At Krain Corner Restaurant, nearly 100 years of homey goodness

If you've been on a Sunday drive to have dinner with your great aunt who's famous for her pot roast, homemade soups and willingness to make you breakfast any time of day — all in a house where little has changed for many decades — then you've experienced Krain Corner Restaurant.

Situated on a plain outside Enumclaw for the past 93 years, "the Krain" is the last remaining building in what had been the old Slovenian town of Krain, which means "at the foothills."

Unlike its rowdy past as a tavern, where patrons were served at the massive bar as long as they were able to stand, today the restaurant bustles with families delighted to find dining bargains (prime rib for $16.99, including soup or salad and potato) and neighborhood camaraderie.

The menu: Karen Hatch, who's owned the restaurant since 1991, serves up home-cooked meals (trout and eggs, hot cakes, hamburgers, corned-beef hash) to delighted fans who've been coming back for generations. Everyone loves the breakfasts — kielbasa and eggs ($9.95), a wide variety of omelets (about $9.25) — or the burgers ($4.99 and up) and fish and chips ($10.99) offered at lunch and dinner.

What to write home about: Although I've had the prime rib and other entrees here, my favorite is the trout and eggs, an unusual combination that's always moist and tender and a nice accompaniment to the home-cooked hash browns.

My friend changed from his old standby the Krain Scramble — a combination of eggs, cheddar cheese and ham — to the classic Denver omelet and wasn't disappointed.

The setting: Like going to your great aunt's home, every object has a story just waiting to be told, like the bar that was shipped to Krain from Alaska about the turn of the century or the antiques and historic photos, including one of baseball legends Babe Ruth and Lou Gehrig.

Summing up: Breakfast for two with tip cost $26.89 for a Denver omelet, trout and eggs and two coffees. But visiting the Krain is more than dining — it's a trip back in time to catch a glimpse of a bygone era.

Nancy Bartley: 206-464-8522 or nbartley@seattletimes.com