The Dish serves an old-fashioned American breakfast. It’s perfect on a weekend morning, whether you’re up early or you’ve slept in and want to soak up the booze in your blood stream with some biscuits and gravy. Unfortunately, everyone knows this, so you will wait and wait on weekends.

But how long do you really want to stand around, looking at a particularly depressing stretch of Leary Way, just to get an omelette or corned beef hash? The food is pretty good and filling, but if Seattle had a large supply of diners, no one would put up with the line and harried, borderline-rude service here. In fact, public opinion of The Dish has seemed to slip dramatically in the past five years as more places around town have started offering brunch.

But we don’t have many diners, and this is as good a place as any to get a scramble. The space is small, loud, busy, and aromatic. The hot sauce collection is neat, and not just for show—definitely ask for a few bottles to sample. It kind of reminds us of a Northwest version of the cafe in Back to the Future where Marty McFly first runs into Young Biff. Or maybe the stuck-in-time feeling comes from the cash register—checks accepted but no credit cards.