A Truly Enjoyable Fire In My Butt

I really know how to find them.

When I moved to Eastern Market, there was a Popeyes, a 711, Marty’s and a little place we liked to call Fire Butt. Fire Butt had musty windows and no real signs to clue pedestrians in on what they cooked. But they did spell out “breakfast” in those white stick-on letters. (Breakfast is served all day as well!)

I also happened to work in that neighborhood — same fucking street, to be honest — and my first day on the job I checked the place out, to the utter shock of my new coworkers (which if you haven’t figured it out yet, included BS, 80 and El). No one had yet to dare (or even want to) explore that tiny little eatery. But that day I discovered the best, cheap breakfast sandwich this side of my kitchen: A real egg, fried, covered with (swiss) cheese and served in a croissant. Along with a carton of their kinky fries, this combination eased hangovers for many a coworkers for years to come.

Soon though, E-Mark started to blow up. In a matter of 2 years, 8th Street, SE gained: Finn macCools, Belga Cafe, Ugly Mug and much more. It was pretty cool to watch the neighborhood grow, but also kinda of weird to watch some things close. Luckily, Fire Butt is still alive and serving fried grub and Rap Snacks (!) to plenty of happy/hungover customers.

But now I live in Mt. Pleasant (Columbia Heights) and there is a new dawn of restaurants — chain and original — ready to invade our tiny stretch of previously uninhabited land. Well, or land that housed only Mexican/El Salvadorian/Pupuseria restaurants. Who knows what will stay open, close or reproduce in my new ‘hood.

And, I still haven’t found anything to replace my Fire Butt in Mt. P/CoHi.

Building Columbia Heights: D.C. USA [Express]