Hale's Restaurant

Love this place!

Sometimes you have too much wine the night before, sometimes you stay up until the wee hours of the morning with your lady friend, sometimes you need something to cut through the damp, dizzying light of noon on a bleary Sunday in the burbs.

So you crawl your way into your car and make the foray onto minivan and soccer mom infested TV highway.  You brave the left turn into the dangerous Hale's parking lot teaming with oldsters with bad eyesight. Their giant metal trucks backing up and ready to crush your tiny import into bits if you misread your turn.

Once you make it safely inside, you'll get your fix: a greasy plate of biscuits and gravy, a cheese and bacon omelet, or a bacon waffle and a bloody mary to wash the Sunday blues away.

This place is a dinosaur. A sweet, grandmotherly dinosaur, who wants nothing more than to send you home with a pleased and slightly larger belly. The dinosaur (let's call her Grandma Rex) keeps a harem of mostly young girls at her disposal to run the front of the house, their fresh faces a stark contrast with the worn decor that takes you back to a decade you probably didn't even exist in. And in the kitchen, she keeps the faceless, nameless heroes who have perfected one thing: Omelets.

Let's get something uncomfortable out of the way first. I can't give G-Rex five stars, because...*looks around* *whispers*...she never really could manage a good dinner. Bless her heart - she tried. But if I had grown up under her roof, I would have concocted every fake school project imaginable to bike to a friend's house, a friend whose parents boldly experimented with...I dunno...spices? Herbs? In short, dinners here have been uniformly bland, if inoffensive.

So breakfast is where it's at here, omelets in particular. These are not delicate foo-foo omelets, topped with a sprig of something green and inedible. These omelets are a mass of egg as big as your face (except for you, sir, with the more petite features) and studded liberally with whatever meats and veggies you choose. If you add bacon, prepare to be pleased: they use thick, hearty chunks from what must have been very fat and happy pigs. You can pair your omelet with toast, potatoes, or the option that makes G-Rex proudest: pancakes. Make sure to ask for the berry syrup. Although G-Rex clucks disapprovingly at my inability to finish the meal, it's nice to take home half of an omelet for a future reunion, and it actually reheats pretty well.

So to review: If you find yourself here for dinner, you have two options. Preferably, order your omelet off the breakfast menu. Otherwise, hop on your bike to your friend's house, for a "school project".