The Cup

Food was really good! Coffee is average. Service is friendly and great here. If they had bloody Mary and mimosa options it would be perfect. Indoor and outdoor seating. Highly recommend the potato dishes and corn beef hash!

We loved this place. The food was amazing we all tried something different, I had the stake and eggs, daughter had the popcorn shrimp, and then we also tried the biscuits and gravy Highly recommend

Such a great breakfast place. We've been there half a dozen times and the food has always been delicious. The place is not fancy, it's just a diner but it's a fine setting for the yummy breakfasts and friendly service.

If you’re looking for the quintessential Port Townsend dining experience, look no further than The Cup. This cozy, beloved diner is an absolute gem, combining hearty, scratch-made American cuisine with the kind of warm, friendly service that makes you feel instantly at home. The location is spectacular, offering beautiful views that perfectly complement your meal—especially if you snag a spot on the patio. It’s the kind of place that’s always buzzing with good energy, mixing a lively local crowd with happy visitors. The service is consistently top-notch—attentive, incredibly friendly, and quick. They genuinely care about making sure you have a great experience, and that welcoming atmosphere is palpable. The Cup is more than just a place to eat; it's a slice of Port Townsend life. Come for the delicious food, stay for the friendly vibe, and enjoy the stunning view. Highly recommended for anyone visiting or living in the area!

Solid food, perfect service. A wee bit cold in the main dining room, but it was in the 30's and windy that day. Will definitely go back. Looks like they have a great summertime / outdoor setup.

We stopped at The Cup for breakfast and had an amazing meal. The portion size is great not too much not too little and it was a dog friendly atmosphere. Our server could not be any nicer and was very attentive to our needs.

Ah, the Cup in Port Townsend, WA. We showed up early on a Monday morning. The kind of early where you start questioning your own decisions. The place already had that quiet diner energy where everyone looks like they’ve been awake since the invention of rope. The customers there were clearly regulars. They had the posture of people who’ve already put in a full shift before sunrise and are now just trying to remember what day it is. The one person working the dining room, who I’m pretty sure is also the mayor, the fire marshal, and the person who decides when the ferry leaves, told us to sit wherever we wanted. Then she told us the daily specials with the enthusiasm of someone who has accepted her fate. It wasn’t dramatic. It was more like, “Here’s what we have. It’s Monday. We’re all doing our best.” And honestly, I appreciated the honesty. Before we even walked in, we saw three raccoons outside the restaurant just… existing. One was a few feet up a tree looking like he was waiting for a bus that doesn’t come anymore. Another was pretending not to stare at us, which is exactly how raccoons stare at you. And the third one looked like he was in charge of the operation. It felt like we were interrupting something important, like a union meeting. They didn’t move. They didn’t care. They were the most confident customers there. I ordered the daily survival, the salmon scramble, and it was great. It had cheese, veggies, and so much sockeye that I briefly wondered if I needed to sign paperwork. The potatoes were good too, even the ones that had clearly been through something. You know when a potato looks like it’s seen the bottom of the pan and reconsidered its life choices? Those were in there. Still delicious. The scramble comes with toast, but they don’t have gluten‑free, so I had to pass. I didn’t take it personally. Gluten‑free toast is basically a science fair project anyway. The hot chocolate came in a big mug, the kind of mug that makes you feel like you should be telling a story about the frontier. By the time we left, two more servers had arrived, so the place went from “one person doing everything” to “a small but functional government.” The new customers were more relaxed than the early‑morning crowd. They looked like people who woke up after the sun, which is a luxury I can only dream about. The food was good, the prices were reasonable, and on our way out we wandered into what looked like a greenhouse that had been converted into a dining room. It was cute and intimate, the kind of place where you could either have a very meaningful conversation or accidentally knock over a fern and ruin your whole week. As one local fisherman, Gus “Barnacle‑Beard” McClary, told me on the way out: “If you ain’t had breakfast at The Cup, you ain’t earned your sea legs.” He said it like it was a threat, but in a friendly way. Also, I think I used “were” wrong somewhere in here, and I’m sorry. I don’t know proper grammar.

The egg in my Benedict was a little over cooked but everything else was splendid!