Counter Cafe: A food coma waiting to happen

As a lover of all things breakfast, it's hard not to fall in love with a city that transcends culinary beauty in the morning meal. As my dad would say, it's hard to find somewhere in Austin to eat that's bad. Every meal brings comfort, mixed with flair, and a tiny taste of weird. With so much to offer, Austin can seem daunting. So much to eat, but such a small wallet and a waist line to think about. But still, in the two years I've lived here, I've tried ever so hard to broaden my horizons. It's easy for a girl like me to become used to particular joints and become a regular. I'm trying to break the habit. It's been my goal to adventure dine; find new and funky places that my taste buds will delight in. Especially for the most important meal of the day.

The Exterior on North Lamar
(photo: me)

For my first stop, I chose a place that I have passed at least 50 times since I've lived in this beautiful city. Located on North Lamar, just north of Whole Foods, the Counter Cafe doesn't make much of an impression from afar. But despite its simple signage and a tiny property, this diner was just what I was looking for. I had promised one of my roommates we would experience this magical meal together after we watched a special on the restaurant on the Food Network's Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives. But I had to be a terrible friend and jumped at the opportunity to go with my dad when he was in town for the weekend.

My dad, being a foodie himself, relishes in the excitement of a delicious breakfast, just like me. He's more of a sausage man, but I'll let that one slide. We woke up at 8:30 a.m. (actually I woke up at 8:30 a.m., he'd been up since 5 a.m.) and drove down Lamar with little to no expectations. We quickly parked in the tiny parking lot and put in our names. Our 15 minute wait felt like nothing as we chatted and he tried to find an ATM (the man loves to have cash).

We sat down at the counter, fairly ironic if you ask me, and ordered two bottomless coffees. First points granted. We grazed the menu but I already had an idea what I wanted. Any type of benedict. Actually I probably would've had anything with hollandaise on top but a benedict was what I was craving. I was raised on poached eggs for breakfast in bed and eggs florentine every Christmas morning. You can say I've been spoiled and/or brainwashed into loving this amazing creation. That being said, I consider myself a benedict connoisseur and judge the quality of any restaurant based off the runny-ness of the egg. I'm a very tough critic. I quickly decided on the pastrami benedict and my dad, being the very self-less person that he is, decided he wanted in on that action and asked if we could split it. We came to a conclusion: he would get the crab cake benny and I would stick with pastrami and we would pretend like we were good at sharing food.

One of the two chefs working in his small arena
(photo: my spellbound father)

As we waited for our meals, my dad and I watched the chefs make magic. Two guys working with unreal speed and precision as they bobbed and weaved throughout the 3x5 kitchen. It was like a dance. One would fry the potatoes, one would watch the eggs, one would douse a biscuit in a massive amount of gravy. It was organized chaos at its finest. We didn't speak to each other for a solid 15-20 minutes, as we were completely mesmerized by this talent. My dad commented, "I could never do this, I would be sweating all over everyone's food." Gross, but accurate. These two men worked will such immediacy but such grace.

We received our food after a quick wait and again conversation ceased as the starting gun went off. Sided with finely cut hash potatoes, both benedict's were so perfectly cooked and were so different in the best possible way. We were having a perfect moment.

Crab Cake Benny on the left, Pastrami Benny on the Right
(photo: me)

We finished our meals way too fast but enjoyed every bite. Even as we were full and happy, we watched the chefs continue to work at their unreal pace and commented how we might have to return the next day to try everything else on the menu. Soon our blissful state turned sleepy and we forced ourselves to take a long walk to burn off a delicious and filling breakfast. 

Paul likes a little spice. We call this "Fire on the Mountain."
(photo: me)

It was indeed a breakfast for the books. I imagine this would be a place I would go if my life were a sitcom. The friendly people, the implicit character of the diner and the beyond scrumptious food made me want to come back every morning. If only.