I love Steve’s. I love how the guy who owns it clearly isn’t a Steve, but changed it to something more familiar. Like he’s a Stefanos or something. He’s got to be Greek. And talking of Greeks, this place kind of reminds me on the diner in Season 2 of The Wire, the one by the Waterfront that The Greek and Spiros are always in. But there’s nothing Greek about the grub. This is hearty British nosh, and by hearty I mean heart clogging. The Full English Breakfasts are beastly(in a good way), mountainous in both quantity and the amount of effort one needs to input to scoff the lot. Apparently they do other food here, but I’m usually too dazed after a heavy night on the town to notice and I’ve only got a fry-up on my mind. Seriously the breakfasts are the one and only reason you need to pop along. Greasy Spoons forever!