After a really reasonable visit to the Newhall DMV to have a new driver’s license photo and my thumbprint taken, I needed some midday breakfast. Other places were mobbed. Maybe that should have made me wary of The Saugus Cafe, but I was up for some diner grub.
I’d heard (and repeated) that this was the last place James Dean ate before he died, but according to the Santa Clarita Historical Society, that honor went to Tip’s in Castaic. Still, it’s a historic eatery, and may be the oldest in Los Angeles County, having opened in 1886. (Beating out Acton’s 49er Bar & Grill by 3 years.) There’s a really nice write up of the place on the blog Red Letter Days.
You can see that this is my kind of place! And I was really happy that the busboy speedily cleared off a booth for little old me all by myself. I had plenty of room to read the two newspapers that were delivered to my house this morning. I was really hungry, as it was almost noon and I’d missed breakfast, so I ordered two poached eggs, home fries and opted for biscuits and gravy rather than toast. Luckily, the biscuits were not very good and the gravy was awful–tasted mostly of smoke flavoring–so I didn’t eat them. But the eggs were done right, the potatoes were real and the coffee kept coming.
I adore all night diners. I didn’t realize this one is open all night. Sigh. Eavesdropping on the guys at the counter was easy and worth the price of admission.
We’re in the market for some new dining room chairs because the old ones had rollers on them, and with the new laminate floor, we were forever rolling away from the table before we wanted to. Also our guests tended to roll into the the antique china cabinet, making little dings. No! We found out that CuzP was looking for roller chairs for her mom’s house and sent them happily on their way with her on Christmas Day.
We’ve been poking around furniture stores for the past week or so. Man, there are some ugly couches out there. I mean, does this monstrosity speak of a whole lifestyle or what? Looks like the starting place for the next 1,000 pound human to me. I wish now that I’d taken photos of some of the other horrible couches we saw, which just said that the owners have given up all pretense of doing anything in their living rooms other than watch TV and consume carbs and sugar.
Please tell me that if you buy this couch you have to take the creepy overall-wearing Santa with you.
Back at the homestead, I found that I had enough flour, sugar, butter, cinnamon, etc. on hand to start the cinnamon rolls that we’ll have for breakfast on New Years Day. I’ve been baking a lot over the past couple of months, and I’m getting more comfortable with it. It’s one of the final frontiers of cooking for me. I always found it intimidating.
The recipe came from my sister, who is famous for making these, and she kindly included my mom’s variation and her husband’s variation on them. I had a critical misunderstanding at one befloured place in the process and was lucky to get Pegerty on the phone. There’s some wiggle room in the amount of flour that is used. I always thought those things were pretty finite. But the dough rose and fell and rose again just as it was intended to, and every time I open the fridge I get a pleasant blast of yeasty goodness.
The second pan is in the freezer, waiting to be given as a gift later this week. If you think this means you, avert your eyes!