This morning marks the second day in a row I've had breakfast at the Landmark (Grand St. between Centre and Laff). I always liked this place, but the last 48 hours have completely re-affirmed my love for diners, and my faith that cheap, delicious food is still to be found in shabby, but endearing environments in Manhattan. I don't know where else you can get french toast, coffee or tea, and ham, bacon, or sausage for $5.25. Unheard of.

And its not just the food. Oh no. The wait staff comprises of 3 chinese (Cantonese speaking?) ladies, who, in the most stereotypical accent and sing-song voice I've ever heard in my life, shout your order to the kitchen, and then, once your food arrives, forget you exist. When you've lost all hope that your check will ever arrive, it does, and once you see the total, all is forgiven.

Today I had the particular pleasure of hearing an elderly french couple who spoke virtually no english, attempt to converse and convey their breakfast needs to the waitress. It was amazing. I think the only words they both understood were, "Oui oui oui oui oui." Thank god for the universal language of signing, pointing, and repetition. 2 boxes of special K and 2 mugs of tea later, another satisfied table, another amazing episode of what would be, a spectacular reality show.