Respect Your Mama's

When Franklin and I arrived one Saturday morning, both dining rooms were full — the sunny front room and the windowless smoking section west of the kitchen. I did see society decorator Scott Lindsay near the front door, but he had been a Nichols regular for years. Walking toward the more raucous and fun smoking section, I spotted an old friend who grabbed me and, snubbing out his cigarette, whispered: "This joint has so many fairies and bears in it, I thought I was in Disneyland."

Mama's is a wonderland, all right, at least for breakfast devotees. Among the 66 omelets are combinations that sound nausea-inducing to me (peanut butter, jelly and banana; hot dog, onion and American cheese), but I have simple tastes when it comes to breakfast. That's why I surprised myself by ordering the "Rolled Oink," a couple of fat, mildly spicy sausage links each rolled up in an unfluffy buttermilk pancake. It's a novelty I'll not order again. The basic breakfasts are safer bets — for me, anyway. Franklin loved his "Country Benedict," a ham-and-egg-topped English muffin slathered with sausage gravy and crunchy deep-fried potatoes (called "country browns" here).

I was relieved to see the veteran waitress Micky, a tall Nichols Lunch institution, back on the floor and juggling heavy platters as if they were powder puffs. The new venue also preserves some of the old Mama's eccentricities, such as mismatched coffee cups. I sipped java from a "Joy to the World" Christmas mug, and Franklin's had a cartoon character on it. The place at least has a sense of humor, which is something Nichols never had — unless one was roaring drunk at 3 a.m.

For that, and for cleaning the old place up, I'll give Imber and Auerbach the medal their fans say they deserve.