Tick Tock Diner, Nevada Diner, Eagle Rock Diner — N.J.

Greek civilization seems to have peaked a while back, at least in terms of philosophy, science, and epic poetry, but that doesn't mean they don't honor the tradition of serving a killer breakfast in dozens of diners across the breadth of northern New Jersey. It's a heritage: In Plato's Symposium, there's a dialogue between Socrates and some yold named Agathon, clarifying the true nature of the feta-and-spinach omelet. Agathon finally yields to the logic behind the bagel on the side instead of toast, there being nothing to sop up.

"I can't find any way of withstanding you, Socrates," he says. "Let it be as you say."

"Not at all," says Socrates. "It is truth that you find impossible to withstand. Truth, and the way the butter melts, filling the bagel's creviced form."

This ancient expertise is on display around the clock at two of the three local diners I frequent, the Nevada and the Tick Tock. I can't vouch for the Eagle Rock's hours or breakfast: I eat there only after bowling with my son, which means two or three sides of bacon, fries, a vanilla shake, and a spirited dialogue about gutter balls and anger management.

The Nevada and the Tick Tock both offer vast menus, gigantic plates, and lousy coffee. The major difference is that the Tick Tock is on Route 3, a major artery between here and New York City, which means it attracts a breakfast clientele ranging from seething truckers just beginning their day to seething drunks just ending theirs; the Nevada is a local joint packed by seething Bloomfield cops. At both diners, what the waitresses lack in beauty they make up for with grim indifference, not that you really want another cup of that coffee — you're just waving hi to the drunk with the torn, bleeding earlobe.

I'm telling you, none of this matters. I've never had a breakfast at either place that wasn't superb. Omelets of many nations, pancakes the size of hubcaps, sausage links fat with flavor, eggs over easy atop mounds of corned beef — all hot, all tasty as hell, and plenty of it.

I can't honestly say that the hash browns are as crisp on top and tender below as I like them every time, or that the kitchen won't short the lox in my lox-and-onion omelet once in a while. It happens, but not often. And if it should happen to you, blame me. Just don't stiff the waitress — not unless you want your tires slashed. — Scott Raab