The Black Bear Diner - Many Places

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow - (Always Phil's Choice)

I went to Oregon this weekend. The one Sunday that Braden had off, I was driving from Eugene, OR, all the way down to L.A. I did this because I love my friends Erin and Ben. I also did this because flying would have cost me $450. Serves me right for waiting until the last minute to look up tickets.

The drive is treacherous, it's true. 16 hours (including stops for gas and food) one-way is a good way to destroy yourself. There are a few positives to the trip, though. I see plenty of beautiful sights on my way through Oregon, and Northern California...

...and every time I do that drive, I stop in Redding, CA, for my lunch. It's roughly the halfway point between Portland and L.A. And if you take the Cypress Ave. exit off of I-5, then go toward Hilltop Rd., you will be face-to-face with one of the great loves of my life: The Black Bear Diner.

I used to live next to one in Beaverton, OR. I always made fun of the name, and the look of the place. Then one day I walked in with my friend David George, and our lives were forever changed. He had the 7-grain pancakes, and I had the California omelet. Neither of us finished our plates. Both of us were more satisfied than we've been in years.

As I sat at the bar in the Black Bear Diner in Redding, a wave of inspiration came over me. I then began to write - compulsively - a tribute to the Black Bear Diner:

What began as a joke,
Turned swiftly to curiosity.
And now it has grown
to addiction inside of me.
I must confess, whenever I come here
From your breakfast I never stray.
But I wonder why would I ever
When I see that beautiful array.
A 7-grain pancake stack,
Each cake the size of your head,
And dense as the material
That makes up your bed.
Eggs Benedict on muffins
Meat or mushrooms as topper,
With 3 different hollandaise sauces,
All made of melted copper.
Your omelets are stuffed, yummy,
And a year's worth of cholesterol,
Your biscuits are soft, fluffy,
And often the size of a football.
Your coffee is plain, mediocre,
But flows like Oregon rain,
And I'm pretty sure each location
Employs an old woman named Lorraine.
Whatever be your short-comings,
Whatever be your bright side,
I will forever love you, Black Bear Diner,
And the plenty you provide.
For when that plate is in front of me
My inner fat kid goes to heaven.
Though you may get a 6 on quality,
On quantity, you always earn an 11.

http://blackbeardiner.com/

Phil was all by his lonesome self, coming back from an epic journey to support his friends, and reclaim his bicycle, Apollo.

The Baker Bakery & Cafe - Ventura Blvd. (Woodland Hills)

September 20th, 2015 - (Phil's Choice)

The Baker Bakery and Cafe from the outside looks like a forgotten deli in an old strip mall. I actually don't even remember what was next to this place. I think there was a dry-cleaning place in there somewhere, but it all sort of looked the same as the rest of the area: desolate.

And then I walked inside and found myself sitting between two worlds. On one side, it was a very nice bakery with a glass case of pastries that would make anyone with a sweet tooth empty their wallet. On the other side it was a classy little cafe and restaurant with a laid-back atmosphere and a serving staff that was very friendly, if a bit shy at times.

Shorty after I took this picture, all of the tables you see were filled. There was never a wait list for seating, but there were never more than one or two tables open after 9:30am.

I was, as usual, early to this little get together. I sat down and ordered a coffee. I was then brought a bread basket with three slices of their house made bread and a little triple dish of butter, kalamata olives, and basil feta cheese. Simple and delicious. The coffee was a good, mild brew of what I can only imagine is a standard coffee like a Starbucks blend. Not brewed to burnt water strength, but with just enough kick to get your pants up and crush the day.

The three people involved in this brunch are the original three who suggested weekly brunch. Ann and I, of course, were there. But this time, we were graced by the presence of Braden Yandel. Braden brought with him his taste for the savory to the table - ordering a very nice looking eggs benedict with what appeared to be some form of beef.

That is a dish of salsa off to the side of the plate. I had some. It's spicy. I bet it goes very well with the beef.

I'm pretty sure it's beef and not bacon, because there were only turkey bacon options, and Braden vowed that turkey bacon was sacrilege, and he would not do it. Ann nodded and continued to munch on her "Brioche French Toast", grumbling like a happy little minion.

I'm going to be honest, even as I typed the word "brioche" I did not know what it meant. Just looked it up. Apparently it's defined as a "really eggy bread". It just looked like French Toast to me. I mean, it looked like GOOD French Toast, but it didn't look ESPECIALLY French. Ann, however, approved of it by saying, "mmmm... jaaaa..." when asked if it was good.

I decided to go big today. I had the one thing on the menu that this place is known for: The Stuffed French Toast Tower. On all the websites it got the highest ratings out of anything else on the menu. And when it arrived, I actually said, "oh, my God."

Because it looks like a cake. This French Toast was ABSOLUTELY stuffed with a strawberry-jam-cream-cheese filling, and topped with their own hand-made clotted cream. A small drizzle of syrup took this dish from the realm of unhealthy, right into diabetes-inducing. Each bite I took of this wonderful dish required me to drink some coffee to bring the sugar intensity level down in my mouth.

This may have been the slowest I've ever had to eat anything. Usually I go from zero-to-empty-plate in a matter of five minutes. Which always prompts people to ask if I actually enjoyed what I ate. Then I have to explain to everyone that I eat faster the more I love it. Then they judge me for it, and the rest of the meal I make a self-conscious effort to chew each bite 30 times so that I don't feel the fiery wrath of other people's judgy-eyes on me. Point being, that the richness of the food was a little daunting, but certainly worth every bite. And I didn't get judged for cramming my face like a warthog!

In the end, I paid $18, not including tip. That was for a bottomless coffee, a side of two scrambled eggs, and the French Toast Tower. The bread basket was free. If you are in Woodland Hills, or in any of the surrounding communities, or have a car and can brave Highway 101 in the morning, this place is a phenomenal place to sit down and enjoy a laid-back time with a few friends.

From left to right: Braden "Always Lit" Yandel, Phillip "M Stands for Manly" Meyer, and Ann "Me Want Banana" Beckette

www.thebakerbakerycaferestaurant.com

Coral Cafe - Burbank Blvd. (Burbank)

September 13th, 2015 - (Ann's Choice)

Coral Cafe - American Traditional Style Diner. And boy, is it. It is located on a fairly dumpy part of Burbank Boulevard, and if you were driving five miles an hour over the speed limit, and didn't know it was there, you would miss it.

Coral Cafe is the epitome of medium-sized family diners. It is a bright and open little dining area with plenty of seating. It has a bit of a corporate-chain-diner feel to it, akin to a Shari's, or an Elmer's. Or a Black Bear Diner. Now, I love me some Black Bear Diner. But this place just didn't have the homey feeling that a Black Bear has. In fact, it seemed like a pretty shabby diner that was every bit as dumpy as it's surroundings...

And as I sipped on my very generic coffee, alternately with my tap water through a straw, that feeling grew and grew...

...that is, until I opened the menu.

At first glance there isn't a whole lot to it. Omelets, pancakes, waffles, scrambles... pretty much the standard arrangement of diner breakfast foods, with no real emphasis or specialty. Then you begin to read, and realize that almost every conceivable alteration, addition, and twist on these dishes is not only listed and encouraged, but also has a complete pricing list. So you know what it will cost to add avocado or cheese, or have the omelet eggs be exclusively from a gluten-free fed chicken.

Ann and I had a mild headache as we sat frozen in the thick of a menu that reading like a Henry David Thoreau essay. I actually thought for a moment that I was going to have to write a comparative paper between the drinks menu and the lunch specials.

I settled on the veggie omelet. But I added spinach, made it an egg-white only omelet, subbed country potatoes for the hash browns, and had them give me two buttered biscuits instead of toast. The omelet was exactly as I expected it would be: greasy and delicious. There was a 1:1 cheese-to-everything-else ratio on my plate, which was a little strange. I had to use a knife to cut through the cheese layer to get to my omelet. But the country potatoes were quite nice, and the biscuits more than made up for the mildly bad diner coffee.

Codie ended up having the strawberry crepes and a MASSIVE plate of hash browns. And as I plucked strawberries off her plate while she wasn't looking, I was admiring how NOT greasy and TOTALLY perfect the hash browns were. If there is an art to hash browns, this cook was Picasso-esque with his touch in creation.

I ended up paying $14 for my meal. That was with alterations, additions, and coffee. The coffee was not great but you sure get your money's worth. I think they came every five minutes to refill all the glasses. Bill had good things to say about the orange juice. All-in-all, not horrible. Not horrible at all. If you're in the area (for some strange reason) and you want BREAKFAST AT ANY HOUR (yep) this is a totally worthwhile place to set down for a spell and grab some grub. You won't be disappointed by anything. You just won't be overwhelmed by anything. Well, except the menu.

www.coralcafe.com

With: Phillip M. Meyer's Ego, Codie "Rush-of-the-Crush" Beck, Bill "Cheap Date" Nietz, and three of Ann Beckette's four personalities.

"The Waffle" - Sunset Blvd. (Hollywood)

September 6th, 2015 - (Phil's Choice)

The Waffle - A stylish little diner right next to the Columbia College media center. The Waffle is there to serve delicious Belgian-style waffles in a cute little 60's diner motif.

The media center is there as a place to lean against while you wait for seating at The Waffle.

The Waiting:

Oh, I didn't wait that long for seating. In fact, the staff there were VERY good about getting people seated. The line in front of me would normally have taken 45 minutes to an hour in Portland. My name was called 15 minutes after I put my name in. I did a quadruple take. (If you want to know what a quadruple take looks like, look up "Patrick Stewart Quadruple Take" on YouTube. You're welcome)

Also, I found out later, there is a little bar outside the restaurant where you can order drinks while you wait for seating. It was probably for the best that I did not initially notice this, otherwise I would have been face-down drunk at the breakfast bar using a bowl of waffle batter as a crown, holding a spatula as a scepter and making people swear their fealty to King Waffle.

Parking on Sunset Blvd. is an absolute catastrophe. There are about seven spots total over a three mile stretch, and they are all metered. One of them is a two hour spot. So, here's a tip: There is allegedly a parking lot on Argyle street right next to the restaurant that accepts validation from The Waffle for 90 minutes. For two hours of parking, expect to pay two bucks. I wish I had known this sooner, as I was tagging out every hour to go run my card in a parking meter.


The Service:

Our server, Ginny, handled our group like a pro. When asked, she gave great suggestions, and not one of them involved us jumping off a bridge. Also: Ginny was totally pregnant. No mistaking it. No hiding it. COMPLETELY preggers. Walking around with a purpose and quickness of one who "has this shit under control." You can tell she will be a good mother.

Codie and I are writers. We are also theatre nerds. To say that we debate things often and loudly is an understatement. It is like a Greek debate with us, full of expression, gesticulation, and ethos. Ginny did a fantastic job of knowing when to leave us alone, and just refill our glasses, and knowing when to come over and take care of us. We waited maybe three minutes for the check to be picked up and split. Just well done.

The Drinks:

They serve "double-wide" mimosas there for $6 a pop. It will last you the whole brunch, unless you're there to DRINK. The champagne they use is bitter, and the orange juice only serves to bring out how tart the champagne is. It adds a nice contrast to the sweetness of the waffles. Also, they are served in a mason jar mug. Charmingly dive.

Bill declined a mimosa, citing lightweight tendencies. If anyone has a good synonym for "one-bottle-willy" or "two-beer-queer", please post. I need more names to call him.

The coffee is also tart, and good. It's a little strong and a little bitter, but it serves as a great pairing to the sweet food. Make no mistake - the coffee and the featured cocktails are geared toward the waffles

The Food:

I was torn between getting the blueberry lemon waffle, or the banana walnut waffle. When I asked the server which one I should choose, she said, "why don't you get half of each?" My brain hiccuped, and my eyes read, "404 File Not Found". Ginny simply wrote down my implied order, and moved on to the next person with a smile. (Thanks, future mom!) It ended up being about two bucks more for that "special" order.

The blueberry lemon waffle was a bit much. There were a few blueberries in the waffle, but mostly it was a compote that was paired with a HEAPING portion of lemon curd on top. My only note would be less lemon curd. It felt like my brain was trying to escape the lemon curd through my sinuses - and it completely overpowered any chance of me tasting waffle.

The waffle that I LOVED was the banana walnut waffle. Both things baked in the waffle, with a little bit of clotted cream and some strawberries on top.

Now THIS is a waffle. The tastes complemented each other with a lightness that allowed each flavor to stand alone, as well as blend together - while still being sweet enough to work with the drinks. If you're going to get a sweet waffle, I HIGHLY recommend this one.

For the savory side, Ann got the hashbrown waffle. As she put it later, it was "freaking boom good". I did not try it, however my very talkative friend was silently mesmerized by this waffle for a solid ten minutes while she enjoyed it. Eggs and clotted cream are also on this bad boy. All I can think is that if a waffle can shut us up, it's good.

The Cost:

This is one of the things that EVERYONE wants to know: Was it affordable? This is the best part about the meal - the total cost. I got two halves of a giant waffle, two scrambled eggs, a coffee, and a double-wide mimosa. My total bill was $24. Add a tip and parking, and it rounds to an even $30. If you don't want to spend a ton of money, you can totally just have a waffle and some water and spend HALF that.

$30 total to hang out with four really awesome people, eat a bunch of food that I didn't prepare, and pontificate on the nature of a constantly dying art is a bargain. Add a pleasant 1960s atmosphere, with good service and almost no wait time? I'd say that's a win. And something to be thankful for that we can even do.

From left to right: Bill Neitz, esq., THE Codie Beck, Dr. Shelly Gillette, Ann "Bucks-up" Beckette, and Duke Phillip M. Meyer II

http://thewafflehollywood.com/

An Oregon Boy's Intro to California Brunch

I love brunch.

I do not go out to brunch often, as I do not have the funds or the time to. I work five days a week, at an 8:00-4:30 clip, and work out six days a week. So I tend to spend most of my time eating to fuel my body, and simply keep it going. "Coal in the furnace" as it were.

But on the seventh day - that glorious seventh day - I brunch. It is not a meal to fuel my body. It is a meal to fuel my spirit, and dash all other meals into momentary obsolescence. It is also the only time when you can get publicly hammered-ass drunk at 11:00 in the morning and no one of any age, race or gender will look at you as though you're a naked vagrant sleeping on their front lawn.


I live in Los Angeles, California. Well, more accurately, Burbank. I am not from this area, though. I was born and raised in Oregon, and have spent most of my adult life in Portland. I only moved here in the last month or so. Portland is replete with delicious brunch places, all of which are so popular that you have to get there an hour before you intend to sit down and place an order. But the quality is often impeccable, and almost always worth the wait. Now that I've acclimated to life down in the city of (fallen) angels, I decided it was time to start experiencing all the brunch this giant place has to offer.

I recently befriended a group of people down here in California who are artists, like myself. One of these crazy people is a girl named Ann Beckette, who shares my enthusiasm for brunch. After a few brunch outings, it became clear to us that we were going to make this a regular thing, and now each of us is tasked to choose a new place every Sunday, where we go to gorge ourselves on rich food and drinks.

This blog will be part review, part celebration of good food, and part self-indulgent story-telling. For, what is brunch, if not a touch indulgent?