I didn't come here expecting much. We had just finished a grueling one-day hike to Mount Whitney and were just looking for a simple cafe. Being one of the only ones in town and close to our motel (after 22 miles of hiking, a few extra blocks feels too far), we figured we couldn't go wrong. The place is quaint and alongside a "cowboys and Indians" retail store. The menu was typical diner food with low prices, so it seemed fine.
Our waitress generally seemed confused. She didn't know simple things like what cold cereals they served. She looked it up, but her perplexing response was "Kellog's" followed by "not the sugary one" after we asked what kind of Kellog's. The French toast listed a sourdough option for an unspecified additional cost. Thinking this could be better bread, I decided to trade up. My friend got the normal for comparison sake.
My French toast reminded me of those Amelia Bedelia books where the bumbling main character takes everything literally, and hilariousness ensues. In this case, Amelia thought French toast should just be toast. The same thin sourdough you get on the side at most diners was used and seemingly toasted first, since I wouldn't expect a skillet could make such a burned mess. There was little egg batter flavor, not slight vanilla sweetness, or really anything other than the syrup to make you feel like you were eating anything other than stale diner sourdough toast. It was generally overtoasted and a hiker's appetite was the only way I slogged through it. My friend's was just the slightest bit better and with thicker softer white bread. But still, bottom 10% of French toast experiences.
My friend's got egg dishes which they thought were OK, but when I tried one of their home fries, it tasted like burnt vegetable oil. I guess technically they should, but that's how I'd still describe their lack of appeal.
All four meals came with a small uncut red apple. While it seemed odd enough, they were also really terrible apples. My friend thought they might be tasty but I suggested they would taste like comeupence, as in the comeupence you get when you steal and eat a neighbor's apple off the tree before its even ripe. Turns out I was on the money. They were bitter, tasteless, far from juicy, and entirely unripe. One bite was all I could handle.
While you may not have many options in Lone Pine, if you find one, you're better off taking your chances. read more