Jakob Menendez

The minute you walk up to the door of The Driftwood Restaurant, three things immediately become apparent: 

One — the long-standing breakfast joint is cash only, so if you’re like me, you’ll need to turn around and take a right at the Miami blue-colored house and get cashback from Crosby’s Marketplace. 

Two — the door itself is seemingly made of the wood that gave the place its namesake, and you must push it open rather than pull it.

Three— the smell emanating from inside means that you are indeed in the right place if you’re looking for a classic, but nonetheless delicious breakfast. And it doesn’t matter if you got there right when it opened at 6 a.m., or right before closing at 2.

Located at 63 Front St., The Driftwood has been serving up classic Americana breakfast fare to locals and transplants alike in Marblehead since the early 1960’s; although it’s rumored that the building has been on the property since the 1700’s. 

Colleen Galvin’s parents bought the spot from a woman named Peg Upchurch in 1981. Galvin admits that she “only knows what other people have told me,” but that she does know that Upchurch opened in 1960. Galvin took over in the spring of 2008 and has been running it ever since.

She’s certainly had lots of help in keeping the place afloat on Marblehead’s waterfront, most notably from waitress Jan Frost who started in September, 1970 selling soft-serve outside of a takeout window on the weekends. 

“A couple years later, a waitress didn’t show up and they threw me out there, and the rest is history,” said Frost. 

Asked what the biggest change to the restaurant was since starting her job 52 years ago, Frost was quick to say that it was the community. “Back then it was a lot more everybody got along, and I don’t want to be mean and say there weren't any yuppies in the town, but now it’s just a different crowd.”

Motioning to the slew of red countertop tables inside the small restaurant and said, “Back then all these tables at 5 o’clock in the morning were full of fishermen. It was a whole different crowd, it was a rowdy crowd, it was a lot of fun. 

“You get your regulars that come in with their babies, then you watch those babies grow up and come in with their babies, and then you get your regulars again as elderly couples, and then you just don’t see them anymore, or just one of them will come in. And it’s just like, ugh," as Frost motions with her hands to her heart. “You become attached, you become attached to a lot of your customers.”

While not much has changed inside of the restaurant since Frost started working there decades ago — aside from the bar top changing colors from gray to red and getting rid of the soft serve machine, the menu certainly looks very different.

Galvin quipped that one egg, bacon/sausage, toast, and a coffee used to go for 99 cents, whereas now that same order will run you nearly seven dollars. 

But change isn’t always a bad thing for their customers, as now the variety of menu items ranges from the standard breakfast of eggs, homefries, and toast, to their signature pancake sundae which is adorned with bananas, blueberries, strawberries, and whipped cream. 

I opted for a more classic fare of what Galvin considered their most popular dishes — corned beef hash with eggs and toast. I ordered mine sunny side up as I like a runny yolk, and when the plate was presented to me I could immediately recognize why the place has been in business for so long, as I’m not sure I’ve ever seen such perfectly cooked eggs in my life.

After ordering my meal, an older gentleman took a seat next to me at the bar and ordered scrambled eggs on a blueberry corn muffin, an order that mystified me but piqued my interest nonetheless. 

Both Galvin and Frost knew him by name, which would make sense considering he had been coming to The Driftwood for the past 60 years as he recounted biking to the spot with his friends in the early 1950’s. 

With every new customer that walked in, came a new name, a new story, a new friendship that had been forged ages ago. 

The best of the regulars get enshrined on the wall behind the bar with a framed photo after they pass, or in the jar labeled “Ashes of Problem Customers.” While many more are sure to be added onto that wall in the coming years, it’s the new faces that walk in everyday looking for that familial atmosphere that keep The Driftwood alive and well. And who knows, maybe one day their kids will come in with their kids, and maybe, if you’re nice enough, you’ll end up on that wall one day too.