Counter Café is a long, skinny restaurant on the northwest corner of S. Lamar and 6th street. The interior is dark and cramped. The breakfast counter, where customers eat and watch the short-order cooks cook, take up most of the room and leaves only a narrow walking space between the bar stools and the row of two-tops hugging the west wall. It has a small staff, too small to accommodate the large volume of customers. While the food is above average, the service is slow and sub-par. After requesting a biscuit after we’d already given our order, (I forgot I needed a carb-sponge to soak up the egg yolk), she asked me if there was “possibly anything else I could want.” This is a common question in the hospitality industry. However, the question conveyed annoyance instead of a desire to please. Couldn’t I see that she was too busy to fetch forgotten food requests? This is true. She was busy. Regardless, as a waitress, it’s her job to wait on me. It’s not her job to teach me the polite way of ordering. She made me feel so bad that I poured my own coffee refill instead of troubling her for one.
The blueberry pancakes are the only reason I would come back. Fluffy and riddled with ripe fruit--they forced me to overeat. (Shocking, I know). My brunch companion was very disappointed with her Counter Eggs Benedict because the yolks were completely done. They looked like slimy marbles sitting on top of a biscuit. Blech.
The next time I crave blueberry pancakes, I’ll order from Counter Café, but I’ll get them to go.
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