We've eaten here before, and recently, but we need to make sure. We scan the menu quickly. "Nope, it ain't on here," and reach for the tall red plastic tumblers of iced tea.
The waitress wanders resignedly to our booth. "What you want?" My associate leans forward. "You got," he lowers his voice, "Loco Moco?" She looks around, then says, "We make for you."
We wait in silence. Around us, retirees of various ages and persuasions enjoy lunch, breakfast, or a midnight snack. Our plates arrive: mounds of fluffy white rice, topped with big flat hamburger patties, topped with fried eggs, all soaked in oniony brown gravy.
We dig in. Like Ol' Jeemy once said about the chicken-fried steak at Herb's, "It ain't real good, but oh my, ain't it good!"
531 West South Shore Center
Breakfast served all day.