In the world of comfort food, nothing induces Pavlovian-slavering and unadulterated lust quite like the grilled cheese sandwich. It's hard to go wrong with all that melty, buttery awesomeness (although I've witnessed a couple of Velveeta/Kraft-singles disasters in my life). When done right, the experience can be truly transcendent.

Ryan Afromsky does the work of the Lard at Culver City's Meltdown, a restaurant dedicated solely to the holy pressed union of bread, cheese and butter. The small sliver-of-a-space opened early this summer to great fanfare and orgasmic blog-shrieks; and with the newly-launched breakfast menu, chowhounds can start off their day with such calorie-loving indulgences.

My companion and I rendevoused at 9 a.m. for our breakfast sammies. While Hollywood is full of slumming, semi-employed actors at local greasy spoons all hours of the day, Culver City’s got more of a work ethic and its citizens are, for the most part, ensconced in offices at time in the morning. It's a calm scene, even smack-dab in the midst of the city's exploding gallery scene.

Stomachs growling, we placed our orders at the counter; soon breakfast was delivered to us by an agreeable, gray-haired waiter in his mid-fifties with a thick New York-Italian accent and tattooed knuckles. The bread-cheese formula had been tricked out with meat, eggs and some greens and was dripping with just the right amount of cheesy grease to play off the crispy bread. I ordered the “Healthy Scramble” with herbed goat cheese, scrambled egg whites, and fresh spinach on toasted wheat bread; Keith went for broke with the “Three Cheese Scramble,” a gooey baseball bat to the pulmonary system with sharp cheddar, muenster, and fontina cheeses with two scrambled eggs, all on sourdough bread. The two bites I stole of his sammy left me swooning.

Next time? I’m giving up on this health thing entirely and getting the “Cleo,” with dill-chive cream cheese, smoked salmon, eggs and caramelized onions on rye. Or maybe I’ll try Meltdown’s goat cheese, fig and honey melt on walnut bread. Because when you’re dining on the king of low-rent comfort food, you gotta go all the way.