An Ode to Restaurants Past

One of my favorite parts of traveling is trying new foods and discovering unique places. Sometimes, the restaurant becomes the destination. Have I taken long detours just to dine somewhere unforgettable? Absolutely. And honestly, I think you should, too.

Why? Because even the most iconic places don’t last forever. Natural disasters, economic struggles, changing times—or simply a well-earned retirement—can all close the doors of a beloved eatery for good.

Here are two incredible restaurants I went out of my way to visit—each one now gone. I’m grateful I made the effort when I could. Let this be your reminder to savor every bite, every place, and every experience while it’s still there to enjoy.

The Iron Kettle

Special events like anniversaries and first dates often took my family to Grand Rivers, Kentucky. The small riverside town is home to a complex of restaurants and shops dating back to 1890. One of those was the Iron Kettle, which opened during the 1960s.

The restaurant’s interior could only be described as Grandma’s house, but bigger. Checked tablecloths decked the tables. Food was served buffet style, but not in standard warmers. Instead, rows of antique wood stoves were stoked daily, dishes of home-grown favorites like green beans and sweet potato pie placed on top.

The Iron Kettle was always worth the drive, and everyone I ever took there left stuffed. We weren’t the only ones enamored by this treasure. The restaurant made about a million dollars in sales each year.

In April 2008, employees rushed from the building as smoke enveloped it. The following year, a local NPR station reported that the restaurant’s owners planned to rebuild nearby.

Nearly two decades later, it still hasn’t happened. The last vestiges of this local staple are the “Iron Kettle Hours” Small Plate Dining Menu occasionally offered at its sister restaurant, Patti’s 1880s Settlement.

Sorry We’re Closed! Photo: Shutterstock

Bongos Cuban Cafe

My first grown-up trip to Disney World felt like it was sprinkled in pixie dust. On our first night in Orlando, we explored Disney Springs, an immersive, unticketed shopping district. We boarded a riverboat bound for the Port Orleans Resort, intent on tasting Mickey Mouse-shaped beignets.

Over the hum of the boat’s paddle slapping the water, my companion said, “We’re going to eat there tomorrow.” He pointed across the water at a giant illuminated pineapple nestled between more traditional buildings.

The next day, we approached a rather nondescript grey concrete rectangle; the pineapple was only visible from the water. Stepping inside, it was as if a tropical breeze had whisked away the ordinary, leaving the archetype of a cantina in its place. A winding staircase towered through two stories of seating, set against a backdrop of palms. A mariachi-style band played in one corner, and three sets of flamenco dancers twirled in bold blacks and reds on the stairs.

Even in such an entrancing atmosphere, the food held its own. I fell in love with tostones—crispy disks of twice-fried plantains—and mojo sauce, a tangy blend of garlic, citrus, spices, and olive oil.

Despite its popularity, celebrity ownership (Gloria and Emilio Estefan), and architectural prowess (designed by the award-winning Bernardo Fort-Bresica), Bongos Cuban Cafe closed in 2019 to be replaced by Summerhouse on the Lake. The “breezy beach vibes” of the new establishment may be Instagram-worthy but lack the vivacity of Cuban culture.

In Conclusion, Eat The Bison Burger

There’s a snippet of conversation that lives rent-free in my head. Speaking of recent travels with his wife, a friend said, “I told her, ‘Get the bison burger! Don’t worry about the price. When are we ever going to be here again, and when are you going to have another chance to eat this burger?’”

That statement put words to something I had instinctively understood. The wonderful places we travel to are transitory and ephemeral. No matter how long they’ve been there, no matter how timeless they seem, they won’t always be the same. They’ll change. They’ll decay. And eventually, they’ll be remodeled and restaffed. New owners won’t do things the same way. Some will close. Others will fade away, becoming like husks of their former selves.

As travelers, we have a responsibility to embrace the opportunities when they’re available, when you’re there, in the moment—because what you travel for today might not be there tomorrow.

Click Here for Discounted Accommodations in Orlando, Florida