Though shrouded in the same 1970s oak boom as its Golden Apple and Nugget competitors, this fellow greasy spoon does make like its name and soaks up plenty of rays on a wide tri-corner in Avondale, especially because it's only open until 3 p.m.

Devoid of class, Sunshine is a no-nonsense, generic brand can of wax beans – both enticing and off-putting at the same time; a long, single-service bar and row of four-top booths, stocked with a handful of senior early birds, or bleary-eyed drunken birds, who don't care if their steak and eggs come backed with a description or not.

Yet it's not filthy, and some waitress quick-charm – "Anything for you, hun; You guys are keepers" – thrown on the side of chain-portioned breakfast specials under $5 give the place some color. And there isn't an item on the menu, charbroiled chops and steaks included, that pushes $10.

Centerstage Reviewer: Gavin Paul