Phoenicia Diner is a Classic Diner with a Modern Twist

Way out past Woodstock on Route 28, the space between buildings grows wider as you continue westward. I pass my old elementary school, the turn for the home where I grew up and the old building that housed my family’s restaurant for decades, a long time ago. There are no big box stores, chain restaurants or chain gas stations (not even a Stewart’s). The billboards dwindle in numbers, houses grow more modest and the businesses shrink to just a few mom-and-pops. And yet, a handful of popular destinations dot the landscape: Belleayre Mountain Ski Resort, several famous hiking trails and campgrounds within the Big Indian Wilderness.

And, of course, the Phoenicia Diner.

The restaurant, nestled among mountains across from the Esopus Creek, seems shrouded in mist every time I visit. Built in 1962 and moved from New Jersey to Upstate New York in the ’80s, the classic glass-fronted structure embodies Americana. Like me, the owner, Mike Cioffi, has memories of passing the place years ago. “Someone should buy that fantastic building and bring it back to life,” he’d say. In 2011, he turned it into a destination, a real little slice of diner magic.

Inside the Phoenicia Diner, it is warm and comfortable, authentically old-school with counter seats and chrome accents, buzzy with skiers, hikers or leaf peepers depending on the season. Most of what’s on the menu is local. The corned beef is cured in-house and all desserts are baked there too. The fries are blanched and crispy, and the onion rings, puffy with beer batter and heavily seasoned, may be the best I’ve ever had. The draft list boasts local favorites like Westkill’s Brookie and Catskill Brewery’s Devil’s Path. Even my hot cocoa is made with Fruition Chocolate, produced just about 10 minutes down the road in Shokan. I’d like to linger for hours watching the line cooks elegantly churn out steaming stacks of pancakes through the kitchen window.

Pulling out of the parking lot I drive east, back towards Kingston. The billboards creep back into sight, and a Dunkin’ Donuts sign now glows on Levon Helm Boulevard. As I leave the tiny motels with signs boasting “color TV” behind, it feels like 2025 again. A drive back into the future. But how nice it is to know that whenever I want I can drive back out on Route 28, I’ll see the Phoenicia Diner and step back in time again.