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Cheap Eats By Dan
Leone Memento mori ONE OF MY favorite people to give eggs to is Bernie Jungle. He's one of my oldest friends around here. My brother Dave, an anthropologist now and a bartender then, sent Bernie to me, from Ohio, 12, 13, I don't know, 14 years ago. Now we have crossed the country together in vans many times, playing music and not playing music. When Bernie sends me an e-mail, it reads like poetry. In this case the poem was about walking into garbage cans or something, almost stepping on an almost-dead squirrel. It also mentioned an East Bay breakfast joint I'd never heard of, the Full House. I used to love to play cards. I used to be good at Ping-Pong. I commemorate my dead by eating what they loved to eat, on their birthdays. Food for me is the bridge to anywhere. Life. Death. Love. Naps. A stomachache. You know I don't believe in nothing, not even juju anymore. So it's not about that. It's just an attempt to tap into something, a certain currency, in my own brain, by way of triggering a memory. That's all. There's a feeling that goes with it, a sort of sucking, slurpy sadness, like soup, and that feeling is a big (and beautiful) part of being alive. For me. This morning, Aug. 30, I had breakfast with my friend Bernie, who's still alive still, too. There was nothing particularly surreal about this meal, just corned beef hash, waffles, biscuits and gravy, eggs, toast, smoked chicken, good strong coffee ... Did I mention eggs? I didn't have any eggs to give to Bernie, was the thing, because I'd given them all away the night before. So I figured the next best thing would be to buy him breakfast. The Full House. MacArthur and Thirty-somethingth in Oakland. What is that? The Laurel District? They have a counter, booths, tables, potato-sack art, card-playing dog pictures, and a menu that calls me to mind of my favorite other-side-of-the-bridge breakfast place, Just for You. Cornmeal pancakes, a "hangtown fry" frittata with oysters and bacon, some different kinds of homemade sausages, grits, and so on. Soups, salads, and sandwiches for lunch, and then that's it. They close at 2:30. So first I ordered the red flannel hash, which Bernie had recommended. It's beet, bacon, potato, and onion hash with poached eggs and toast for $8.25. Sounds delicious. And Bernie got corned beef hash ($8.75) and a cornmeal waffle ($4) for us to split. I don't generally eat eggs in restaurants, being the chicken farmer, but that wasn't exactly why I jumped up and chased down the waitressperson to change my order almost as soon as I'd placed it. As I was handing over the menu, almost in slow motion, I saw something on there which registered with me, two ticks later, like the smell of your lover's sweat. It was biscuits and gravy with smoked chicken for $4.75. I could have that, and my very own waffle, for only 50 cents more than the beet and bacon hash! Then go home and eat eggs for lunch, as always. Look, I have no doubt that the red flannel hash would of floated my boat too. Everything was delicious, even Bernie's corned beef, and corned beef is generally one of my least favorite beeves. But by doing what I did, without even thinking about it (until later), I accidentally wound up having chicken and waffles. Did you notice? And the cornmeal waffles were delicious, with real maple syrup. And the biscuits were great, and the gravy, with a little salt and pepper. And the smoked chicken, which they smoke themselves.... So, like I said, I didn't even think about this. I just chowed down and drank up and we talked about tornadoes. Then I drove Bernie back home in my pickup truck and he invited me in for some Breema, by way of barter. Breema is a kind of stretchy pressure-point low-impact massage which Bernie is this close to being licensed to practice. So, meanwhile, he practices on his friends, like me. Lays me out and pushes here and pulls there, and this time he even gets my ears and eyes and head in on it. Ever had an ear massage? OK. So my brain's even a little more opened up now, after 6-10 cups of coffee and now this. I'm driving home, in a completely electrified state of relaxation, and it hits me whose birthday it is. Thomas Powell, nephew, godson. August 30, 1982-March 10, 2004. Favorite thing to eat: chicken and waffles. Don't brains rock?
The Full House. 3719 MacArthur (at Loma Vista), Oakl. (510) 482-2200. Tues.-Sun., 7:30 a.m.-2:30 p.m. Takeout available. Credit cards not accepted. No alcohol. Wheelchair accessible.
Dan Leone (cheapeatsguy@yahoo.com) is the author of Eat This, San Francisco (Sasquatch Books), a collection of Cheap Eats restaurant reviews, and The Meaning of Lunch (Mammoth Books).
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