by: Bet Cloven

When I first entered the Breakfast Palace Country Steakhouse, I was taken by its spacious décor and hardwood floors. We weren’t sandwiched into booths made for Twiggy at the Heat ‘em, Eat ‘em, and Beat ‘em Out The Door Restaurant. There were real tables with real chairs, and an enormous wooden bar that stretched a full thirty feet long, all intricately designed – a tribute to some forgotten carpenter whose craft lived on only slightly longer than he. Part of the bar had been quasi-replaced with less attractive patchwork boards that, in my opinion, did not detract from the original piece, but instead pointed it out to me. There were bar stools and the requisite footrest for inactive cowboy boots. Adorning the bar were the most endearing collection of ceramic frogs and, behind the bar and against the far wall, a counter with an antique cash register. There was an odd collage of decorations that somehow seemed to "fit." Above and behind the counter, the wall was covered with an old mirror, perfectly marred by time and humidity and a touch of dance-hall excess. Outlining the mirror, there was more intricate woodwork, fashioned to resemble Corinthian columns with Ionic capitals.

Immediately after we seated ourselves, Erikka greeted us. Erikka is a young, attractive waitress with a genuine smile and an obvious love for the atmosphere in which she works. It took only mild encouragement before Erikka told us what she could about the history of the restaurant. The restaurant had originally been the Pflugerville Tavern, she said, and the long, ornate bar I admired really had been a bar.

After ordering our breakfasts, Erikka acted as tour guide, and we took a stroll into the back rooms of the restaurant where banquets were held and small local bands played. Wade and I were both immediately impressed with the huge toy box full of colorful and safe amusements for all the children to enjoy. And there WERE children! One baby seemed to take an enormous amount of pleasure in exercising her lungs, but even the sound of the baby crying was appropriate for the getting-back-to-basics restaurant.

We’d taken our time ordering, since the restaurant itself had so captured our attention, and by the time our food arrived, we were on our third round of coffee. Wade drank regular and I was enjoying fresh decaf – it hadn’t been setting there for hours.

Now, I had ordered the country fried steak and egg breakfast. Sounds simple, eh? Not so… Erikka brought my order out on two large dinner plates. On one, was the country-fried steak, fully taking up half the plate. The eggs were exactly as I’d ordered them, and to the side were the "home fries," or fried potato chunks. Pay attention here. These aren’t hashed browns. These aren’t "freeze-dried, sawdust, smashed-to-LOOK-like-potato-chunks" I’m describing. They were real potatoes with real seasonings. There was a gentle sprinkling of parsley flakes on the gravy that had been ladled onto the steak. On the second plate were split biscuits with sausage gravy* ¹ . Actually, I think they were just a tad over-generous with the gravy on both the biscuits and the country fried steak, but the truth is, I can scrape excess gravy off to the side.

Meanwhile, Wade has this thing about pancakes. I mean, he really likes pancakes. His breakfast also arrived on two full size plates. The three pancakes in his order took up one of those plates, and stood about 3 inches tall. This isn’t a case of "use an extra plate to make it look like there’s more food." The pancakes took up the whole danged plate. On Wade’s second plate were his home fries and eggs, also cooked exactly as he’d ordered, and his bacon and sausage. Wade’s breakfast cost about the same as mine – and he ordered a large orange juice. Just like I did with my meal, Wade filled up, and then took most of his breakfast with him in a Styrofoam box.

Just before we left, Erikka filled our travel mugs with fresh hot coffee, and brought out extra half-n-half. Tax and tip included, we spent only $26.⁰⁰, and the meals fed each of us twice.