1/8/10 10:05 AM
On this particular morning, the Minnesota adventure had me on a bit of a downward spiral. Lots to do, not much time, too too too cold out, and leaving my little baby child man behind in a couple of days were getting to me.
And then we set foot in Al’s Breakfast. Recommended to us by Vi, who lived here in the 70s, and by the legendary long lines waiting for one of the 11 stools at the counter, we plunged into the warm, cozy, bacon-fragrant space and were blessed with two empty spots down at the end.
Delicious breakfast foods were served up, with plenty of ancient hippy stoneware vessels holding the salt, pepper, cream and syrup. I had a Mama’s Homefried Truckstop flashback right then and there. I felt not quite so far from home, as the waitress and the cook playfully yelled at each other, and more hungry patrons lined up behind us waiting for our seats. There’s nothing like a good breakfast in a friendly place to reassure you that everything will be just fine.