I guess this means no more public humiliations while waiting to order an El Vez.

Allow me to explain.

Foodie Bob Blumer put it this way in a Now magazine obit for the tiny, quirky Queen/Bathurst diner, which held a garage sale on the weekend to mark its closing:

It's the end of the world as we know it. And by "we" I mean those of us whose definition of a perfect breakfast joint is a magical hole-in-the-wall that serves crispy, herbalicious hash brown potatoes, airy blintzes and kick-ass chili.

Sure, this perfection personified was occasionally marred by bouts of rudeness, erratic hours and the looming possibility of being unceremoniously tossed out if the cook was having a bad day, but that's what made Mimi's so special: you had to work for the love.

I am among those who have been kicked out.

Sometime in the early summer of 2001, I had planned to meet up for lunch on Friday with Mr. Guynick at Mimi's. I arrived first. Mimi's was already packed. I stood waiting near the till, not far from Mimi herself.

My presence disturbed Mimi's aura.

She whispered something to her pierced, tatted, biker-chick-looking waitress. The waitress took a few steps towards the rear of the joint, then apparently thought 'screw it,' and said, quite loudly and sourly across the room to me, "Do you mind standing outside the curtain?"

Outside the curtain is essentially the street.

On said street, Mr. Guynick showed up. I explained what transpired and added, "I don't think I can go back in there." I believe I projected an attitude of trauma and disbelief.

We walked down to another Queen St. restaurant institution that has since died -- the Vienna Home Bakery.

I thought the Vienna had quiche on the menu. I attempted to order it. The waitress told me they only had quiche for weekend brunches. Then she made this helpful suggestion: "If you want eggs, why don't you go to Mimi's?"

"I don't think that's possible," I replied, then explained the situation.

"Yes, I've heard Mimi can be like that," the waitress said with a sympathetic grimace.

I didn't return to Mimi's for at least six months. However, staying away forever wasn't possible, for only Mimi made the El Vez omelette: Eggs topped with Monterrey Jack cheese and her famous chili. I usually got it with the marble rye toast and hash browns. Mimi's was the only place I could find that also had Habanero chili pepper sauce available as a condiment (Big Fat Burrito in Kensington Market has chipotle sauce!).

Now, lest you think I'm alone in being ostracized and humiliated by Mimi, let's skip ahead to a Saturday afternoon visit to The Cameron House. Inside, a waitress is on a tear: "I'm absolutely sick of her! I spend a hundred bucks a week in that place and she treats me like shit! I'm not gonna take it any more!!"

I interject: "Let me guess -- we're talking about Mimi."

Oh yes, we were! And soon everyone at the bar was venting about Mimi, like steam blasting out through multiple ruptures in a pipe.

Things did eventually improve between me and Mimi. She did take some amusement value from this TTC meltdown story from last fall, which earned me some credit with the temperamental little breakfast Nazi, but it doesn't matter now. For she's gone, and she's taken her El Vez recipe with her. Sigh.