Breakfast
Saturday, 10 a.m. I am wakened to the sound and feeling of a growling stomach. Good morning, San Francisco!
I laid there staring at my iPhone for a minute trying to identify the device like a cave man scratching himself. As the blood continued to power up the brain, I opened up Yelp to search for the spot. There are several good breakfast places close to me and none had poor reviews. A few people complained about long lines. That’s a good sign I think.
I walk over to Dottie’s and the line is about 15 people deep. It’s clear the dining area doesn’t take priority in size. This is the style of many places in San Fran, very small rooms used for everything you could think of in the past 100 years. The people in the line are talking about parties from last night and parties being lined up. One guy is saying the same person’s name over and over, louder each time. Occasionally a homeless person walks by, none have asked me anything…yet. However, one lady across the street warned us of Jesus coming on Sunday and we were sinners for gouging ourselves at breakfast. It will be hard to eat a full meal with Jesus watching me. I might need to get him a cup of coffee and ask him what his preference is. I’m guessing he’s a big fish fan. Regardless, if the world does come to an end on Sunday, at least I’ll have a good breakfast.
10:50 a.m. I am third in line when a bus boy blesses me with a single spot open at the bar. Coffee came right out and the cream they have is velvety. I order the True Blue, which has a basic grand slam-esque list of items. The grill is right behind the bar, and a mountain of home fries landscapes the French toast valley and the pancake rising hills. I’m clearly ready to dive right over, but humbly I watch them cook my order meticulously. The staff is careful to put orders in the same order customers sit down. Ten minutes later breakfast is served and with the first bite I was hooked. Well worth the wait. Best part, total bill for this once-daily meal: $15.