One day I happened to be in the dumphole known as ‘Vallejo’, and I chanced upon this curiosity of a restaurant:

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Probably the coolest name for a restaurant I’ve heard yet. 

The Joy Of Eating is close to some other delicious looking restaurants, which offer up some stiff competition. First, you got Uncle Sam:

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Uncle Sam. Big Brother. Stiff competition indeed. 

Then of course you got Sac’s Tasty Hot Dogs:

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If you are looking for a diamond in some rough chili cheese this is your shit right here. 

Sac’s of course being the Summoning The Feast Winner Of 2015 for creepiest Facebook picture:

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Is that a finger???

So you better believe that with some heavy hitting contenders in the Vallejo food game like this, The Joy Of Eating is gonna be bringing their A-Game.

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Let’s step inside:

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This place was really busy, with all sorts of different folks getting their grub on, which is rather refreshing. Most of the breakfast places in the Bay Area, as far as I’ve experienced, are rather sterile environments for white people to sit and be seen by other white people. This place feels like actual living fucking people hang out and eat here. There is mostly just a bunch of model train stuff and pictures of trains on the walls, because apparently some dude loved trains:

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‘Great Train Lover’ aka ‘Loser Dad’.

Everything on the menu is a train reference too:

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Mainline Breakfast eh? Sometimes I can be known to be a ‘Mainline Rider’:

If you don’t like this song your scranus is probably infected and it has spread to your ears. 

So I ordered the #1 Breakfast. Steak and Eggs baby! Really, what’s more American that eating Steak and Eggs for breakfast? Plus, over the years eating a ton of sugary sweets like French Toast first thing in the morning has lost its appeal. My friend still enjoys the sugar rush though, and she got her fix:

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French toast and a Hot Chocolate. God damn. 

She ate so much they wrote about her in the paper:

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Portion sizes here are not dinky. My food came and I was a little startled/stoked:

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I try to use hyperbole lightly, but really, I do think this is the best breakfast I’ve ever had. Potatoes, which I usually find bland in most circumstances, were perfectly seasoned and golden crispy. Eggs were cooked just the way I like; just runny enough so that they spew their contents, but don’t have any gelatinous clear goo on them. The steak was also pretty delicious. It wasn’t quite medium rare like I had asked, but whatever, it’s still a fat ass slab of meat that took like 100 million gallons of water to make, and I’ll be grateful for it.

So yes, the food was absolutely incredible, but this place is known for their toast above all else:

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It’s about an inch thick and buttered to oblivion. This puts all other restaurants’ toasts to shame. That thin, wimpy common man’s bread is like dog food compared to this.

The server chick was fucking cool. I hate feeling like I’m being ‘waited on’ because there is an inherent weirdness that comes with service that makes me feel like I’m paying someone to be nice to me. Sometimes though there are waiters and waitresses that are just absolute pros and they just make you feel like they and you are just chillin’. She was also always on point with the coffee refills, which of course led to me having to have the Black Butter Blasts:

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Me in the bathroom.

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Actual close-up of my asshole. 

I highly recommend this place. Go.

I’m so right. 

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