Country Cookin'

Alternating on the main drag with the faded neon ghosts of liquor stores and fast food Mexican eateries, in a desolate part of town one can’t exactly say is run down but obviously isn’t blessed by the refurbed feel of outlets just a mile west, sits a burned out, 1950s Corona landmark. While the Chuck Wagon Café deserves no accolades as five-star territory, this dive nevertheless stimulates the gastrointestinal juices at prices that won’t deplete the tax rebate check.  

Decked out in various shades of brown—chocolate brown booths, wood paneling, brown lamps and even brown in the floral drapes ripped straight from grandma’s old couch—the Chuck Wagon conveys a homey feel like a country kitchen out of the Midwest. Well, except that you can play the California Lotto at every table, keep track of your bets on TVs mounted in the corners while nursing a frothy mug and admiring the antiquated relics time-warped here from Grandma’s farm. It’s charming in a red-neckish kind of way, from the semi-blue collar customers who amble in and out of the bar entrance on the far right to its staple of menu items—all manner of meat and potatoes, hot dogs, hamburgers and sandwiches, even monster-truck sized breakfasts for less than a tank of gas. White boards advertising the daily specials line separate walls. Today’s particular specialties are goulash (here, a soup comprising of a mishmash of veggies mixed in with macaroni), meatloaf, a submarine and a Santa Fe sandwich. 

I arrive on a day when the air conditioning has gone kaput, ceiling fans and drawn blinds the only devices keeping the dry desert heat at bay. I slide into a rocky, off-kilter chocolate brown booth in the middle of the restaurant and let my eyes adjust to the barely lit dining room. My waitress, a functionally efficient yet courteous dame (who warms up after minutes of polite conversation), offers me up a glass of iced water with lemon, which I gladly accept, and their four-page menu, two of which are dedicated solely to breakfast. I settle in for a fajita and eggs with biscuits and gravy (my waitress proclaiming the biscuits and gravy as a particular specialty of the house) and pork tenderloin with fries and a salad. 

The food arrives in good time, hot and voluminous. The pile on my plate—beef mixed with red, green and yellow bell peppers, onions and topped generously with melted cheddar—arrives with grease oozing from beneath the mess and looks more like a stir-fried country scramble than a traditional fajita. The veggies are nicely caramelized and sweet against the tender chunks of sirloin, fatty bits attached for that extra chewiness and flavor. Oddly, though, it doesn’t taste pre-fab, but resembles more like a Sunday morning breakfast out of mom’s kitchen than typical diner fare. The buttermilk biscuit, while flaky, and the chicken gravy, while perfectly salty and fresh, don’t exactly mesh with a “fajita” although it works out just fine as a complement to the scramble. At the end, I’m glad I chose the biscuit over the tortillas.

The pork tenderloin, a longtime customer favorite, arrives as a crisp and breaded, thin cut of steak, tender and juicy to the bite. The canned and wilted green beans that serve as an accompaniment leaves me a bit jaded, but the side salad is a welcome surprise—a fresh assortment of greens rather than the expected iceberg and shredded carrot crap served by the likes of Norms and Denny’s. While not my favorite cut of meat, the tenderloin certainly stands up to the tenderloins of fancier two-star restaurants.

Nothing fancy here, but the Chuck Wagon delivers decent food at less than inflationary prices. You might want to forget prom night at the Chuck Wagon, but definitely feel welcome about hanging after a concert or night on the other side of town.

Chuck Wagon Café, 1070 E. 6th Street, Corona, (951) 737-7162. Lunch for two, $20. Open daily, Mon.–Fri., 6AM-10PM.  AE, D, MC, V