Pach’s Place, located in the bottom corner of an office building, is not at all what it may first appear to be. The awning above the door states the name and the simple words, “For Good Food.” They’re not kidding.
The smell of a hot skillet breakfast and the hustling of middle-aged waitresses met me as I joined the line waiting to be seated just inside the door. The small dining room was packed by 9:30 on a Sunday morning, and I had to wait a few minutes to get a table.
As I took my seat, I noticed the people populating the noisy diner. The ladies wore Nike jogging suits with their diamond earrings, and the men were decked out in Tommy Bahama. The location of the restaurant—on the corner of Bayshore and Bay-to-Bay Boulevard can be determined by the guests enjoying their pancakes and eggs.
This is a classy greasy spoon.
My waitress, upon my request, plopped a mug full of hot coffee down in front of me and asked, “Do you know what you’re eatin’, hon?”
I did. The sun reflecting off the Bay inspired me to order Pach’s Sunrise Special. The plate offered two eggs, two sausage patties or four slices of bacon, home fries or grits, toast or biscuit, coffee or tea and a small juice to go with it all. That sounded like the perfect way to start my day. I chose eggs overeasy, bacon, home fries, wheat toast and orange juice.
My meal took only about ten minutes to arrive, which was impressive given the small size of the kitchen and the filled-to-overflowing dining room. The eggs were cooked to perfection, the home fries hot, bacon crisp, and toast was buttered already, for my convenience. It was all there, a sublime home-style breakfast. The waitress, however, did forget my orange juice.
I reminded her mid-way through my meal, and she said, “Oh, you wanted juice?” and darted off before I could mention that it came with my breakfast. She brought back a large glass and began to add the item to the check she had already placed on the table.
I said I thought it came with the entrée, and then she laughed, said, “Oh, yeah,” and took the juice away. She brought back a shot-glass-sized portion of juice and stated that was the one that came with my meal. She scooted away again, and I stared giggling at the embarrassingly small juice before I downed it in one gulp.
At least the coffee came with free refills.
I finished about two-thirds of the meal before I could do no more. For $5.50, I was filled-up for most of the day.
I happily picked up my check and headed towards the counter, satisfied with the entire experience. But I did drink more orange juice later that day.
Moriah Parrish can be reached at mparrish@spartans.ut.edu.