When change comes to an old favorite the effect can be jarring, but ultimately more satisfying, because if you don't think Sarah Chalke was the hotter "Becky", you should be dis-Barr'd. For new vittles tarting up a long-running show, hit breakfast at Dots Cafe.
After nearly two decades, the Clinton Street eatery's finally beefing up their beloved menu, serving up a brand-new weekend roster of semi-south-of-the-border grub in a womblike murk of velvet matador paintings, black-light posters, elaborate swag lights, sad-eyed cats and other kitsch, though not Taylor because Panthers don't cry. Except Matt Saracen. All the time. Things start in-hand with a grilled-cheese sammy stuffed with two scrambled or over-easy eggs, mushrooms, spinach & jalapenos, then progress to theoretically hand-held burritos bursting with seasoned fries, black beans, choice of egg style, jack cheese, green chile, and spinach, before getting out of hand with Breakfast Fries: topped with bacon bits, cheddar cheese, green onions, and two eggs your call, they'd be called poutine if they came with gravy and a socialist cardiologist. Because you're a goddamn man, you can get three strips of bacon, an additional egg, or even a straight-up hamburger patty as a side -- and just like Boys on the..., you shouldn't let women see you enjoy it.
Awesomely, breakfast doesn't actually start until high noon, giving you plenty of time to get ready for new bar cures from the blueberry vodka/OJ "Blue Screw" to the lemonade vs. PBR "Pabst Palmer" -- like the disappearance of the first "Aunt Viv", it can leave a hole in one.