3519 Walker Avenue
324-0144
The last time I ate at Brother Juniper’s was on my birthday when I was pregnant with Jiro (who is now almost 2). Warren and I dropped Satchel (who is now almost 4) off at school and then went for breakfast. We tried to do the same thing a few months ago, but found out that they were closed on Mondays.
“I can’t believe I forgot they were closed on Mondays,” I said through my tears. But something felt off. Unfortunately I didn’t think to investigate further.
A couple of weeks ago my brother told me that he and his new girlfriend had eaten breakfast there on a Sunday.
“A Sunday? I asked, shocked. “Are you sure?” I might have forgotten about Monday, but I knew they were closed on Sundays.
“I promise we ate breakfast there on a Sunday,” he assured me.
I immediately went to Warren and told him we had to take the monkeys there on Sunday. “Yes, Sunday,” I said.
Brother Junipers is kind of our “special place.” I took Warren there for the first time eight years ago. He had grits and eggs. I had one of the special potato dishes. We did the New York Times crossword puzzle in the Flyer. Then we went to my office on campus and decided to get married.
I had never taken either one of the monkeys to Brother Junipers, mainly due to my belief that they were closed on Sundays. And they were always crowded. And kind of slow.
“We better get there early and beat the rush,” I told Warren. Due to daylight savings, we didn’t actually get there until 10:30am, but luckily the rest of the city was running late too and we got a table right away. As I grabbed one of the child seats for Jiro, I noticed a big bucket of legos. Sweet.
The monkeys immediately set about constructing robots and spaceships and Warren and I perused the menus. “Wow, they’ve added a lot of stuff,” I said.
Apparently Rachel Ray had come through on one of her $40 a Day adventures and raved about the San Diegan omelet. I had never heard of the San Diegan omelet or the host of other yummy omelets that now graced the menu. I used to be a black bean breakfast burrito die-hard, but I couldn’t resist call of the Desperado.
Warren ordered the Off the Border which was yummy sounding and had chorizo in it and we got a #1 (Two eggs, grits or potatoes, and toast or a biscuit) for the monkeys to share.
The waitress took our order right away and brought the monkeys’ juice to the table in sippy cups. Sippy Cups! Never in all of my dining experience have I seen this. Why? It seems so obvious. Every restaurant should have sippy cups! They are much more effective than Styrofoam.
My little moment of Zen was interrupted by Satchel shrieking, “I don’t want a sippy cup! I’m a big boy!” We told him to get over it, and pointed out that he was the number one spill perpetrator in our household.
Our food arrived in record time and we were all extremely pleased with what we ordered. Satchel scarfed down his eggs in record speed and the potatoes were the next to go. I gave Jiro the cheese grits that came with my omelet and he couldn’t have been happier. Neither one of them seemed interested in the raisin toast, but it didn’t matter because they had a ton of food.
My Desperado omelet was the most delicious thing I’ve ever eaten. The egg was served flat and round almost like a tortilla and was piled sky high with fresh avocado, black beans, cheese, tomatoes, and sour cream. Yum.
Warren ate his omelet before I could see what else was actually in it.
The boys ate steadily for at least thirty minutes—long enough for Warren to drink his entire cup of coffee and lament not bringing the newspaper. Satchel did manage to spill Warren’s water at one point, but it was quickly cleaned up and all was right in the world.
By the time we left, the restaurant was pretty crowded, but due to the quick service, things seemed to be moving pretty quickly.
I can hardly wait to go back.
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