Dad and an old college friend meet for breakfast or brunch about once monthly. Dad’s pal Wes chooses the eatery, and Dad drives. Last week, Wes decided upon a very popular dining establishment in St. Pete Beach where they could chat about the present and past over a late breakfast-brunch. 

Breakfast, which is purportedly the most important meal of the day, almost killed my dad. Well, not literally. But he said that hands down, this was the Worst Breakfast Ever in his 73 years. 

According to Dad, this much-lauded restaurant, famous for its breakfast menu, makes the Fawlty Towers chef look like Gordon Ramsay. My poor dad suffered through a basic meal that even a six year-old could prepare correctly.

In Dad’s words:

“The bacon was so overdone and crispy, I took one bite and the other half went flying across the table.

My English muffin was so hard it literally crumbled in my hand. They didn’t even have orange marmalade available to glue it together.

The eggs over-easy were not easy at all. They were rubbery, and the yolks were cooked through with a tinge of green.

There was some kind of vegetation on my plate.  It wasn’t lettuce, or parsley; just some kind of...green decorative plant. The orange slice looked harmless enough, so I’ll give it credit.

The hash browns were simply sliced red potatoes left in the pan too long to blacken and turn crunchy.

I asked for orange juice. They had none. (Here we are the middle of Florida!)

When my coffee was refilled, I thought I would wait a few minutes for it to cool off. Guess what? Three minutes later, I took one sip and it was ice cold! She served me pre-cooled coffee!”

During this gastronomic train-wreck, Wes, while pontificating on the breakdown of the electoral college system, gobbles the exact same breakfast platter, murmuring between bites how yummy it is. Either Wes’s taste buds were held hostage, or my dad’s comical repast was carefully plotted beforehand by a band of sadistic chefs.

**

Rumor has it that pedestrian ‘egg-on-toast’ breakfasts are passe. The hearty ‘full English breakfast’s demise has been widely reported throughout Europe, yet the filling fry-up seems to be gaining ground here in the States (especially for ex-pat Brits and anyone who likes three or more kinds of meat in the morning). 

Now this place serves a mean, yet classy ‘fast (below). Big, warm plates, abundant and exotic fruit juices, and omelets to die for.