A Look Back at the Blackhorse by Sandra L. Crook

Looking back, I didn’t know I was part of something so special but that’s usually how it works. You don’t know how good it was until it’s gone. The Blackhorse restaurant was a place that knew your name, treated you like family. It had a soul, something restaurants hoped for, but few achieved. It began as a small, ramshackle diner in West Vincent Township, Chester Springs. In the 1980’s, a newer, modern version was built behind it to accommodate its success.  It stood at the top of Route 100 and garnered the nickname “The Hill.” Today, the building remains not as a restaurant, but a veterinary hospital.

The early diner was so close to the road one could almost feel the traffic shaking its joints. Twelve tables lined the perimeter, and the coveted counter space provided limited options for a busy, growing restaurant. Small square windows propped with wooden boards allowed some fresh air. Later, the modern restaurant was built and had an open floor plan, complete with skylights, which was popular construction in the 80’s. It was indeed a family business. Dan, the father, oversaw the operations and cooked when needed. His two sons, Mark and Neil, were the chefs who made the magic in the kitchen. And Sally, wife and mother, worked the register, handwrote daily menus and charmed the customers. The waitstaff was the glue who kept it humming for the public. During the late 1980’s and early 90’s, I worked at The Blackhorse. In hindsight, this “first job” had a tremendous influence on me. At first, I bussed the tables and later waitressed. It paid for much of college.  Working there, I got to know many of the farmers, landscapers, businessmen and the retired. This was the kind of place where different types of people dined shoulder to shoulder. Eating together was an equalizer and while their stations in life indeed varied, everyone showed decency and a commonality of kindness. In its 1990’s heyday, the Blackhorse had become a cultural touchstone for the community.

Before the sun rose, the cooks and waitresses arrived for the opening shift. First, coffee was brewed. Plating brown sugared, gooey sticky buns, spooning fresh fruit cup, and wiping down the counters were some of the early tasks for the waitstaff. From the kitchen, the smell of satisfying bacon could be smelt in the parking lot. Although not yet open, a few trusted “regulars” in the inner circle were allowed to enter through the back door, hearing the whistle and sizzle of the kitchen. To earn their keep at the counter, they fetched ice for the cooler and separated the unending basket of coffee filters used throughout the day. The early shift waitresses appreciated any help, knowing the crowd was soon to come. Smoking Pall Malls and exchanging morning banter was a part of the morning ritual and slowly the “counter men” settled in with coffee before the door was unlocked for the public.

One by one, early risers parked and filed in, pausing at the grease board to read the “Early Bird” specials. Generous mounds of sausage gravy and biscuits, along with oversized buckwheat hotcakes and honey butter were some of the hopeful specials. Others decided on everyday items like eggs, scrapple, and home fries. The food was truly “homemade”, made from scratch, as restaurants used the phrase. By ten ’o clock the floor was abuzz with familiar customers and the diner was in full swing. Gladys, Ruth and Monica, the long-standing waitresses, buzzed around refilling coffee, taking orders and balancing plates. Of course, the real balance came with making customers feel welcomed, well-fed and part of the Blackhorse family. Neighboring farms and small family businesses surrounded this part of the county, and many used it to socialize and learn the comings and goings of one another. Some would even return later for lunch. Farmers, tradesmen, policemen, and everyday folks used the Blackhorse as a gathering spot for coffee, a quick bite or chance to linger the day away. Trios of men held informal court, businessmen met for meetings, new-mothers and grandparents delighted in first time baby bites while others enjoyed a joke or a light-hearted moment with the waitstaff. Before noon, easily a couple of hundred or so loyal customers filed in to make the Blackhorse a daily ritual. Customers, many of whom were pillars in the community, were simply known by their first names and coffee orders. The coffee was bottomless and conversation was easy. Someone once commented, “Good friends know how you take your coffee.” The waitresses, mostly older women, knew if you took coffee with one or two creamers, Sweet’N Low or just plain black. It must have been comforting to know someone had your coffee set down before you took your jacket off. For many years, that feeling of family, a “chosen family” sustained us all. In the late 1990’s, the Blackhorse family business was sold and while another restaurateur bought it, it was never the same. The cooks left, the waitresses moved on and eventually the customers disappeared. The township continued to expand and the “once was”, was no more.  This feeling of familiarity had passed.

By the early 2000’s more families sold land and eventually developers arrived, built neighborhoods, shopping centers and brought traffic lights. Even though the restaurant is closed, there are remnants beyond the building. I recognize street names from some of the same customers who dined, sold land or passed away. Those names I served breakfast to almost thirty years ago are still visible and are remembered. Today, albeit different, businesses and developments bring a fresh perspective and offer new places. I welcome a community space that feels familiar and feeds our soul. Perhaps they too already know our names.

Sandra Crook began working at the Blackhorse Restaurant in 1986 (age 15) and continued through college and her overseas work in 1993. The Blackhorse family served an influential role in the community and her life. Sandra has been a high school English teacher for 25 years and continues to live in beautiful Chester County.