How does one describe the Right Spot? Well, there is no right way, I’m afraid.
The décor is straight out of 1972: the fading “Right Spot” sign stands burnished with time and wear, the mystifying and abundant display of plants by the front window includes an olive tree for $30 and the arbitrary display case by the front till contains things like Jesus icons, freshwater pearl necklaces, and packets of gum. Vines of plastic grapes are visible around the kitchen.
A complimentary newspaper article from your grandfather’s time graces the walls of this kooky place. And, to top it all off, there is a mustard yellow and puke green booster chair—probably made from the time when Flower Power was a popular ideal. I’m not sure if any child has ever sat in it, but it’s still sitting in a corner. And there you have it: Right Spot in two paragraphs.
Unless you live immediately nearby, you probably have no idea where it is—it’s a tiny, nondescript place, on the corner of Wellington and Brock. Upon entering, you’re greeted by an adorable old couple, who remind you vaguely of your own grandparents. The lady asks “any coffee for you, dear?” smiling pleasantly, as the man sets your table with a single napkin and cutlery. As they bring you water in cafeteria-sized miniature glasses, you can’t help but fall in love with this otherwise sketchy place.
It’s home to delicious BLTs, and for self-confessed bacon addicts, this can spur an all-encoming love for this restaurant. You can eat your breakfast and just keep on eating, because it’s just that good. Steal your friend’s French toast from your plate when she leaves the table for thirty seconds to go to the bathroom. It’s been done.
And the best part is that nothing on the breakfast menu is over $2.75. (But for home fries, you need to add $.85 extra: and I highly recommend you do, these potatoes are probably the best things on the menu.) Personalized requests are out of style in this out-of-style diner: you don’t even get a choice of getting your eggs done in a certain way. It’s all over-easy in the minds of Right Spot.
So what exactly must one love about this place? It’s hard to contain in words. I’m not sure if it’s logically sound. But somewhere between my morning fatigue and that age-old Virgin Mary staring at me from the counter, comfort can be found. There’s something to be said for the feeling of accidentally stumbling upon something at a specific restaurant that is precisely what you need at that moment.
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