I could nitpick on a number of things in my breakfast above, be it the room temperature eggs, the scorched corned beef hash, or the orange juice from concentrate. But I really didn't mind any of that this morning. I just wanted to hit a classic American diner, and this retro South Bay chain fit the bill. There's something oddly appealing about pulling oneself up to a counter and getting served truck-stop-style. Besides, a good dousing of Tabasco helped to bring about satisfaction.
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