I recently had the pleasure of taking a day outing with my grandmother to Rockvale and Eagleville. Both were city names that I had heard all of my life but had never really spent any time in either. The main reason for picking that area of the state was to go and try the Fried Tater Café in Rockvale. It had popped up numerous occasions on social media over the last few months and so we figured why not give it a try.

Located in an old general store, the restaurant offers a variety of options and has even picked up some local “Best” awards for its area.

We were both pleasantly surprised at how good the food and service were. Both of us had burgers, and they were everything that you hope a good burger will be juicy, well-constructed, fresh and crisp toppings, just the right amount of sauce.

In hindsight, I should have known that it was going to be a great experience from the moment we opened the door to walk in as we were greeted by the familiar squeak of an old storm door.

Any other situation where you find yourself with a squeaky door, it’s immediately recognized as an annoyance that can be easily remedied by a good dose of some WD-40. But in a restaurant setting, more often than not, a squeaky door means you’ve found yourself in the right place.

You may be wondering to yourself “Wait, can you really judge the quality of a restaurant by one minute detail such as that?”

My answer would be “Absolutely!… sometimes.” There are those off occasions where a squeaky door can mean poor maintenance. Those places are easily identifiable. If you walk in and the wait staff seems incredibly surprised to see you and greets your party with “Oh, um, hello!?” because even they can’t believe someone is eating there, kindly tip your hat and promptly exit the premises.

Chances are they were at one time great but declined in quality. Those occasions are rare, though, in my experience. The squeaky door to me most often signifies a large number of folks going in and out. The more the door opens, the squeakier it gets. A good sign, indeed.

It harkens back to those old country kitchens that seem to be ever fading as the years go by.

Woodbury, where I grew up, had a handful of those establishments as I’m also certain Manchester did as well.

Our two main restaurants in that category were Kathy’s and Joe’s. Two separate places that offered similar fare but also had their own calling cards.

Joe’s had your typical meat and three dishes but also offered interesting items like a taco salad and a Joe’s Salad which featured everything you’d want in a good salad plus the addition of tater tots. An oddity that shouldn’t have worked but absolutely did.

Kathy’s most unique offering was their Cheeseburger Pie; a mix of ground beef and cream of mushroom soup topped with American cheese and a pie crust. Another item that, by concept, shouldn’t have worked but did.

While both restaurants had their uniquities, they both shared one common quality that was ultimately the reason for their abundant and long-lasting success: their atmosphere.

You walked in to the tune of the squeaky door’s short song. A pleasant tune that I only grow fonder of as the years roll on.

That sound is then immediately overtaken by the ambient hum of about 20 conversations going on at the same time. It’s noticeable but not obnoxious. It’s a sign of life and community.

In the background you hear the sizzle of burgers on the griddle, a cooking method that I have yet to see topped when it comes to burgers. The fryers are bubbling next to it as you hear the occasional shout from one of the waitresses calling in an order.

Somewhere in the building is a table that seats larger parties. This table is almost always filled with the scholars and laureates of the town. It’s most commonly referred to as the “Liars’ Table.”

The townsfolk that walk in the door are greeted, not by a hostess, but by a staff member behind the counter who says “Hey y’all! Just have a seat anywhere,” or even by someone in the crowd of diners shouting a Southern colloquialism like “Man, they’ll let just about anybody in here!”

A variety of restaurant types is a necessity in this world. You have your fine dining occasions and your fast-food needs. Sometimes you can hang out for hours, and sometimes you’ve got to be gone in five minutes.

My biggest problem, though, with some restaurants today is that they’re so focused on being perfect and pristine that they lose their soul in the process.

I’ll gladly take a slightly sticky floor if I know that the staff works hard and maybe just haven’t gotten to it yet.

I don’t mind the smell of grease in the air if it means that the plate of food I’m about to receive is so tasty that it triggers something deep inside me that causes goosebumps on my arms and a tear to form in my eye.

A squeaky door doesn’t bother me if I know that I’m walking into a place that feels like home.