"Today's episode of #roadfill comes from the neighborhood Food Cyndia 's in Totowa, New Jersey I was on the market for the most important meal of the day, and Cyndia 's saw the kind of place that would do the breakfast right as they were only open for breakfast and lunch. When I wanted to get in, I noticed a sign in the window that they hired bus drivers. This can often be a good sign that the business is booming, or then again it could mean that there is a lot of sales. I was immediately greeted by a young man standing behind the checkout. He noticed my Rush T-shirt and complicated me on my fashion choice. Good start. I offered myself my choice where I sit in decent size and very clean restaurant. There were comfortable looking stands and warm forests while I took one of the wood stools engraved with 'Drink Coca Cola' above that a long wooden counter. A wood surface was probably a savvy design decision to make sure that you do not welcome your. Classic and 80s rock played over the speakers to keep me company while I went through the menu. A woman behind the counter welcomed me also cheerful, the kind of welcome you really felt welcome. She was glad to give me a hot and tasty cuppa. It was then that I noticed Cyndia's vision statement in bold letters on the wall: Where neighbors become friends and friends family . Well, I didn't live in the neighborhood, but maybe they thought that I was because I was definitely in the group "Friends". Not sure if I'm the 'family' group in which we're holding the little groll and doing things to bother each other like your typical 'family' member. The menu had all the clips and a surprising number of fried egg shells. I've never been a supporter of illegal egg hunting, so I've never ordered one. My eye went on. I chose the Pepper Jack breakfast, consisting of scrambled eggs, green peppers and onions with pepper Jack cheese in a panini When I enjoyed my beer while waiting for my meal, I noticed that there are cartridges coming to order. I wondered what the appeal was, and my server told me it was freshly squeezed. I thought. Not earlier I began to contemplate getting one, she returned with a small glass of juice to try 'on the house'. Release must lead to my server probably being 'Cyndia' itself. No one arbitrarily dispenses with freshly pressed ABI. I had a sip and it lived until the hype. Enough to make me order a complete glass. Shrewd... As I have enjoyed my O, a young worker has linked with one of the worst cases of bedhead I have seen since my college days. Glancing at the clock on the wall, it read 26 minutes after the hour. The eyes of my server were immediately locked to his dagger. Your Irishman with his late arrival was more than a little obvious. Without saying a word, he slowly went to the back room. It wasn't immediately clear whether he was really awake or sleepwalked. I guess the sign I saw in the window could have been for him. That was the last thing I saw from my server when she moved back to the kitchen to help with food preparation for the growing amount of breakfast. Another woman, older and weeping in stature, took over and refilled my cuppa during my panini. The meal was tasty and filled; a perfect size to start the day and not too hard. Bed Head Boy would eventually assume the duty behind the counter in his somewhat zombie-like condition. Because he probably little, if at all, time in the bathroom ready to be in front of the public, I was worried about his hands. They looked clean from a distance, but worried me enough to avoid a further refill of the delicious coffee. I had enough anyway, and together with the ABI, I could have got the door out. Total tax: $16.57. Bett Head Boy aside, Cyndia 's was worthy of two forks!"
