Apparently I belong to a quiet minority who doesn’t fawn over Chicky’s Fine Diner. It’s supposed to represent the new cool of a revitalized Westbrook. To me the dining room was nothing more than a noisy cavern.

Chicky’s tries to effect such a delicate balance with allusions of cool. It’s not that easy to recreate the modern trendy diner. Rather, it’s the acquired art of a savvy restaurateur who instills such authenticity.

Though such places are not meant to resemble the likes of Moody’s, the A-1 or the Maine Diner but strive instead to be nostalgic renditions, facsimiles to the beat of rock music.

There are plenty of them in larger cities. New York, Boston and L.A. are awash with these vast dining halls that ride the waves of studied self-consciousness, with smirking waiters and leggy hostesses who don’t need to say much to handle a brash clientele.

To a degree our own home-grown haunts like Norm’s or Dogfish accomplish cool moves with delicious food and modish interiors. Even the Village Café has a certain inner beauty.

I had high expectations the first time I went to Chicky’s. With so many reviews effulgent with praise, how could I think otherwise? That’s the danger in universal prattle. By the time you see for yourself, the reality is often far from the hype. Had I just stumbled unknowingly into Chicky’s for a hamburger and fried onion rings I might have left satisfied.

One review I read said it was like stepping into a Hopper painting. Would you actually want to? Hopper’s depictions often show stark, disturbing truths of city life, grim and lonely, as in his 1942 painting, Nighthawks.

Other reviews laud its authentic Art Deco interior. I looked and looked and all I could find was a cute “Chicky’s” sign over the front door that had an appealing vintage look.

The interiors are actually bright and fairly cheerful. The room, however, is vaguely 1950s, with nary a nod to the thirties. Perhaps Chicky’s is already passé, and I have encountered its charms too late.

As a culinary manifesto, I offer my condolences. I’ve been there several times, and will go back again, if only to satisfy a morbid curiosity that I could be wrong. On several occasions the service was so slapdash I was ready to fly the coop. How could I honestly enjoy the food when everything else was so annoying? The wait staff is too short-handed to handle a crowd. One time, when our waitress actually took up floor duty, she was too busy talking to her friends to pay us or anyone else much heed.

You know it’s a sign of bad service or a slow kitchen when you walk into a restaurant and no one is eating.

We had ordered two beers to drink while studying the menu. They remained at the bar, in a sweaty pool, for at least 15 minutes until—to the horror of my dining consort-- I actually walked over and took them myself. After that it wasn’t until a half-hour passed that we were able to nibble on our tossed salads. It was a good mix of lettuces, though I couldn’t taste the dressing until I licked my lips.

The menu reads much better than it tastes. I’m crazy for places like this when they’re good, being a pushover for diner food, roadside grub and stick-to-the ribs avoirdupois.

Chicken fried steak, colossal onion rings, the ubiquitous hanger steak, meat loaf and other typical diner offerings are some of the choices. I tried the meatloaf special one night and chose for my two sides that come with entrees hush puppies and glazed carrots. I love meat loaf, especially my own. What arrived was a workmanlike wedge with squiggles of homemade horseradish ketchup. The meat, though, was such a dark brown, I wondered what made it so. The hush puppies, looking like Tater Tots, were as hard as hockey pucks. The only glisten to the glazed carrots was the cooking water.

Another time I tried the lasagna. It was tasty enough, though I would have preferred Casa Novello’s rendition down the street.

The chicken fried stead was too heavily coated for my tastes. I’ve had a much better version at Stone’s, in North Yarmouth.

The popcorn that is brought to the table when you arrive is a cute idea. Though I assume the restaurant does not serve bread with meals. At least I never saw any.

I’ve decided that I will go to Chicky’s for lunch today. I’ve not been there for a daytime meal. Maybe in the light of day, I’ll come away with brighter impressions. I’ll let you know.

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