Eugene weekly., July 21, 2005, Page 24, Image 24

CHOW! SUMMER 2005
Where Everybody
Knows Your Name
Eugene’s “Joy”-ful greasy spoon
Story by Sara Wachter-Boettcher • Photos by Todd Cooper
ome in, come in! You
take any table you
want,” Joy Knudtson
yells from behind
the long lunch counter at Brails
Restaurant, gesturing wildly
toward the red-and-green vinyl
booths in the back and smiling a
toothy, lipsticky smile. She talks
rapidly as she darts about, coffee
pot in hand, eyes searching out
empty cups. “How-a you this morn-
ing?” she asks with a distinctly
Korean accent, her lips transforming
into their trademark grin after every
sentence. “More coffee? You want more
coffee?” More likely than not, your
cup will be full and she’ll be on
to the next table before you
can even reply. But
don’t question it;
that’s just Joy’s
way.
“C
4 JULY 21, 2005 CHOW!
Joy
Knudtson
And Brails, an old-fashioned American
diner at 1689 Willamette St., is Joy’s
restaurant. Since buying the business from
her sister in the fall of 2001, the fit, well-
dressed and always made-up 48-year-old
has become the soul of Eugene’s quintes-
sential “greasy spoon,” immediately
befriending everyone who enters. Hung
over college students, ladies meeting after
church, middle-aged men stopping in for a
weekday sandwich — all are greeted with
Joy’s energetic, welcoming presence. “I am
kind of a people person,” she says, flinging
her hands up in the air and throwing her
head back in a table-pounding, raucous fit
of laughter, something she does often. “I
get along with everyone, and I’m having
fun with it!”
After spending years working in other
people’s restaurants — including a
Chinese-Korean-Japanese establishment in
Anchorage, Alaska, a bakery and café in
Vancouver, Washington and a short stint as
the co-owner of Brails back in the early
’90s, when her sister first bought the place
— Joy is ecstatic to run a restaurant on her
own terms. For 60 hours each week, she
flits around Brails in a frenzy of hard work
and friendly words, building an enormous
base of regular customers with her sincere,
thorough service.
One such customer, Adam Kriz, a ham-
mer thrower for Eugene’s Team XO,
became a Brails regular a few years ago,
when he was a UO student. At first, he
came in for the hash browns and bacon. “I
was hung over and it was delicious,” he
says. But the kicker came a year and a half
ago, when Joy offered to sponsor his track
and field career with a stipend. “The terms
and conditions under it, I believe, were that
she would give me $100 every month and
then in return, I would pick up the $100
every month,” Kriz jokes. He now wears
the Brails logo on the back of his jersey,
proud of having Joy’s support.
Joy’s devotion to her customers some-
times borders on the obsessive; during one
meal at Brails, don’t be surprised if she
comes by to thank you five or six times.
“You know how many times I thank the
people?” she asks. “Probably 500 times per
day. Not because I want to make a lot of
money. No, that’s not it; I don’t really have
to work. But I like it. When I come here,
Brails is my life.”
This determination is the other side of
Joy, the side people don’t always see when
she’s chatting with the regulars and serving
up waffles or club sandwiches. “I want to
be the best in Eugene,” she says without a
hint of modesty. This goal is what keeps
Joy motivated, and what brings her satis-
faction with life. “I’m not really business,
but I know how to work,” she says. “I’ll
work until my body doesn’t listen.”
Joy demands this same work ethic from
her eight employees. They can’t be lazy,
and they can’t be messy. “When I work,
they gotta work,” she says. “I bend over
and clean up. I do things.” That’s why she
likes her newest hire, Sara Taylor, a Brails
regular. Last month, Joy was working a
weekend brunch shift that was busier than
expected. Taylor, who was eating with her
friends, saw her frantically working. A vet-
eran waitress herself, Taylor offered to help
out. Joy hired her on the spot. On her way
out, Taylor stops to give Joy a hug.
Most bosses would never run a business
the way Joy runs Brails, but Joy isn’t most
bosses. Instead, she treats her employees
like a tender but firm mother: She doesn’t
bark out orders, but her boundaries are clear.
Ian Gray, a UO student who’s worked at
Brails for two years, knows this firsthand.
Once, he showed up for a breakfast shift
after a late night out. It was early — earlier
than he was scheduled to work, Gray claims
— and business was slow, so he crept into
the back office to sleep off a hangover.
Pretty soon, Joy opened the door and found
him. “You sleep now,” she told him, point-
ing her finger. “But when I come wake you
up, you work!” Two hours later, Brails was
bustling and she needed Gray’s help. He
worked like mad for the rest of the day.
Although Joy was lenient with Gray, he
knows her limits. “Don’t talk back to her —
that gets you fired,” he says, along with two
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