Nostalgia and cherry pie: Finding solace from anxiety at Twin Peaks' Double R diner

Anxiety can be described in many ways, but for me, it has always felt most like a desperate yearning to go home. 

As a teenager, I longed to be one of those people that’s “mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time,” like Jack Kerouac describes in his iconic novel "On The Road". But instead of cruising through life’s endless possibilities, I found myself gripped by an unnamed dread, scanning the horizon not for adventure, but for refuge. 

This place I was seeking didn’t really exist, but I found a version of it in the Double R diner, a cosy hub of bottomless black coffee and log-carrying customers that’s at the heart of the surreal show Twin Peaks. 

The worlds of David Lynch are notoriously unsettling, filled with trauma, violence, and supernatural bizarreness. Within such a landscape, the Double R becomes an anchor to normality. Softly lit and traditionally styled, it’s where the town’s locals gather for a slice of cherry pie and respite from the darkness outside. 

"This diner, and its extraordinarily good coffee and pie, has become, I admit, something of an obsession for me,” says Dale Cooper (Kyle MacLachlan), an FBI agent assigned to investigate the show’s central mystery: the murder of a teenage girl named Laura Palmer. 

American diners have always been an obsession of mine, too. Their laminate table tops, red bar stools and neon signs made them feel like portals to an idealised past that's on pause - liminal in both time and place.

Often scattered along desolate stretches of road or open 24 hours, they also seemed to represent a safety net: a reassuring warm glow in a restless world. 

In contrast, the grey countertops and stale chip-fat smell of cafes in England, where I grew up, felt sad and hollow - like eating ice cream alone in the rain. The closest thing I could find was a nearby supermarket that stayed open overnight; a similar ambience of lost souls looking for company, distraction, and late-night snacks.

When terrified of reality, nostalgia and dream-like spaces become temporary destinations for escape. While many of the scenes at the Double R are Twin Peaks’ least dramatic, it’s still what most fans think of first; its ambience encapsulating the show's nostalgic lure.

Owned by sweet-hearted Norma Jennings (Peggy Lipton), with waitress Shelly (Mädchen Amick) serving customers, it grounds the show’s more chaotic elements with a soap opera-like consistency. Diners, much like British pubs, have often been used in film and TV as ritualistic settings where storylines slow, melodrama murmurs, and characters re-orientate themselves. 

From the late night conversations at the River Diner in After Hours, to Enid’s people watching at the Quality Cafe in Ghost World, they’re utilised as societal microcosms that attract misfits and lost souls. While the horrors outside persist, some glistening chrome and faded Americana offers a strange sense of belonging.

In real life, diners were also where David Lynch found his early inspiration. In the 1970s and '80s, the director famously visited Bob's Big Boy every day, arriving at 2:30pm and ordering a chocolate milkshake and coffee before jotting ideas on napkins. Just like in Twin Peaks, it became his place for routine and reflection, which is perhaps why the Double R feels like more than just a set: a character in its own right, textured with the director's memories.

From Audrey’s slow dancing, to Ed Hurley’s heartbreaking confessions to his high school love Norma, the characters feel safe here to share their deepest secrets and truest selves. They might not find any easy resolutions, and sometimes more sinister elements still creep in, but the space remains a stop gap for stirring emotions; discomfort dissipating.

While I never managed to find a Double R diner of my own, its fictional existence became just as much of a reprieve. Having first watched the show while at university, I was in a constant state of homesickness and brain-gnawing panic. Adulthood was ahead, yet it felt confusing and off-kilter, like sitting in the Black Lodge where sentences are familiar - but distorted, backwards.

On nights where essay deadlines loomed and housemates were drunkenly screaming outside, I’d crawl into bed, eat peanut butter with a spoon, and disappear into Angelo Badalamenti’s opening score. Despite all its grief-stricken screaming and interdimensional nightmares, the show’s nostalgic aesthetic was always an instant comfort. 

The Double R in particular represented what I was longing for: routine, community, and a slice of warm pie. More than that, it gave shape to emotions I couldn’t clearly define. When running from anxiety, it’s never a home we’re truly looking for - but the feelings attached to it.

An ice cream sundae, a cool vinyl seat, a smile from a stranger. Through the Double R's gentle monotonies, there's a quiet reminder at the heart of Twin Peaks: to find calm in the ordinary.

"Every day, once a day, give yourself a present. Don't plan it. Don't wait for it. Just let it happen," Cooper says, referencing his daily "damn fine" coffee. It's probably about time I joined him again.

'A Gathering of the Angels', the two-day festival celebrating the life and career of David Lynch, takes place at the Genesis Cinema in London, UK, on 27-28 September 2025.