Grizzly Manor sounds like the name of a haunted mansion you heard about as a kid. “A witch lives there. She gave Hank’s dad the clap!” I really did hear that from a neighbor kid one summer. We were 8. None of us had a clue what that meant.
I still don’t.
Despite its misleading name, Grizzly Manor is not, in fact, a haunted mansion (that I know of), but a small roadside diner found in the heart of Big Bear in California. And, hot damn, it serves up excellent foodstuffs, the kind of meal you wish you could keep stuffed in a pouch inside your intestines—it’s that good.
I think I’ve figured it out: When doctors and other academics proclaim breakfast to be the most important meal, they’re not talking about the health benefits; it’s because breakfast is phenomenally good, far better than that artisanal nonsense restaurants are peddling nowadays.
But be warned: If you’re averse to enormous portions, Grizzly Manor (not a haunted mansion) isn’t the place for you. If you’re a healthy adult who has no gag reflex and is comfortable shoving large portions down your throat, don’t hesitate. Go. Now.
That overstuffed feeling afterward should be considered an accomplishment, not a sign of your inability to recognize your body’s limits. I’ve been doing it for years, and although I have high cholesterol, I can still see my junk if I really suck my gut in.