“Let’s go out for breakfast!” Who doesn’t love those five words? Instantly, they improve your day: you aren’t obligated to cook or even to open a cereal box; you get to shake up your mundane routine; and for one brief, shining hour, you can keep the workaday world at bay.
Some six months ago, it dawned on us that it had been ages—since February 2000, in fact—since this magazine had surveyed the Texas breakfast scene. No sooner had that realization sunk in than we knew it was time to do it again. So we assembled a task force of six staff and freelance writers and gave them their marching orders: go forth and eat your weight in waffles.
Ninety-three breakfasts later, they staggered back, having applied their critical acumen