Bert's tiny hot dog stand is world famous

Lila Porchiran, a cook at Bert's Hot Dog Shop in Atlasburg, Pa., serves up one of the tiny restaurant's world famous foot longs.

ATLASBURG, Pa. – Maryann Lyons picks through her foot-long hot dog with disgust on her face while seated in the outdoor dining section at Bert’s Hot Dog Shop.

The woman from neighboring Beaver County, Pa., is dining on a recent spring afternoon beside her husband, Larry, at a dusty picnic table beside the tiny roadside restaurant that has been drawing crowds for decades.

“It’s a hot dog,” Maryann Lyons says, rolling her eyes, when asked if her dog covered in mustard and onions is any good. “I’m here for my first time. He talks so much about this place I had to try one.”

She is not the typical customer of this busy Washington County establishment that has been in the same family for a few generations.

“People come here from California to Florida, and then they just spread the word,” said Lila Porchiran, a cook in the kitchen that is just 15 feet long and about 6 feet wide. “We’re world famous.”

The most-popular item on the menu is actually named the “world famous.” It’s a footlong smothered in ketchup, mustard, relish, chopped onion and chili. This full-meal-on-a-paper-plate costs a mere $2.65.

Porchiran said she couldn’t begin to estimate the number of steamed dogs the shop sells a day. “A lot,” said Porchiran, who shares the workspace with two other women.

Bert’s was founded 60 years ago by Marino Funari in the same spot along Route 18 near Burgettstown. Robert Bertolotti took it over upon Funari’s death in 1972 and it remains to this day in the Bertolotti family.

Patrons order food through a small window while standing outside under a small canopy, even in the winter. The roof line is strung with a strand of Christmas lights, several of which are burned out.

Tucked in a narrow room behind the kitchen is the dining room stuffed with two small tables, a black bar stool, five chairs and two park benches.

“There used to be an expansion plan,” said Larry Lyons, who deals in hardwoods.

He said the man standing in line behind him at the kitchen window mentioned he drove 25 minutes to get one of Bert’s dogs.

“Every trucker knows about this place.” Larry Lyons said. “They all come here to eat.”

(Published with permission of the Observer-Reporter)

The Whack-A-Kitty controversy

This YouTube video is bringing fame and controversy to Rob Belluso of Monongahela, Pa., a family physician at Centerville Clinics in Fredericktown, Pa., who posted it May 9.

Amanda's musings

Sonogram, originally uploaded by mgmcinnis.

I saw the first pictures of Lily last month.

My niece is set to arrive in September, but we saw her clench her fists and kick her feet during my sister’s sonogram, which turned out to be more entertaining than the last one.

When I went with Ashley during her first pregnancy with my nephew, Nicholas, now 5, I almost passed out. As soon as the sonographer said the baby was healthy, normal and of the male persuasion, I started fading fast.

The room went wobbly, I saw stars and a nausea washed over me. I left the room, and a kindly nurse at the hospital offered me juice.

I declined, and said I had again embarrassed myself. Weak stomach, I told her. I’m just squeamish.

“Oh, honey. Don’t worry about it. Lots of people get light-headed when they have blood drawn,” the nurse answered.

When I informed her that I had not, in fact, come into contact with one of her needle-wielding colleagues, she sneered at me, let out an audible huff and stomped away.

I thought that would forever be The Funny Sonogram story, but alas, I was dead wrong.
The second time around, no one was as giddy as Nicholas to find out if the new baby would be a boy or a girl. He had announced early on that his mother was going to bear him a little sister – so the sonogram was seemingly a formality.

I warned him before the sonographer lubed Ashley and started poking around her belly that we had to be quiet and be good during the appointment.

The quiet part lasted as soon as the image of his yet-to-be-born sister came up on the screen.

His eyes went wide and a smile crept across his face as he saw the baby open her mouth.

“Look at that, Aunt Mandy,” he laughed. “It’s like a baby TV.”

I stifled a laugh, shushed him and turned my attention again toward the screen, listening as the woman told us about the size of the baby’s brain and other parts.

A few minutes longer I noticed Nicholas squirming in my brother-in-law’s lap – a sure sign of boredom and a pending spaz attack.

“What’s the matter, bud?” I whispered.

He gave a huge sigh before answering:

“Aunt Mandy, why do they call it a ‘babysound?’ She’s not saying anything.”

My sister's sonogram

After explaining that he was getting babysounds, sonograms and ultrasounds confused, he nodded and went back to watching.

Just as the appointment was wrapping up, and the technician gave Ashley a towel to wipe off the jelly from her burgeoning belly, I asked Nicholas if he wanted to go outside and wait for Mommy and Daddy there.

He jumped off his dad’s lap and ran toward the door, emphatically waving for me to come hither.

I knew this look. Nicholas either had a bombshell to lay on me or an extremely important question.

“Uh, Aunt Mandy? When are they gonna pull her out?” he asked.

He thought the baby would be able to sit by him on the way home.

I explained that Lily still had to get big and strong before she makes her debut.

And I think that was one thing he actually understood that afternoon.

An editor digs a deck garden

By Liz Rogers, Managing Editor
Observer-Reporter and TWAB Guest Blogger

By the time you read this, I am hopeful that my deck garden will be flourishing. Or at least still living.

Unlike the Observer-Reporter's gardening columnist, Christie Campbell, I am not adept at sustaining plant life. While she attempts to cultivate a butterfly garden this summer, I will be babying a couple of tomato and pepper plants, in the hope that I can enjoy their bounty in a couple of summer salads.

Nearly every plant I have attempted to grow has either withered and died or succumbed to the nibbly nature of my perpetually hungry house cat.

Nonetheless, with the growing season upon us, I decided to try again. Rather than battling the rabbits that have made their home in the wooded area at the southern border of our backyard, I opted to try gardening in containers on the deck. Before going to the garden center for plants, I spent a little time researching my plan.

A cooperative extension service Web site assured me that, indeed, a patio, balcony or even doorstep provides sufficient space for a productive mini-garden. And, problems with soil-borne diseases, nematodes or poor soil conditions are easily remedied by switching to a container garden.

Already in possession of suitable pots, I consulted the list, noted the appropriate varieties and went shopping. As I selected a half-dozen healthy tomato plants and a couple of pepper plants, potting soil and fertilizer, my mouth watered at the vision of fresh produce dangling from green vines.

With renewed resolve, I drove home and began planting. Each morning, I check my crops, and each evening, I water them. The routine has been worked into my daily exercise regimen: Each of the three or four trips from the garage faucet up the 14 stairs to my deck garden – five-gallon watering can in tow – must be burning calories, right?

It’s been only a few weeks, but so far, so good. The plants are still green and growing. And even if my plants yield few or no veggies, at least I should be in better shape from hauling around that watering can.

Enjoy your own outdoor pursuits this summer.

(This story originally appeared in Living in Washington County, a publication of the Observer-Reporter. It was reprinted with permission. Photo was originally uploaded by Seth Dillingham)

Coshocton's corner cafe

By Michael Jones
TWAB Guest Blogger

COSHOCTON, Ohio – Nestled inside a century-old building across the street from this quaint farming town’s county courthouse is one of the best-kept secrets in Ohio. The food is fabulous, but it is the unique decorations that adorn the restaurant walls that keep your eyes wandering and easily jumpstart conversations.

On a business trip to tour the largest American flag production factory in the United States, three members of the Observer-Reporter stopped for a bite at the Courtsquare Café and commented more on the restaurants appearance than the food. And that’s not at all a poor indictment on the food. I gobbled down the Rueben with a side of long potato chips, while a co-worker ordered a ham-and-cheese sandwich wedged inside a soft pretzel. Each dish was arranged on top of a decorative London newspaper page covering the plate.

The Courtsquare opened in 2004 after the owner spent nearly $1 million to renovate this beautiful building on East Main Street, which sat vacant for 70 years. How a prime location like this remained unused for so long is surprising, especially with its close proximity to the Coshocton County Courthouse. Business wasn’t booming around noon, but a steady stream of businessmen came in while we waited for our food.

Over one booth hangs a 94-year-old invoice from the local glassmaker that announces a discount on an order of amber-colored bottles. Across the room are various railroad memorabilia that proudly display the area’s rail heritage.

But the most interesting item is an ornate bar that houses the cash register. Our waitress told us the bar was custom-made in England and cost more than she would like to admit. The restaurant also serves beers at cheap prices from the handcrafted bar. If only we weren’t still on company time and didn’t have to drive 120 miles home, maybe we could have poured a couple drafts.

Graveside tribute to a brave soldier

Members of Monongahela Veterans Council gather today at the grave of Sgt. Russell D. Wakefield to honor him during Memorial Day services at the historic Mingo Cemetery near Finleyville, Pa.

Wakefield was award the Bronze Star for his service in the U.S. Army during World War II.

He is buried near prominent men who participated in the Whiskey Rebellion, including the notorious Tom the Tinker.