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Last week, we talked about "ordering the right thing" -- recognizing the specialties of the house and what would be appropriate to drink there.
Similarly, there are coffee-related ventures where the coffee quality doesn't matter. Not as much, at least, so long as it's hot and plentiful and the server is quick on the draw with that carafe.
I speak, of course, of the "coffee shop." Or diner, if you prefer.
Does anyone agree that there would be something inherently wrong with getting a perfectly balanced, dark roasted, strong espresso drink (a la something from Caffe Trieste) in the context of having six people crammed into a vinyl-covered booth, eating hangover food?
The Olympic Flame Cafe at 555 Geary Street lends itself very well to hangover recovery.
Grease? Check. Heart-clogging menu items? Check. Southern influenced indulgences (biscuits and gravy! Chicken-fried steak and eggs!)? Check. The starchiest of starches to be dipped in syrup (french toast, a variety of pancakes, and more)? But of course.
Just a few of Olympic Flame Cafe's options -- state-of-the art display is half the charm.
We personally went with the healthy option. Our breakfast included vitamin-laden spinach. You know, along with the oozing cheese, buttered eggs, and ground chuck.
MMMmmMmmmmmm.
Coffee shop coffee is not to be savored. Rather, it serves to rehydrate as it washes down the ample portions. Since caffeine is a diuretic, a weaker version perhaps helps you rehydrate a bit better. So long as there's cream and sugar (or fake sugar, for those who prefer carcinogens to carbohydrates), it's hard to do coffee shop coffee wrong.
The coffee cups are ever-full as well, with the friendly, attentive service there at Olympic. When our server got an order wrong, in fact, she opted to just let us keep them extra pancakes.
Oh, yeah. Your Trimethyldioxypurist loves "free."
Table cluttered with people, O.J. and coffee. Greaaaazy and starchy delights pending.
Our server was at our table so often that there were plenty of opportunities to ask just what sort of coffee was being served. But we never actually asked. Frankly, it didn't actually matter - it was diner coffee. The whole experience verged on Seinfeldian, what with the good company, hot food, and kitschy interior.
So check out Olympic Flame Cafe. While the coffee won't win any awards, it's good for what ails ya, and the cuisine embodies the Olympian ideals of fair play, health, and . . oh, nevermind.
We liked it, though.
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Any time you're ready for the diner goodness of SOMA's HRD coffee shop, let me know. I'm drinking some right now, and my heart is beating like a tiny bunny's...
Biscuits + Sausage Gravy + Louisiana Hot Sauce = Hangover Heaven!
I'm debating whether I would have preferred a morning at Caffe Trieste to one at the Olympic Cafe and at this point it's hard to say. The pancakes definitely beat IHOP's. And I am happy to now be famous on the internet as I read a menu. Hopefully many years from now, anthropologists will discover this web page and puzzle over my inscrutible expression, wondering what philosophical tracts or mystical secrets I am poring over.