A central stair leads to more widely spaced tables on a more private mezzanine, with framed photographs instead of windows. The kitchen is directly below the raised dining area, its entrance unobtrusive yet at the restaurant's center. I was greeted by the leather-jacketed hostess, who is six feet tall with a scrawny frame never closer than a table to a fattening dish of eggs Benedict. She stops sneering only when faced with other cute women, which I am not, but I had none of the legendary problems of getting in. Coffee was very hot - Thermos coffeepots may be ugly, but they are practical.
Water is served on request.
Quick to arrive was a basket of soft, crusty bread which, though was tainted with raisins, was served with a whipped, sweet raspberry butter. The eggs Benedict took a long time to arrive, yet when it did the poached eggs were hot and perfectly cooked. The hollandaise was almost too buttery but was very good. The Canadian bacon was lightly grilled, depriving it of a little flavor but making it unusually juicy. English muffins were lightly toasted.