david schrott is everywhere

2014

Posted in Fine Living Lancaster, Personal Work by thebreakfastdictator on 02/23/2015

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Kansas City, Your Food is Huge

Posted in daily life by thebreakfastdictator on 10/06/2014

It is one of those autumnal mornings. You know, those morningsThe ones where the clouds roll in, drizzle fades on and off. It’s too warm for a jacket but also, not. The AC is still on most places. The windows fog. Steam swirls from the fresh-poured coffee mug. Caffeine excites the nerves. Never let this morning end. Drink more coffee. It’ll prolong the glory of the morning hours.

City Diner; KCMO

City Diner; KCMO

“We should eat. Find a place, please. I won’t be particular.”

“I found a place. It looks glorious.”

“Perfect. Directions, please?”

The sign on the door reads: We Reserve the Right to Refuse Service to Anyone. Perfect. This is exactly the place.

The barstools are black and the countertop checkered. A man in a fedora and jacket sits by the window fiddling on his phone and drinking coffee. The waitress says he’s been there all morning. A regular? No. Waiting for the Megabus. I wonder where he’s headed and where he came from. He’s got a big smile and a happy countenance; the antithesis of the Northeast.

People here are lovely.

Scrawled all over the white-board walls are names. Hundreds of them, for sure. They’re all names of people who’ve devoured two pancakes. Two, you say? Yeah, just two. But good luck. These babies are 14″ across and an inch deep. Fit that in your belly. One lady ate six. That’s right. Six.

Can you eat six of these? Some lady did, once.

Can you eat six of these? Some lady did, once.

We got chocolate chips in ours. The two of us couldn’t eat one if we tried.

The bacon is thick. Like a piece of ham, almost. The rye bread tastes like rye bread and the omelets leak gooey American cheese. An abundance of Cholula hot-sauce sits on the side. There is never enough hot-sauce. Never.

Two midwestern sweethearts serve us. They can tell we’re from out of town and they shoot the breeze with us. It’s been an hour, at least, since we got here and they’re in no rush for us to leave. We shyly ask if we can take a photo of them, and two rolls of film and an hour later, we think we’re content. We tip almost 100%. Waitresses who are good sports deserve a raise.

Closing time is at two p.m. The servers clean up the table tops and we our camera gear. We are full, but not bloated. Satisfied.

We heard a lot of good things about Kansas City. There’s a giant shuttlecock on a lawn somewhere? A coffeeshop that’s more elitist than anywhere back home? Let us galavant. The grey autumn skies wouldn’t want anything less.