Making A Strong Case For A Good Greasy Spoon Breakfast

Brunch might get all the buzz – yes, please pass the bottomless mimosas – but here’s a heartfelt appreciation for the most important meal of the day, the workhorse that gets you up and out the door.

When did brunch start trending?

The notion of delaying that eye-opener and combining it with elements from lunch first popped up in Great Britain in the 1930s when it was dubbed morning tea or considered a prelude to the hunt.

Since then it’s grown into a wildly popular weekend ritual. We can thanks late-rising hordes craving for a little hair of the dog alongside the over-the-top, Insta-worthy gravy-drenched fried chicken and waffles.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m so there for that. But what about the no-frills No. 1 with a side of extra crispy bacon and golden hash browns, eggs sunny side up and dry toast on the side?

That kind of no-frills order was recently set before me at the Spruce Goose Cafe in Port Townsend, Wash., and I was gobsmacked. It had been too long since I indulged in the diner experience and this presentation was utter perfection. Not a word I use often.

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It didn’t hurt that breakfast was served with a stunning view of the runway with prop planes coming and going and the snow-capped Olympic Mountains poking out of the clouds in the distance. Inside this oft-packed venue, the dining room is an adorable tribute to a bygone era of aviation, model planes dangling from the ceiling, retro photos on the walls.

This is the kind of place where regulars don’t even look at the menu, ordering their usual and friendly waitresses are quick to refill the coffee mugs. (OK, the coffee was a bit lackluster, but even that was part of the Old School vibe.)

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I first heard about the Spruce Goose while sitting at Reveille Café on the rambling Fort Worden State Park campus where my husband and I have spent the past month volunteering at the Commanding Officer’s Quarters Museum. That gig gets us a free place to part our tiny home on wheels and explore this incredibly beautiful region.

While sipping an expertly made latte that day, I couldn’t help overhear a nearby table full of gentlemen talking about the merits of the different types of pie at a particular place. Excuse me, I butted in, where would I find this magical pie?

That’s what landed me at The Spruce Goose Cafe, where the lineup of homey desserts is legendary. I asked what was available as soon as the server dropped our menus on the patio table. The list was long, but when rhubarb was mentioned, the choice was clear. Yes, I’m a sucker for that kind of slimy, tart stalk that defies easy description. Is it a fruit or a vegetable? I don’t really care, it reminds me of my grandmother and that’s all I need to know.

But first, might as well have some breakfast. Nothing fancy, though the menu includes an eggs Benedict with crab and shrimp. Decided to keep it simple and ordered a small mushroom omelet, extra crispy hash browns and could I please swap out the toast for a cinnamon roll? No problem.

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You know how sometimes when you’re brunching, it can take a mighty long time for food to arrive. Well, maybe you didn’t notice because those never-ending mimosas filled the empty space. But at a classic cafe like the Spruce Goose, the order was out quicker than a pilot can file his flight plan, delivered steaming hot and was ballet-like elegance by our deft server. I’ve never understood the physics of balancing all those hefty plates and you better believe I left a hefty tip.

My pancake-obsessed husband was the first to break the silence that settled at the table as we marveled at the simple food that was perfectly cooked. “These are really good,” he said. And he’s really darned picky about pancakes. He offered a bite, but I was too busy mmm-ing over the gooey cinnamon roll and the outstanding potatoes and the just-right omelette. It was clear those crispy spuds were not dumped frozen from a bag onto the flat-top grill and I wanted to shake the hand of the hard-working prep cook who made this dish possible.

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Was this a dream? Why is it breakfast has taken a backseat to brunch? These deep thoughts were interrupted when the fat slice of pie arrived. It was still warm and absolutely everything I could have hoped for: flaky crust, a filling that was not too sweet, but just sweet enough to counterbalance the tart rhubarb. Should the server bring another fork? Yes, we shared it. But I’m thinking of circling back for seconds.

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