Near the shores of Lake Ontario, in Sea Breeze, U.S.A.
The mini-golf course is snowed over, nearby Durand Eastman park is rather desolate, and the salty air has yet to blow warmly off the lake, but Sea Breeze, Irondequoit, still has the feel of a little resort town, albeit shuttered up for the winter.
The diner regulars sat in the tables around the counter-top, complaining about Democrats. The place was still quiet on a Friday morning. A little sign showed the blue plate specials of the day.
There it was. At the bottom of the menu page. Something unheard-of, inconceivable. To think about it too much is to go mad. If you’re lucky, your head will then explode. Otherwise, you’ll be in a permanent state of delirium, with only the thin, monotonous piping of an unseen flute to accompany your dizzying, maniacal “thoughts,” thoughts of:
Cap’n Crunch French Toast. That Horatio Hornblower homage; commander of the S.S. Guppy.; Horatio Magellan Crunch’s breakfast has got corn for crunch, oats for punch, and it stays crunchy, even in milk. This opportunity could not be passed up.
Bo asked the waitress what she would recommend as a savory option to balance out the cereal. She was right on point. The #4 breakfast special, or something, was eggs, meat, and french toast. She substituted the Captain Crunch variety for a small upcharge. Also, CLUTCH, real maple syrup. For a small upcharge.
Dave ordered the breakfast special that included two eggs, potatoes (shred, obvi.), and toast.
The Captain Crunch French Toast was a pleasant surprise. It was not overly-sweet. It was “adult sweet,” mature, and sweet/savory. The flavor was, if you will, complex and sophisticated. The texture was creamy and smooth. When top-tier, white-tie intelligencers must coax their prey into a false sense of security before poisoning (or incepting) them, but it’s too early for alcoholic drink, they take them to the Parkside Diner and order them the Captain Crunch French Toast. It appears from the above photo that I was not given an exorbitant amount of maple syrup. True. But it turns out I didn’t really need much. The crisp outer shell of the french toast prevented absorption, so only a small amount was called for, atop.
The Canadian bacon and eggs were the right choice. They balanced out the exotic with the familiar. 
Dave’s eggs, sunny side up, as per yooshz, were fantastic. They were prepared precisely to the point just before the yolk congeals, creating a thick yolk that still runs smoothly. Diner enthusiasts universally agree that fewer than 0.01% of diner cooks dare toe that line, yet the Parkside Diner is fearless with their eggs. The English muffins (pro-tip: always upgrade to English muffins. Or don’t. I’m not your mom) were good, but the expert butter distribution elevated them to greatness. The potatoes (spike on an oval!) looked cheesy, but were not. Conversely, they looked bereft of seasoning but the visual lack of spices betrayed their remarkable flavor. All for $3.99!
The whole tab was about $21 (mostly due to Bo’s endless upcharges). As we left the place, we noted that there was beer at the counter. So, there’s that.
The morning sun had risen over the yachting rope. It was going to be a beautiful day.
With 10 as a must-eat, this eating experience rates a solid, reliable 9.
Don’t Miss: The breakfast specials have the best bang for the buck!
Pro Tip: Call ahead for mini-golf hours!
Another Pro Tip: Seriously, always upgrade to the English muffin.
I was taken with this:
“Otherwise, you’ll be in a permanent state of delirium, with only the thin, monotonous piping of an unseen flute to accompany your dizzying, maniacal “thoughts,” thoughts of…”
“Of WHAT” I thought… And I read on…
3 minutes later I was fumbling for my keys seeking this very treat. Well played.
Great read too!