Nicks on Broadway has been a foodie-favorite on Broadway for nearly a decade, always earning raves from the local press and always packed with a hip-looking crowd, a loyal cadre who followed chef/owner Derek Wagner to his present location (in 2006), which is several blocks closer to Olneyville than his original spot on Broadway was.This is a tribe that loves to tell you that Nick is not Derek's name — it was the name on the real workingman's diner that used to be at the restaurant's first location. And they leap to correct you when you spell Nick's with an apostrophe, which it doesn't have, apparently just to be alternative.
Open for breakfast daily except Mondays and Tuesdays (from 7 a.m., except 8 on Sundays), Nicks has been crowded since it opened and is even more crowded now that it's so much larger. This was the case even during the several-month period last year after the restaurant had moved but didn't yet have its sign up. If you dine out a lot around Providence, you're bound to see people you know at Nicks, maybe even some that you saw dining out the night before.
But more and more, I'm hearing from people that they don't go to Nicks anymore, because it's just too crowded, too noisy, and too expensive. A cup of coffee for $3? Breakfast for two (not brunch, mind you, this is basically eggs, bacon, toast and homefries) for close to $30 with tip?
Last time Retired Guy and I went to Nicks, we were seated elbow-to-elbow with two people who were discussing the intimate details of a loved one's cancer treatment. Our tables were touching, so there was no way that the two of us could avoid feeling like intruders in what should have been a personal conversation.
Every table and counter stool is always occupied at Nicks. On a previous visit, we had been seated at a high table that was squished between the front glass window and the line of people waiting for a table, their elbows continually brushing us.
One of the things I liked about the old Nicks was the easy friendliness of Wagner and the other chefs as they worked the grill just behind the counter. He'd make you an omelet, or mix you up a yogurt parfait, based on ingredients he knew you liked. Back then, you really felt as if you were part of the neighborhood crowd. Now, the grill is so far removed from the counter and the place is so much larger that you never get a chance even to say hello to anyone. I don't recognize the waitstaff and I don't know who's cooking. To paraphrase the famous Yogi Berra line: "Nobody goes there anymore: It's too crowded."
