Red booths. Breakfast at strange hours. Burgers when you probably should be sleeping.

Joji’s Diner became the kind of place where the usual rules about breakfast, lunch and dinner started to feel a little unnecessary.

Come early.

Come late.

Come somewhere in between.

Order pancakes at night. Have a burger before noon. Finish it all with a milkshake because apparently you still had room.

The clock isn’t really our thing.

And neither is telling people when they’re supposed to eat.

Because apparently one Joji’s wasn’t enough.

Joji’s Deli gave us room to play a little more.

Bigger sandwiches. Messier plates. Hearty pasta. Baby back ribs. Food that sometimes requires both hands and possibly an unreasonable number of napkins.

It has its own mood, its own rhythm and a slightly different kind of chaos.

Same neighbourhood.

Same attitude.

Different kind of craving.