So maybe we aren’t rising at 4 a.m. and going to plow the North 40 with a mule. And maybe we don’t need to fortify ourselves with pancakes and eggs and a pile of meat and potatoes for breakfast. I have probably watched the Amish with Harrison Ford in Witness once too often- but breakfast is my favorite meal of the day. “Breakfast like a King, lunch like a Prince, sup like a pauper”. I forget who coined that phrase but it is not bad advice- after a long fast overnight, the gastric juices are flowing like Niagara Falls by 8 a.m. and Fall River has sprouted a great crop of little breakfast nooks fit to fortify the heartiest appetite. The Quest for Breakfast is best undertaken with a local inhabitant who knows all the best neighborhood hangouts -and there are dozens all over the city. some very obvious, some tucked into side streets, and some little gems so unobtrusive that only the “locals” seem to know where they are. Highland Ave. Spa is not hard to find, being situated on the north end of Highland Ave., just across the street from Saint Patrick’s cemetery. You can park on the street or in the closed gas station just across the street from the restaurant. The Spa has been situated here for a good long time and has build up a real clientele of Old Faithfuls. 
There seems to be a goodly number of fellas holding forth on a weekend- bachelors or divorced, or escaping the Wife! They take possession of the coveted back room and have a fine old time!
The breakfast menu is extensive and features chourico as well as sausage and bacon, hash, homefries, waffles, -and did I say pancakes? Now pancakes are a religion with me and I will go to the end of the earth for a thin, tender pancake. It needs to be somewhere between a pancake and a crepe. Once upon a time such Food of the Gods could be found at Manila Jade on Locust Street. It’s all in the batter-not too thick, not too thin and only fresh ingredients. I hate those big, thick flannel-like blobs which must be drowned in syrup and butter just to choke ‘em down. Well, the Spa has pretty good pancakes- but hold on to your hats- they are the size of Volvo hubcaps! I ordered the Highland Ave. special which is toast, three eggs any style, a meat choice, french toast or pancakes, juice, home fries and coffee- all for $7.99. 
It is really enough food for two people when you get the pancakes. A small country could breakfast on the two steaming dinnerplate-sized flapjacks which will arrive at the table. I had two strapping men tackle my leftover cakes, which is why there is no photo of them! The bacon is cooked just right- still a little chewy, not flattened to within an inch of its life by those awful grill bacon presses! The spuds are firm, flavorful- not greasy, and a wonderful golden color. Wish I knew the spices used to get this shade. I think the taters were Yukon Golds- they held their shape and were a tasty mouthful. I have a few gripes. Where, oh where is the good old butter dish with a stick of marg or, better still- real butter? Instead, one must beg for those irritating miniscule butter dabs which are packed in Chicklet-sized, inpenetrable plastic mini-tubs. You will need about 20 of these just to cover one of the hubcap flapjacks. Then there’s the syrup. I asked for maple syrup-I mean it should be like mother’s milk to the Yankees. But in the heart of Great New England, you get corn syrup flavored with imitation maple flavor, a whole lot of chemicals and preservatives, and artificial maple-like colorings. Vermont’s only a stone’s throw away- all those sugar maples just begging for tapping. The restaurant which has real maple syrup AND a stick of butter will have my undying devotion and patronage for LIFE! If I were back in Dixie I would slather the cakes with molasses, but you will never find THAT in a restaurant north of the Mason-Dixon! 
I am thinking of carrying a hip flask of it.
One last pet peeve. POACHED EGGS. I have yet to order my favorite egg treatment and have any cook get it right. I love to see those golden orbs of goodness perched high and firm atop their sea of whites. I always ask for “poached firm”. What I get is a well-done egg white harboring beneath its milky skin, a sea of oozing, near-raw egg yolk. So, I have adopted the British way of coping, sopping it all up with a strip of toast, and trying not to think about salmonella in raw egg yellow. So far- so good. No trips to the Charlton Hospital emergency room from raw eggs- yet. Eggs any other way are perfection at the Spa. The place is tidy, clean tables, great, fast service, friendly folks, plenty of paper napkins, no rush and hurry- and the prices are great. Bring a huge appetite. My #2 favorite place for breakfast in the city.
I’m with you on the maple syrup. But I have yet to find real maple syrup at a restaurant around here. My kids and I even have a joke about it, and have been known to travel with our own syrup.
It could be that it’s too expensive; not only is maple syrup itself more pricey, it’s a lot runnier than the fake stuff. I’ve noticed that many people used to the fake stuff tend to WAY overpour real maple syrup. Could be that the restaurants can’t justify both the expense and the waste.
Just a hypothesis.
As for the butter, I’m not sure I want to share a stick of butter with multiple previous patrons. But a breakfast place needs to be generous with the pats of butter.
Good review!