I’m visiting North Jersey’s most essential restaurants. First stop: Rutt’s Hut.

My expectation upon visiting Rutt’s Hut in Clifton for the first time is that I’d go and have a pretty good hot dog — maybe the best. But midway through the meal I’m wondering if time is a flat circle and if we’re living in a simulation.

I wasn’t expecting that from a chili dog, but it is the kind of uncommon experience I was hoping to have at Rutt’s Hut.

See, I’m on a journey to visit the 25 most essential restaurants in North Jersey in 2025. Though I grew up here, I’ve been away for a decade and realized I haven’t been to many of the cornerstone restaurants, including Rutt’s Hut, that make our area’s food unique. As a food writer tasked with knowing what these establishments are all about, I figured I probably ought to visit them.

We asked you to submit your top North Jersey spots. Several readers (and plenty of friends outside this) suggested Rutt’s Hut because it’s iconic — almost 100 years old with acclaimed food and a reputation as an irreplaceable diner and watering hole.

So, yes, I’m expecting great food at these spots, but I’m also keeping my feelers up for the intangible qualities that elevate a great restaurant to essential. At Rutt’s Hut, it’s a feeling akin to deja vu.

What are you talking about?

Let me explain. Ever heard the Talking Heads’ song, “Once in a Lifetime”? You know, “This is not my beautiful house… this is not my beautiful wife.” I play it whenever our family’s having one of those days when everyone’s crabby and nothing goes right; the joke being the comfortable monotony of everyday life has become cloying and I’m now disassociating with the tenets of it before I go insane.

Big laughs, every time.

I can’t help but channel David Byrne in the shotgun shack dining room of Rutt’s Hut. Before me is a hamburger and a hot dog (they call it a ripper) with chili. They’re so perfect looking, their buns so symmetrical and unsullied, their toppings so neatly apportioned, they look fake. They look like they came out of a Fisher-Price kitchen, and I’m tempted to nibble at the air around the edges and hand it back to the server and condescendingly say, “Mmm, so good, now I’ll have the roast duck with a maraschino cherry on top.”

Except that’s exactly what I order next, and what I get back is a half a duck with a thick orange glaze in which I can see myself — the maraschino cherry over my nose, because this is a joke, right? The bartender who, upon entry, wordlessly signals to have a seat wherever I’d like, but who’s got endless stories and smiles when a regular walks in… he’s a character actor, no? The painted, weathered menu board above the long bar with yesteryear specials written out in calligraphy — clam strips, “Bar-BQ-Pork,” French-fried onions… a stage-hand built that, yes?

This looks real. It looks familiar. It’s not though, right?

But the thrum rises at this restaurant overlooking Routes 3 and 21 (Where does that highway go to? Newark), as people down pints at the bar at 11 a.m. on a weekday. Plates of food pretty as a picture in a mid-century cooking magazine fill my table. I half expect some cheesy theme song like the one from “Cheers” to play, but instead I hear an oscillating synthesizer of laughs from around the dining room, a bass line of plates and glasses hitting tables and I sing karaoke to myself, “Well, how did I get here?”

But if this were really a fiction, the waitress would notice my befuddlement in this timeless bar and grill and say, coolly, “Same as it ever was.” Instead, she says, “Rice pudding?” And I say “Yep.”

Rutt’s Hut: Rippers since 1928

Rutt’s Hut has a reputation well outside North Jersey, appearing on PBS and Food Network programs, and it’s listed in the book “1,000 Places to See in the USA and Canada Before You Die.” Earlier this year, the iconic spot closed for a day as crews filmed a scene from the upcoming Sydney Sweeney movie “The Housemaid.”

In short, people know it. So I should too.

Now, the ripper — a hot dog — is its signature product and was voted the best hot dog in the country in 2018. It’s a Thumann’s pork-and-beef weiner that’s deep-fried in beef fat until it rips apart, thus the name. You can get it covered in chili, cheese or both, or order it plain and smother it with Rutt’s Hut’s homemade relish or mustard.

But the menu also includes burgers, fried fish and barbecue platters, roasts (like chicken with apple sauce and roast beef au jus), sandwiches and more. Some of the items feel like a throwback (liver and onions or the turkey blue plate special), while others feel like a surprise (the Long Island half-duck or beef Nagasaki with filet mignon and shrimp over rice).

Part of the appeal of Rutt’s Hut is that it hasn’t changed much since it opened in 1928. Sure, some furniture and equipment have been updated and it looks like brick buildings have been tacked on like Legos over the years, but the heart of the restaurant — no frills, idyllic food at affordable prices, served quickly — hasn’t budged.

An entire industry of chain restaurants has been built on the appeal of places like Rutt’s Hut, but T.G.I. Friday’s, Applebee’s, Ruby Tuesday’s and the like are simply poseurs. Of course we all know this intuitively, but you actually feel (and taste) the difference at Rutt’s Hut. That is to say, it hasn’t manufactured a vibe… it just is one.

The Rutt’s Hut experience

Clearly, Rutt’s Hut’s authenticity matters to me and, I assume, many of you. I realize it’s an original on the first bite.

The Ripper

Now look, it’s a chili dog, so I’m not going to abuse your time by waxing poetic (any more than I already have) about carnival food, but damn if this ripper isn’t excellent. The thick casing snaps on on the bite, and the log of meat inside, detached from its crust, is so ridiculously moist. The chili is robust, with an unexpected and delightful nudge of heat on the back of the tongue.

Because so many bad hot dogs exist in the world, perhaps it’s best to judge this one by what it’s not: flavorless, oversalted and flaccid. I’m not above a cheap hot dog when hungry, but a well-executed one like Rutts’ Hut’s reminds you how cynical restaurant culture can be: if they’re not giving you crap and expecting you to like it because you don’t know any better, they’re trying to convince you that their culinary creations are special and genius and that you should like it because, still, you don’t know any better.

Sometimes — and maybe all the time — an honest chili dog is all you need.

The Burger

I’d say the same analysis applies for Rutt’s Hut’s burger: a smashed and crispy beef patty that oozes fat into a soft bun, with crisp lettuce and tomato for a satisfying snap. I housed it in three and a half bites.

Poutine

Rutt’s Hut serves a version of poutine — fries, cheese and gravy — with a thin brown gravy poured over crispy, medium-thick potato wedges and topped with a sheet of mozzarella. It’s like what you would make if those were the only three ingredients you had at 2 a.m. and you were starving: simple but satisfying.

Onion Rings

Onion rings are fan favorites here as well, and I appreciated the big hoops of cut onions, fried in thick batter and spiced perfectly.

Roast Duck with Orange Sauce

Things get interesting with the roast duck. A half-duck is heavily glazed and served atop a square cake of stuffing and an orange sweet and sour sauce. The skin and fat come off in glistening, crispy shards; each bite is sticky, sweet and savory. The meat inside is best on the thighs and leg, where it’s most tender, but piling a forkful of meat with a bit of the herbaceous stuffing (which has been soaking up all the juices of duck and sauce) and a dollop of the tangy sauce is a delightful bite.

Rice Pudding

The rice pudding, too, is popular, and though it’s never been my first thought for dessert, I couldn’t resist this humble, creamy and sweet bowl of goodness. A sprinkling of cinnamon goes a long way in enlivening this dish, and the flavor — heavy on the vanilla — was so addicting that I eventually had enough bites to come around on the slightly chewy texture of the bloated, creamy rice.

Final verdict

Polishing all that off, belly full, my mind circles back to the roast duck. Why, when Rutt’s Hut is famous for its fast food, is the duck on the menu? And why is it so beautifully composed?

The answer, I determine, is also the reason for Rutt’s Hut’s appeal. This plate of duck, plucked from the pages of a 1940s cookbook, this throwback dining room, this exceptional execution of comfort food, this feeling of comfort amongst the patrons, this feeling that I’ve seen this food before and eaten here even though I haven’t… that’s the point. Having just visited for the first time, I’ve resolved that Rutt’s Hut today is likely the same as it ever was.

Go: Rutt’s Hut. 417 River Road, Clifton; 973-779-8615; ruttshut.com.

Matt Cortina is a food reporter for NorthJersey.com/The Record. If you have recommendations for other essential North Jersey restaurants for him to visit, go here or email me at mcortina@gannett.com. 

This article originally appeared on NorthJersey.com: Visiting Rutt’s Hut on tour of NJ essential restaurants