Breakfast Men

Four of them came through the door with John Deere and Big Cat embroidered on their ball caps. Others with similar headgear and flannel shirts were already seated, drinking hot cups of Joe and eating heaping portions of bacon, eggs, and toast.

Though they are harder to find than they used to be, these cafes can still be seen spread out across America's west. The men who frequent these spots are on their way to work, and that they ease into their day with coffee and eggs, idle chatter, and spunky waitresses. The men almost always have a weathered look from years of working hard, physical, outdoor jobs.

In the old days after breakfast, the guys smoked unfiltered cigarettes and spoke in low tones about jobs and bosses.  The topic of machinery came up, as did upcoming weekend hunting and fishing trips. The cafes had a rhythm to them that was similar from place to place.

I thought of these places I had seen today when I had breakfast in Pacifica Breeze in Del Mar. There were no men in Caterpillar hats, but some guys had straw on. Muffins and croissants had replaced bacon and eggs, and I saw one regular drinking a glass of prosecco. The young servers were polite and deferential, unlike the cafe women who were loud and confrontational.

There were quite a few dogs at Breeze, and I can't say I ever saw a dog in a Western Cafe. If one of the heavy machinery guys had a dog with him, he left it in the rear of his pick up.

As I began my walk up the hill towards my house a mile and a half away, I thought about those cafes in Colorado, Montana, and New Mexico, and I swear I heard the sound of bacon crackling on a grill.