I believe her. Word around town is that this place already has a dedicated following. When we entered the doors of the old Red River Coffee, Starbucks, and Pizza Hut, we actually had to wait to find a seat. I understand why. CJ’s doesn’t have the pretentiousness that some new restaurants have or the dive atmosphere that older (and sometimes new) restaurants cultivate, and the food is both good and fresh. Nothing beats good and fresh. Nothing.

IF YOU GO:
WHAT: CJ’s
WHERE: 601 S. University Drive, Fargo
HOURS: 6:30 a.m. to 3 p.m. Monday through Friday, 7 a.m. to 3 p.m. Saturday, closed Sunday
CONTACT: (701) 237-4656, cjskitchen-fm.com

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