As soon as the sun begins to set on a Saturday night, downtown Columbia comes to life. Students take over Ninth Street, and, especially after school sporting events, local bars are vibrating.

As I spent that Friday night alone in my dorm room watching No. 6 ranked Tennessee slowly chip away at Missouri men’s basketball’s lead early in the second half, I became exasperated with witnessing what I thought was another disappointing Missouri sports game and headed out to Café Poland. The local Polish restaurant is tucked away on Locust Street, around the corner and out of earshot from other downtown bars and restaurants.

Entering the restaurant, my first thought was its compactness, with more scattered tables and chairs than floor space. Grabbing a menu and settling in, I asked an older woman who looked like the owner — and the defining personality of the restaurant — what was good, telling her I had never been there before.

“Everything is good,” she said, proceeding to read off the entire menu from top to bottom.

Looking over my options, I noticed the older woman constantly running back and forth. Wiping down a table, running back to the kitchen. Emerging a few minutes later with another customer’s food, cleaning another table. Greeting a group of students, who opted to take their orders to go because of the lack of table space. Rushing back to the kitchen, emerging with more food, then rushing to the corner table to take my order: beef pierogies and two raspberry-filled crepes.

Restaurantgoers seemed to recognize the burden that was on this woman, whose name I later found to be Iwona. They were doing for her what she couldn’t. As I ordered my food, another older couple walked in, and others rearranged themselves to ensure the pair had a table for two. Another student grabbed a job application on her way out after hearing that the owner’s son, who ordinarily helps out with day-to-day operations, was away at medical school.

In the middle of it all, I expected my food to taste thrown together, like food prepared by a restaurant worker just trying to get through a busy shift. But the pierogies tasted like they were prepared with the care of a grandparent, a side of sour cream adding a touch of creaminess to a juicy, savory meal. The crepes came in a box, and the owner assured me I wouldn’t be able to finish them in one sitting — she was right.

Though the experience required extra money from my pocket, it was one that I could make last. I took the crepes back to my dorm and enjoyed them as a gourmet midnight snack. It was one I could use as a coping mechanism, getting away from the stress of watching a highly-anticipated basketball game to enjoy the food and community around me.

As I headed back to my room, crepes in hand, I begrudgingly checked the score to see a 1-point Missouri victory and starting guard DeAndre Gholston’s halfcourt heave all over my Instagram feed.

In short, Café Poland was the perfect place for me to go to remove the stress of a game I couldn’t bear to watch. The community knit together by locals and the intimidating, yet comforting, presence of its owner and her food brings a college town restaurant a home-cooked vibe.

Edited by Savvy Sleevar, ssleevar@themaneater.com
Copy edited by Sterling Sewell and Lauren Courtney