I finally, for the first time, ate breakfast at the Dublin Country Waffles with the boys.
My husband and his former roommate, Danilo, have been going to breakfast with each other most Saturdays since Jeff moved back to the Bay Area in 1990.
When I became Jeff’s Palo Alto roommate and Danilo moved up to San Ramon, they started alternating locations. One week, Danilo would drive just shy of an hour each way so they could eat at their old stomping grounds, El Paso in Mountain View. The next, Jeff would be the one to cross bridges in quest of breakfast. All so they can sit, eat, read the papers, and generally not say much.
Carter has been many times (and I think Danilo misses him when he’s not there), but this was my first sojourn to the Waffle House. While I didn’t have a waffle, I can recommend the omelets. The waitresses sprinkle in a lot of “Honeys and “Dears,” and your coffee cup is always full. Dumbarton or San Mateo bridge? Carter makes the call, and I’m there.
Carter: Breakfast is all about salty meat: serve bacon, sausage, or better both, and I’m there.
