Saturday, April 20, 2013
LA Countdown: Ed's Coffee Shop
Ed's is my favorite Saturday morning breakfast spot. Breakfast is not usually my first choice when it comes to dining out, mainly because I dislike eggs and they make up the majority of restaurant breakfast menus. Despite this hesitation, I absolutely LOVE this gem and will wholeheartedly sing its praises to anyone who will listen. Wedged between fancy shops on a fancy block of a fancy street, this humble coffee shop doesn't try too hard to be something it's not. A tiny little hole in the wall diner with limited seating and rather restricted weekend hours (7am - 1pm Saturdays, closed Sundays), Ed's does basic breakfast to perfection - delicious morning standards at fantastic prices.
You can feel confident ordering anything here - the kitchen is small and the refrigerator tiny, so ingredients have to be brought in fresh every single morning. It may sound silly, but you can really taste the freshness and it is delightful, as is the waitstaff. Still family owned and operated, an ancient "Mrs. Ed" shows up to work every morning without fail, to claim her perch at the breakfast bar and oversee the happenings. Though she has long been unable to serve tables, it is readily apparent how happy it makes her simply to be there, schmoozing customers, admiring babies and inquiring about weekend plans. Plus, any woman who is cool with having a giant photo of her middle-aged self in a swimsuit on the wall is a baller in my book.
The mini breakfast burritos with home fries are unparalleled. I get them almost every time (melted cheese and a strip of bacon inside yummm). DVC is much more adventurous and has tried nearly everything on the menu. He highly recommends ordering the special, whatever it may be (but especially if it's corned beef hash). Snag a bar seat if you can or an outside table if one is available - there are only two out front, but a few more hiding in the side alley, where pups are also welcome!
Happy Caturday!!
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Adding to the atmosphere is the thick tension between Mrs Ed and her daughter; it lards the air like boiled fat.
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