One of the best places to dine in Cresco is a place I have trouble calling a restaurant, really. It’s called the Heritage House, and it really exemplifies that Midwestern spirit of making your own way.
The Heritage House used to be a church. I don’t know what denomination. I really want to say Protestant, just because all the Catholics in town gather at the Nortre Dame chuch/school/social center/probably bingo hall too.
Regardless, the church was closed down and abandoned. Then a woman bought it with the intention of making it into a restaurant (and still that word doesn’t seem right). Thus, the Heritage House was born.
So, why doesn’t the Heritage House feel like a restaurant? It does serve food, after all. And you have to pay for said food. That’s pretty much the defining characteristic of a restaurant. But the Heritage House also does things I’ve seen no restaurant do.
For instance, the Heritage House has no wait staff. None. What they have in place of a waitstaff is the local troop of Boy Scouts, who volunteer when the Heritage House opens for Friday dinner. The kids bring up food, clean plates and tables, man the drink station (one soda dispenser) and when not faced with an immediate task they mill around, talking amongst themselves and acting like they’re teenagers who came to volunteer because their organization signed up for it. Lest anyone think I’m being mean to them, I’d like to point out that teenagers who actively try to help and seek out new tasks when their organization has volunteered is almost a statistical impossibility. The teenagers that are rushing around and looking for new tasks to do either suggested the volunteer work, or their parents are chaperones. Also, in fairness, the Boy Scouts do a decent job of making sure things are running smoothly.
Another thing that makes me refuse to believe I’m in a restaurant is the amateur feel. Not amateur as in “they don’t know what they’re doing,” amateur as in “unpolished.” The Heritage House is here to serve you food. That’s it. The chairs and the tables are of the fold-up variety, as though the place is just a restaurant some of the time—the rest of the time it will be hosting some grand event. I’ve gone there a few times, and each time I buy a meal with a check (no credit cards accepted) at a setup that reminds me of the ticket tables for high school basketball games. I mentioned low dining previously, and this is low dining at its finest. One of the great aspects of this is that you have to sit with other people. There are no tables for one or two. You will be joining a group, and you can only not talk with someone if you are really willing to work at it—and really, what fun is that? I’ve eaten with a couple Catholic priests (there for the fish), an old couple who knew practically everyone, and one of the few people I know in this town who was eating with his family.
The final thing that makes me refuse to believe I’m eating in a restaurant is that I am eating in a church. There is no polite way to say this—once a building has been a church, it leaves that imprint on every future occupant. I’ve been to an advertising agency in Waterloo, IA that is a converted church, and it still has that reverent feel. Even when an office has two old first class airplane seats in it the place feels like a church. Perhaps the only place I’ve been that hasn’t felt like a church after being repurposed is the Temple Club in Lansing, Michigan. Even there, I saw the emptiness of the sanctuary converted into a dance floor and thought, “Someone’s going to hell.” There were cute girls dancing, though, so I eventually reached the compromise that I might indeed be condemned to Hell, but I would at least enjoy the trip.
I get that same sense in the Heritage House. Not that I’m going to Hell, but that eating and paying for it is not something you should be doing in a church. As I’m eating and staring at the stained glass windows along the walls I keep thinking that I’m butting into a weekly potluck, and since I didn’t bring a dish I have to pay for a plate. No matter how often I eat there I keep thinking I should bring a casserole.
The only problem with the Heritage House is that I don’t know how much longer it will be open. I’ve heard the woman who opened it is extremely sick. If she doesn’t make it the future of the Heritage House is in doubt, which is really too bad. It would be nice to see something she founded go on, especially something that does such a great job of bringing people together.
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