BREAKFAST RULES.

I love breakfast. Not only is it the most important, but it's the most delicious meal of the day. Despite rumors and misconceptions, I really do like mornings. And by that, really, I mean I like the morning on my own terms. If I'm told to wake up at 7:00 AM, fuck no, I hate you and the morning. You can go die for all I care. If I wanna wake up at 7:00 AM, I love the crisp, clear air, the shining, energizing sun and the breakfast buffet of all things hearty and healthy.

Well, sorta.

It's hard to justify why eating greasy crud after waking up can be a good thing, but that's neither here nor there. Why do people eat biscuits and gravy (Goddamn gravy!) in the morning? I'm really not sure, but I'll lend my intellect for the cause: the protein. It's great protein, what with all those eggs and meats and what-have-you. And yes, this is my main, go-to stock answer to eating badly. Why am I shoving BBQ brisket into my mouth like it's the key to eternal youth? Why am I beating a four pound burger and fries into my face like it owes me money? FOR THE PROTEIN.

So.

Have you heard of Harlow's Cafe in Tempe, AZ? I have. Ever since hearing of Harlow's Cafe in Tempe, AZ I've been craving it, wanting it...being an exclusive, breakfast only diner, I knew I had to go. Now I just had to make sure I was up, showered and human looking before noon. Well, 2:00PM. Let's not split hairs here.

So I made the trek over to Harlow's, hell-bent on getting my fix. C'mon, I know you're intrigued! Read on, baby birds, I'll feed ya.

The place itself is kind of like a mixture between an old, 70's diner and a woodsy lodge, or like a backroom to an even better restaurant. It's covered in photos of ancient celebrities, giving it a Hollywood/cinema type theme, with extra, random-yet-fun shit thrown in for spice.

The place reminds me of the diner in Twin Peaks. At least that's what I'm pretending it reminds me of. It's something I've been wanting since I've seen Twin Peaks, so if I can eat pie and drink coffee in the most Agent Cooper way imaginable, I will be a happy man. 'Cause I like coffee and pie, too. Oh, and Twin Peaks! I like Twin Peaks. Did I mention that already?

I really kinda wish I snapped more photos, but it's always hard to try to make it look like you're not taking pictures, while taking pictures. If I'm outright with it, I can maybe come across as someone of importance, someone who's just dripping with bravado and confidence. If not, I look like an asshole taking creepy, unwanted shots of the guy in the back booth eating bacon. Hey, in my defense, it would have been a really cool photo. The dude had a killer mustache.

I ended up with a plate full of chorizo. I'm slowly gettin into the Mexican-styled breakfasts these days, probably since it's so easily accessible over here in Arizona, and so veryvery filling. Maybe I'm just burnt out on waffles and pancakes, ya never know. But it came with a nice helping of warm tortillas, further proving my ignorance when near the end of the meal, I realized they even existed, tucked away in bundle of tin foil.

I was never totally sure what "chorizo" was, but over time, I've come to realize that it's delicious. Turns out it's meat. Spicy meat. Or something. You expect me to know what I put into my body? Fah!

Overall, me like.

Oh! The coffee! How can I not mention the coffee? Well, it was good. Enjoyable, actually. But to be honest, I've never been too picky of a coffee drinker. Truck stop brew is good, local gas stations aren't always the best (but acceptable) and Dunkin Donuts is liquid gold. I'll even say that I like Denny's and IHOP's coffee, but I'm thinking that I can absolutely like any coffee that comes in an off-white mug. It somehow fools me into thinking it's a delicious, unstoppable force that keeps getting filled despite by upset stomach and sweaty face. I need it, I crave it, I AM COFFEE.

You'd think, after tasting and experiencing fine, Italian coffee, while in Italy, I'd mature my tastes into a more sophisticated, adult palate...but no. I sucks.

Also, the wait staff is hot. They seriously must hire only attractive women to run the joint. This is a bit disconcerning, yet simultaneously applaudible. I'm at a moral crossroads here. Really, I am.

I give Harlow's a sexy, sexy B++.