Fat Albert's

A clever sandwich board outside of Fat Albert’s reads “a waist is a terrible thing to mind.” In a sense, the sign sums up the personality of Fat Albert’s Breakfast Café on Milwaukee Street in Sellwood. Friendly, quirky, settling into its SE niche. The joint has been around for nine years, before being inhabited by Albert’s the space was filled by a barbershop.

When I ask why the name Fat Albert’s, our waitress chuckles, shrugs her shoulders, and squints one eye in an effort to recall.
“Hm, I don’t remember where that came from. It’s fun though, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, it’s great…” my dad and I agree. It sounded like she’d been around from the start.

The space is long and narrow, cement floors and ceilings revealing the overhead piping render the atmosphere airy, light, and open. Our waitress ushers us to a wooden table painted bright turquoise. Under the specials board by the door a toddler with curly cherub locks wheels a yellow truck from a toy basket around on the floor. A young family, a few couples, and individual “regulars” fill the joint. In fact, regulars abound during the time I’m there. One man gets up periodically and refills his own coffee cup, another pays at the counter, chatting with the waitress while shoving the last crusts of wheat toast into his mouth.
As our waitress hands us to our yellow menus, I glimpse a chef in the back rhythmically breaking dozens of eggs into a large container. The many yokes, packed tightly together, picked up the yellow of the menu, and matched its offerings too. Fat Albert’s menu is egg-centric, featuring omelets like “The Garbage Grinder” and “The Salad Eater.” But the menu is balanced, egg dishes complemented by classics like biscuits and gravy, breakfast burrito, pancakes, the works. I choose “The Old Fashioned”—a sort of sampler plate with eggs, sausage, “browns,” and a biscuit. My dad goes with the Salad Eater veggie omelet. At the bottom of the menu I notice a plea: “on busy days, no campers please!” I guess it’s a busy place on the weekends.Fat Albert’s takes pride in the provenance of its food. A note at the top of the menu calls attention to their use of real butter, fresh roasted signature blend by Schondecken coffee roasters, bread from Grand Central Bakery, and biscuits baked fresh each morning.
Our food arrives—my eggs are cooked perfectly, coupled with the meat and potatoes the plate forms an ideal savory breakfast. But what really seals the deal is the homemade biscuit. It’s light and fluffy, smothered with butter and raspberry jam. Dad sings Salad Eater praises too.

By the time we’re done eating it’s around 12 o’clock. Our waitress swings by to top-off my coffee then retreats to the back of the restaurant to nosh on her own plate of food. I figure noon is a slow time for business. Nothing’s changed on Milawaukee street as we emerge, satiated and content. Grey clouds shroud the sun, drizzle keeps the pavement slick. The only sunshine in sight is the smiling sun painted on the sign above the door of Fat Albert’s as we depart.