'Mike's Puck'

By kiki

Connie and I were by ourselves this past weekend. Hence, we decided to get out of the house for a while - Some of the Baltazar clan were partying in Mexico over the weekend - We took her car to the carwash, and after that, we were thinking of a place to have breakfast, one that we had never been to. I then remembered a place, 'Mike's Puck' (like in hockey), that my late friend Bobby Padilla had invited me to; we never did get together; he died before we could. So I asked Connie if she would like to go to East L.A. for breakfast, "Only if you drive nice," I told her I would drive the way she has always wanted me to, nice and easy. 

We left La Puente on the 60 Freeway, and soon we were behind a slow-moving pickup; I hit the gas and went around the truck. "Hey, you said you were going to drive nice!" she yells at me. "Ah, baby, I needed to get around that slow-moving a-hole," I replied to her. "Then every driver on the freeway is an a-hole. They are not driving crazy like you" I didn't respond to her; I just decided to let her have the last word because I'll never win. So she rode the rest of the way with her eyes close.

We got off the 60 on Soto, made a left turn, and went south to Washington Blvd. On the northwest corner sits this small gem of an eatery. Having never been there before, we didn't know what to expect, but we were surprised. The parking lot was packed, so the food had to be good. We walked in, and the first thing I saw was that you had to order on a counter 'shit, another damn Mario's Tacos, ' I thought; paper plates, Styrofoam coffee cups, plastic forks, and knives were flashing in front of my eyes. Still, I told Connie we might as well order; besides, we were hungry since we were there! So Connie ordered the ham and eggs plate, I the bacon and eggs plate, and we both ordered coffee with our breakfast. To my surprise, I was given two real coffee cups. "Coffee is to your right; serve yourself," I was told by a nice-looking young honey. 

After getting our coffee, we found a table in the small eatery. We sat and drank our coffee while waiting to be called to pick up our breakfasts at the counter, but to our surprise, a lovely lady brought our plates (real plates) to our table. The food was delicious; Connie's ham was huge. The five strips of bacon were outstanding, and the huevos cooked just the way we ordered them; they sure didn't look like the ones at Mario Tacos. There were no paper plates, Styrofoam coffee cups, or plastic forks/knives here.

Mike

The owner of this tiny gem is Mike, a guy I have known for years though we hadn't seen each other for around 30 years. The first thing Mike told me when he saw me was, "The last time I saw you, your hair was all black" Mike was in the boxing business as a manager. I remember that back in the '70s and '80s, he would invite me to his place, but I just needed to get around to going. Mike has been in this location for 53 years. He must be doing something right!