Don’t Touch Our Panera
We all have that one spot. A place that isn’t just a place. It’s a pause button, a soft landing, a reset. For Rob W., that spot is the Panera on Route 18 at the Brunswick Square Mall. And if there’s one thing he could wish for East Brunswick, it wouldn’t be fancy development or another chain store—it would be that this Panera never moves. Not one inch.
Because this isn’t just a Panera.
It’s a morning ritual. Rob W. stops there before heading to his office in Freehold. Not for the coffee….well, maybe a little for the coffee….but more to mentally regroup. To ease into the day. It’s like a warm-up lap before the race. He’ll often see the same four older women from Old Bridge sitting near the windows. The smiles are subtle, but meaningful. A quick laugh. A shared joke. Or sometimes, just a knowing nod. No pressure, no awkward small talk. Just the comfort of familiarity.
It’s the kind of place where you walk in hoping some of the regulars are already there. And if they’re not, there’s a moment of disappointment, not because the coffee’s any worse, but because you wonder if they’re okay. It’s that kind of place.
Sadly, sometimes someone stops showing up. And Rob W. finds himself wondering—did they pass away? Did they find another spot? Or are they going through something bigger than themselves right now? Sometimes you bump into them at Target six months or a year later, and it’s a pleasant surprise. Other times, you never see them again. You only ever knew their first name, so you can’t even look them up. And that kind of quiet disappearance sticks with you. It makes Rob W. sad.
It’s also where you reconnect with people you mostly just text with. You know the ones. Friends where everything’s always “good” over text, but in person, something deeper happens. You can read their tone. See how they’re really doing. You get into each other’s souls a little bit—no emoji needed.
And then there’s the staff behind the counter. People who know Rob W. Not just by name, but by rhythm. They greet him with a smile, and on the rare occasion when he switches it up and orders something other than his usual, someone actually notices.
After work, before heading home, Rob W. stops back in. Same table if it’s open. He switches over to 2/3 seltzer and 1/3 lemonade, a great combination and fewer calories than straight lemonade. All, thanks to the magical Sip Club—fifteen bucks or so a month and you’re in the unlimited soda and coffee game. One refill every two hours. No judgment.
This Panera is the unsung heartbeat of the town. It’s where regulars knit, where small groups play board games. Where teenagers camp out with laptops, it’s one of the few places where people still slow down.
It’s home.
So no, this isn’t just about soup or sandwiches. It’s about a space that gives East Brunswick soul. A place where Rob W.—and probably more people than we realize—go just to be. And if you don’t understand, perhaps you’ve never been.
But you should.
