I had my first Wilson's breakfast when I was about three years old. Twenty-odd years later, I still find myself ambling in most Saturday mornings, and it still brings much of the same joy I remember from childhood. You walk into a place that feels like something out of a museum, and then someone puts a heaping pile of eggs and potatoes in front of you. What could possibly be better?

When I first started going, it was the late 1990s and Arthur was the man behind the grill. He was a gregarious Greek man who called everyone "big boy" and always had a lollipop waiting for you at the end of your meal. He also launched a short-lived campaign to make the menu healthier, leading to one of the funniest signs I've ever seen in a restaurant, which simply read "SPINACH NOW AVAILABLE" (it didn't last). As far as I'm concerned, no one can ever replicate the atmosphere he cultivated, but the new ownership has done a good job of retaining nearly everything else. The two egg special still tastes exactly the same as it did in 2000 (honestly, it probably tastes the same as it did in 1950), the pancakes are fluffy and massive, and the coffee flows freely. It is as classic a train car diner as you'll ever find. If you're a fan of greasy spoons and/or David Lynch movies, look no further than Wilson's Diner.