According to the speaker, the dry-cleaning store used to be a ______.

I found myself facing a dry-cleaning store which has once been one of the best restaurants in New York. On Sundays the old man would take my mother and me for dinner. There had been a balcony where a baker in a tall white hat baked fresh rolls and whenever a customer entered, the baker would look down and put in a fresh batch. I could smell the rolls through the odor of cleaning fluid on Lenox Avenue. I could see the manager who always sat down will4 us while we ate. He had some disease, I suppose, because the right side of his face was swollen out like a balloon, but he always wore a hard wing collar and a white tie, and never seemed sick. A Negro with a moustache was looking through the store window at me. For a moment I had the urge to go and tell him what I remembered, to describe this avenue when no garbage cans were on the street, when the Daimlers and Minervas and Fords had cruised by, and the cop on the corner threw back the ball when it got through the outfield on 114th street. I did not go into the store, nor even toward our house. Any claim I had to anything had lapsed. I went downtown instead and sat in my room, trying to read.