Now it's merely good. The sauce is still generously glopped on. Once garnish-free, it is now topped by lots of chopped parsley. The eggs are properly poached. The Canadian bacon is well grilled and juicy, and the English muffins sliced but decently toasted.
Home fries comprise large chunks of potato with their skins still on, bland but comforting.
Mimosas are available, but it's called the Park Slope Brewing Company for a reason. You used to be able to see the tanks downstairs, through a glass window. Since late 1997 the beer has been brewed at a Red Hook plant. The downstairs area is now hosts more tables, a pinball game, a dartboard, and a pool table, all desolate, unused, and clean. Service on my last visit was evenly divided between a fortyish waiter, an early-teens bespectacled busperson who was probably her son, and the twentyish bartender, all of whom were eager to whisk away my plate while I was slowly eating, yet none very interested in bringing me my check or change after I'd asked for the former.