Chicken fried, Dixie fried and country fried are all variations of the same battered, salt-laden cooking process popularized south of the Mason-Dixon line. Because I spent a period of years existing on honky-tonk road food, and because my husband and I still travel that stretch of Americana between here and Nashville, I have developed an appreciation for this style of hearty, low-end cuisine.

So given the tight claim that Southern culture holds on country-fried steak and sausage gravy, I was shocked to taste some of the finest at Phat Boys Diner in Cornish.

Maine is famous for miles of winding coastline, but less celebrated are our miles of winding interior roads. One of these interior roads, just up from where the Ossippee and Saco rivers meet and about a public radio program-length outside Portland, leads to the tiny town of Cornish.

And Cornish is where the country-fried magic happened.

Rich in road-trip material, the drive spans an apple orchard, pristine river views, horses in a pasture and all manner of antique shopping. Turn right, and there’s Friendly River Music – the local musician’s insider source for comprehensive instrument supplies and vintage memorabilia. Turn left, and there’s a directional sign to Pumpkinville. (Were you aware of Pumpkinville? I was not.)

Just before the town proper (if you see the antique shop, you’ve gone too far) sits a little strip mall-esque locale called Phat Boys Diner. My first impression? The urban slang spelling put me off. Phat? In rural Maine? It felt incongruous, and I entered the establishment with skepticism.

That noted, there was no wait for breakfast on a Sunday morning, and a sunny drive seemed like a more pleasant use of time than jockeying for a position in line at any of the other popular Portland-area breakfast joints.

The dining room at Phat Boys is large and bright. Sun streams from the windows, and – hangover nursers beware – the fluorescent lights only intensify the brightness. Wooden kitchen tables and chairs are set up in rows, and the system is refreshingly direct.

Here for breakfast? Sit anywhere you like. The waitresses, each of them possessing a blue-collar sensibility in jeans and sneakers, were ready with a friendly and immediate “Can I get you a cup of coffee?”

The coffee was good – hot and strong, and served in seasonal patterned mugs straight from the dollar store or grandma’s cupboard. My husband noted that it felt like going home to northern Maine, in a good way.

(In fact, the first item I noticed on the menu was the S.O.S. ($7.49), a clever little acronym from our shared Aroostook roots that involves creamed chipped beef on toast. Go ahead and giggle. I did. It has been years since I witnessed that vintage terminology.)

Because diner food can be hard to distinguish, I appreciated the “Phat Boy Favorites” designated on the menu with little fork icons. From the fork suggestions, we chose the Phat Boy Skillet, Meat-Stuffed French Toast and the Jumbo Cinnamon Roll. Our rogue, off-fork choice was the Country Fried Steak and Eggs, along with a side of Corned Beef Hash.

My morning brain gets muddled when I read a breakfast menu, and I struggle between sweet and savory. French toast or omelet? Waffles with syrup, or eggs and bacon?

With the Meat-Stuffed French Toast, Phat Boys eliminates any need to choose, because it offers the best of all worlds. Two thick pieces of Texas-style toast dipped in egg and cooked with a stuffing of melted cheese, sausage nuggets, ham bits and slivers of bacon. Pour true maple syrup on top and enjoy a salty, sweet, chewy, smooth treat!

The Phat Boy Skillet ($7.29), another fork designee, included chopped onions and green pepper pieces stirred into a cheesy egg scramble. The onions and peppers were cooked with a hint of snap, and the eggs were delivered hard, just as ordered. With a side of raisin toast and hash browns – grated in the kitchen and fried gold and crispy – the meal was as close to perfect as a breakfast scramble can get.

Although the Corned Beef Hash ($2.89) was billed as homemade, I suspect the kitchen played fast and loose with that definition. The meat possessed a distinct canned taste and pasty texture, but it was indeed cooked with chunks of fresh potato. Technically, it qualified, but if you are looking for impressive pieces of brisket, the Phat Boys corned beef incarnation is not that.

The winner of the menu, though, and the reason I will return to Phat Boys as often as my arteries can withstand, is the Country Fried Steak and Eggs ($7.59). In rural Maine at a diner named with urban jargon, under fluorescent lights, in the blinding bright Sunday morning, I was treated to a serving of country-fried steak with sausage cream gravy that rivals anything from below the Mason-Dixon line.

Eggs were offered any style, and the kitchen did not blink when I requested poached. The eggs were poached with precision, and the meal was a carb and salt lover’s fantasy. Pounded steak, breaded and fried, with a thick layer of homemade sausage cream gravy. Travis and I fought over the last bite.

Because we ate the entire plate of country-fried steak, we saved the Jumbo Cinnamon Roll ($2.49) for the ride home. Still warm, the cinnamon roll was a tasty, frosted pastry big enough for the both of us to enjoy.

In addition to its identity as a breakfast location at the end of one of the prettiest stretches of interior Maine, Phat Boys also advertises dinner in the form of epic-sounding buffet styles. Wednesday is pasta night, Thursday fin and fowl, and Friday night features prime rib – each billed as all you can eat.

Given Phat Boys excellent treatment of Southern standards, I will definitely be back for supper one day. 

Shonna Milliken Humphrey is a Maine freelance writer and author of the novel “Show Me Good Land.”