I knew something bad was going to happen the last time I ate at the Wedgwood Broiler because my salad arrived with only three Cheez-It crackers on top. Usually, it comes with four. Five is a good day, and if there were six, I’d buy a lottery ticket. The quantity of chopped salami slices varies less.

The house salad comes as an option with all the burgers, sandwiches, and steaks, and the Wedgwood Broiler is the only place I ever turn down fries in favor of a salad (though sometimes I just ask for both). I usually order mine with ranch dressing, maybe honey-mustard for a special occasion. The unfancy dish fits in nicely with the 1960s suburban living room vibes of the decor. The manager does, too, when he makes duck noises to entertain my children like a helpful uncle.

Not long after that meal, I learned that I had only two years left to dig into my beloved pile of chopped iceberg lettuce, with its duo of absurdly ordinary toppings. The renderings for the development slated to be built where the Wedgwood Broiler now sits came out in March, starting the countdown clock on the 55-year-old restaurant’s closure.

While I’m hopeful the Wedgwood Broiler will find a new home, I can’t take any risks after a three-cracker salad. I’ll be back in, trying for a lucky seven, until the bulldozers toss me to the curb.