Bertie Lou's

The front of the laminated menu declares that Bertie Lou’s has been serving “Portland’s favorite mediocre breakfast since 1943.” Mediocre? Talk about selling yourself short. There’s a reason they’re in their 67th year of business. The space is tiny, with one section featuring an open griddle and a handful of barstools and the other, a cozy room with hardwood floors holding no more than six tables. The warm, intimate space is a perfect refuge on a grey Portland morning.

In general, it’s tough for a restaurant to create a “down home” feel without it seeming contrived or tacky to its customers. But at Bertie’s the homey feel feels nothing but genuine. I can’t imagine how many regulars they have after over half a century of existence. On the window sill next to our table sits a giant coffee mug-shaped bowl brimming with post cards from all around the world addressed to Bertie Lou’s from loyal customers on exotic travels. I pick up a glitter-crusted one shaped in the letters NY, but feel too nosey reading the greeting. The four walls are plastered with a farrago of random images—vintage ads, old photos of what appears to be Portland, and a painting of a giant moose hovers omnipotently above Eddie’s head. The exterior of the building is bright orangey-yellow, lighting up the entire block. Inside, the back dining space one wall is painted pale yellow, the other sky blue. A few faux chandeliers and mirrors add an endearing elegance to the already charming nook.The clientele base is mostly 20-something hipsters seeking reasonably priced food. But there are exceptions—a woman and her mother eat together at the table next to us, the mother protesting comically as her daughter foists too large of a portion of her omelet onto her plate. A group of three SE old-timers inhabit stools that show wear of many seats before that, forming imprints of loyalty. They glare comically as I take their photo. A man with a white puffy beard grapples with the morning paper as his order is taken to the cook.

Poring over the menu, I remember one of the guys I worked on the farm with had raved to me about the croissant French toast at Bertie’s when I’d told him I was thinking about going. I had to take his suggestion, and ordered that and a cup of coffee.
“And do you want that with fresh fruit?” The waitress asked, catching me by surprise.
“Uh, no…that’s okay” I reply. Wait, how could I pass that up?
“Wait, actually” I called back, “can I have the fresh fruit?”

Eddie, my partner in crime, ordered a Belgian waffle that came with bacon and eggs too.

My croissant French toast arrived quickly—topped with fresh blueberries, strawberries, and bananas. The toast was steaming and melted in my mouth, and with the extra touch of the fruit it was really something special. Eddie’s waffle was tasty though not quite the godsend my French toast was. Midway through our meal, a man sitting close to us (perhaps under the impression I was a journalist since I was taking pictures), proclaims to his friends “this is my favorite breakfast place in all of Portland.” He speaks at a deliberately high volume, and checks to make sure I heard him. Then he says something I can’t hear about them usually playing oldies music.

But I’m with that guy. I’ve been to a handful of SE diners now (a week later), but Bertie Lou’s is a gem. If you are seeking one special spot in SE, head to Bertie’s.

With a total capacity for no more than 30 people, the place is packed on weekends. But on a quiet Wednesday morning, Bertie Lou’s is the perfect breakfast spot.