There’s something about American diners: burnt coffee in a clunky mug and those little creamers where you peel the plastic off the top. They’re inviting yet unassuming, something of a civic religion to the elderly, nostalgic for a time when people still flipped through print newspapers at their tables and dusted ashes into saucers.
I often ate at a diner with my family in the small town where I grew up: Tehachapi, nestled between the Central Valley and the Mojave Desert, where horses outnumbered people and the only fun thing to do was go to the local country club pool. In town, the diner I loved was Kelcy’s, and at seven, I would hurry my dad inside for chocolate chip pancakes and fresh-squeezed orange juice.
Night & Day Cafe, on Orange Avenue fits squarely in this genre — but, like many restaurants in Southern California, it is as Mexican as it is American. The restaurant has been open since 1927, originally as D and D Café, and in 1954 it became Night & Day Cafe because it ran 24/7. Today, it remains open until 1 a.m. on Fridays and 2 a.m. on Saturdays. Since 1996, ownership has passed through several members of the Esquer family.
When I sat down, the server, Cassandra, had a smile pasted on her face, bantering with customers, refilling coffees before you could see the bottom of your mug and happily telling me about the restaurant. She said each owner has added a unique touch, but the mom-and-pop atmosphere has been kept alive, and the original decor preserved.
Sitting at the counter, I immediately felt invited. Not one, but two people started a conversation with me — maybe because I was taking photos, or maybe because they were born before 1960 and were not glued to their phones — but either way, it made me miss a time when folks at countertops exchanged small talk. “I’ve been coming here for 15 years and haven’t had one bad meal,” a regular told me.
The open griddle caught my eye immediately, composed of “low stools and a 100-year-old flat-top grill, along with the 125-year-old iron hood that was salvaged from an old ship,” according to the restaurant’s website. I was enamored with the way the chef fried eggs alongside bell peppers and tortillas. He kept rhythmic tempo, feeding a full counter and a few stragglers at the outside tables.
I watched him make my machaca, a dish originally from northern Mexico made of shredded carne seca — dried, salted beef with a semi-spicy rub — coaxed into scrambled eggs with green bell peppers, onions and tomatoes, usually paired with beans, rice and corn tortillas. I became obsessed with this dish after having it for the first time in October, when I visited Doña Estrella in the Valle de Guadalupe — but that restaurant has a Michelin star for its machaca, so my standard was high.
When I bit into it, I was reminded of that experience in the Valle: salty beef, crunchy peppers, fluffy eggs, fresh salsa, earthy tortillas. The meat spoke the loudest: smoky, savory, and addictive. They offered green and red salsa to add spice — mellow roasted peppers with a tiny kick, which I didn’t mind on a slow Wednesday morning. Overall, I was happy to pay for something I probably couldn’t make at home the way I could eggs and bacon.
I dabbled in the beans and rice — beans silky, rice plump, giving the juices somewhere to settle and make the dish last. The cabbage and dressing were the most boring part and not especially fresh. I wished for more crispness to balance the smokiness of the rest of the plate, but even so, I left satisfied. I washed it down with my over-roasted coffee, which reminded me of Doña Estrella’s café de olla. I slightly wished I were sipping one, but perhaps they opted out because they’d have to fully commit to the Mexican identity and this place was very much both Mexican and American.
I carried on with my meal, getting fuller and more satisfied by the second, watching as the people began to pour in and fill the sidewalk tables, even on a weekday.
That is until I saw the French toast come out. The man next to me, the one bantering with the server, ordered it. And even after I was slumped over from my machaca, I began to drool. I asked if Cassandra could slip me one slice to try instead of a whole order, and she smirked and said, “of course” as if it’s something to be expected. I think you may know from my previous reviews that I always get dessert.
The French toast was warm and golden on the outside, fluffy and custardy on the inside, butter melting into the syrup like silk. I took a full bite, and everything glided together on my tongue.
Night & Day Cafe is located 847 Orange Ave, Coronado, CA 92118. It is open on Sunday 7 a.m.-10 p.m., Monday 7am a.m.-8 p.m., Tuesday through Wednesday 6:30 a.m.-10 p.m., Friday 6:30 a.m.-1 a.m. and Saturday 7 a.m.-2 a.m.
