Judy’s Cafe

by janet on February 14th, 2010

I don’t like omelettes.  They are nothing but overpriced rubbery yellow frisbees bent over half-assedly seasoned shit inside.  When at breakfast joints, I either order omelettes as scrambles (and inevitably incite jealousy in my companions when they see their plates compared to mine) or I frequent creperies since there are more of those in SF than hipsters on fixed gears. (And yet I have still not used our “crepes” tag; only Daniel has.)

Then: Judy’s.  A speck of a joint on Chestnut that takes over the sidewalk in front of the drycleaner’s next door on the weekends. It’s so popular that even when you are just walking down the sidewalk past it, the greeter automatically asks for your name, thinking you are OBV wanting to eat there.

The first time I went, as soon as we were seated someone walking past shouted “OHHHHH!  Pumpkin looooaaaf!” at us.  I assumed that meant they were good, so we ordered it as our side (that automatically comes with).  The loaf, indeedy, was divine.  Slight crunch on the outside, moist and spicy on the inside.

I’m getting ahead of myself.  We (meaning me and Lex, the fag to my hag) were seated next to two homosexual females who MAY have been a tad bit butch-ey.  Lex kept making sassy/hilarious (sassilarious?) jokes re: their intense manliness, and I felt exactly like Harold in that scene where they are in the truck with Freakshow and Kumar is yapping to Harold about Freakshow’s erupting zits and Harold is like, “HE… CAN… HEAR… YOU.”  I kept making awkward smiles towards them, and said “Mmmm, your omelette looks good!” in a wobbly voice when our eyes met.

But it DID look good.  So I ordered it.  Spinach & mushroom omelette, and don’t you ever order anything else from there (no, don’t even be tempted by the one with bacon and avocado).  Because this. omelette. was. the. bomb.

You can see it – no fold; just a dome covering a huge mess of perfectly wilted spinach, firmly seasoned mushrooms, and two kinds of oozy-creamy cheese (see top for the perfect bite; above for the dome-esqueness).  Like our own ozone layer, the egg was so very fluffy and fragile – the way I imagine it done by chefs when they are auditioning to work for Daniel Boulud.

This, in walking distance from my home!  Home to home-cooked omelette with homo in three minutes.  Awesome.

Judy’s Cafe
2268 Chestnut St.
San Francisco, CA 94123

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