The origin of the word "restaurant," I read is from the French, meaning, "to restore." Never before in the gastronomical history of this big blue marble has a food-serving enterprise so aptly earned this title, than in the case of The Boondocks.
I refer specifically here to the Sunday morning experience, as I have not visited this establishment at any other day or time. My routine is to drive 45 miles from Boston to pick up my parents (and the occasional hangers-on) and after exchanging familiar pleasantries and inter-generational embraces, we fire up the wagon and head over to the intersection of N Main and Locust.
The parking lot is unpaved, and also unmarked. Park your car a good two feet from the next one, and rest assured that the next driver will afford you the same courtesy. The niceness of this place apparently pervades its clientele. Walk through the back entrance, and wait a few moments (never more than a minute) to be warmly greeted by a perpetual motion machine posing as a hostess, before she hustles off to clean a table (probably yours) or toss two tables together for a large party, with so little effort you can hear the Popeye music playing.
Be seated, and don't even bother to look at the menu. Chances are, there are enough people eating enough goodness that would not look out of place in the Errol Flynn version of Robin Hood, or any TV commercial where they make food look impossibly tasty. Point at what you want. Or, heck, ask one of the infinitely friendly waitstaff what they suggest. Be prepared to banter, and maybe volunteer some info about where you're from. Even if you have ZERO charisma (points at self), they'll make you feel like the funniest and most interesting person on the planet.
If you like coffee, then you're all set. They don't have a pipe that constantly fills your cup, but the next best thing is a benevolent army of double-fisting servers who have somehow tapped into the psychic energy of the universe (or maybe just the local vicinity of Berkley) to develop clairvoyance enough, not only to detect the level of the brew in your cup, but more skillfully, to detect when it matters to YOU. And we're not talking ham-fisted hovering either...no no no that is amateur hour. If I prefer my coffee to be refilled when it's at a 2/3 level, you can bet that I will NOT be bothered with an attempt to refill until my cup reaches THAT point. Those goofy blue "learning" thermostats have got nothing on these people.
The food? Sometimes it takes a minute. Sometimes it takes 10 minutes. Expect it to get delivered by three different people. Ask for anything you don't have, and it will come in a heartbeat. Make sure you're hungry. If you don't like something, make noise (don't stew in your seat and internally complain!) and it'll get fixed. Immediately. Tastewise? I can only speak for the omelettes (which are huge and good and sometimes go great with Franks (you narcissist!) Hot Sauce and sometimes as is. The French toast comes in a bunch of different styles, and they are all great. If you like something more sweet, more drowned, more whatever... just ask for it and they'll accommodate. If you kind of want to try a bunch of stuff not on the menu... one egg plus this plus that... they'll do that as well. I've not tried this, but I suspect that if you sat down with a sign draped around your neck saying, "MAKE ME THE BEST BREAKFAST EVER! I HAD A ROUGH WEEK." you'd be happy with the results. I am thinking of trying that next week. Vegetarian? No problem.
Be prepared to be called "hon" or some other kind of name that you'd secretly hope to be called when you visit a casual dining establishment on a Sunday morning. Expect some loud(ish) families, but nothing that would make it on to Boston.com. There are three TVs, and they all play some kind of news... generally NECN. So you get to eat an awesome breakfast and catch up on stories about how some deer rescued some dog from some flood in some town you've never heard of, or how two kids are trying to raise awareness of videogame addiction by throwing water balloons at each other. You know the kind of low-cal TV I'm talking about. Chill. The only way your blood pressure will go up in THIS place is from the breakfast food indulgence you will experience.
Raise your ears and you'll hear all manner of conversations, from the Pats to family gossip to poorly referenced and PG13 profanity-laced discourse on geopolitics or higher education (but only if I'm there).
My only request? When you've finished your breakfast, please don't dawdle. One final awesome thing about this place is that everyone appears to be really sensitive about the line that forms in the waiting area. So do the right thing... when you're finished, pay yer bill, tip like you have something terminal, and go enjoy the rest of your day. And ENJOY you shall. This place will literally RESTORE your will to live, if you let it. read more