I saw this place late one morning in rural Brookville, PA.  I’d not had breakfast yet because I was hoping to see an inviting place along my meandering drive to Punxsutawney to see my friend Phil.

This seemed to be a good place to stop.  An inviting name, to be sure.  The building was obviously newish, but it was very apparent to me that there had been a gas station on the site in the past.  A quick look at the little planting in the front of the door gave that away.  That used to be the pump island.

I entered, visions of eggs and bacon and toast dancing in my head.  There were three people in there:  the waitress and a couple old fellows catching each other up on the latest gossip.  I looked at the menu.  There it was, in bold letters that looked like they’d been created on a typewriter, not a word processor: “Two eggs any way, with bacon or sausage and toast and potatoes–$4.75”

I told the waitress that’s what I wanted.

“This is the wrong cook day,” she said. “We’re doing lunch now.”

Turns out there are some days when breakfast hours overlap greatly with lunch hours.

But those days happen when a different cook works.

The cook on duty the day I dropped by has built a border wall between breakfast and lunch.  And there is no crossing it.

So I had a sausage sandwich on flatbread.  With cole slaw.

And yes, there used to be a gas station there.  It burned down long ago.  They had a photo of it hanging on the wall inside.