Eddie's Cafe is good news for people who love bad news. The family that runs the place will greet you with a shout within seconds of your crossing the threshold, put your food in front of you within about two minutes of your ordering, and have your check waiting quietly by the sugar thing within about fifteen minutes of your sitting down.

Here an old man can sit down and, when the proprietress asks cheerily, "How are you today?" he can answer, "Not too bad, I guess," without a look askance. At the counter, hipsters mingle with leathery working men, pointing to each others' food in signal of what they want, and there's always a short line outside the door. The coffee is bottomless, though not particularly fresh, and the eggs are always decently greasy, if undercooked. Eddie's Cafe is a place you feel good about eating alone; here you feel good nursing a hangover, cavilling to a buddy about a girlfriend, or just generally feeling like shit.

Northeast Corner of Divisadero and Fulton.

(December 4, 2004)