Doo-Dah Diner

Cooked from scratch Breakfast & Lunch, Open Tuesday to Sunday

Click here to see our remodeled diner!


Hours: Tue to Fri 7am to 2pm, Sat & Sun 8am to 2pm

*SUNDAY BRUNCH (NO MENU SERVICE) $19.99 ea, includes a beverage. Kids $9.99 - 8am-2pm

Patrick & Timirie Shibley voted 2017 "Restauranteurs of the Year" by the Kansas Restaurant & Hospitality Association

Doo-dah (doo' dah) n. - Another nickname for Wichita, KS. Origins unknown, but perhaps it references the laid-back, whimsical attitude felt by some visitors to the city.
Source: Urban Dictionary

2015, 2016, 2017 & 2018!

PEOPLE Magazine, Oct 8, 2018 Favorite Breakfast Restaurant - State of Kansas!


Richard, Issue #2

 Your neighbors at The Doo-Dah Counter are some of the most interesting people you will ever meet. Don’t miss the opportunity. Give them one of your beautiful smiles, along with a Good Morning or Hi or Howdy, and start asking questions. You will be glad you did, and it is almost certain that they will too. If, however, you happen to scare someone, and he bites you, call the server and ask to have his breakfast put on your bill. It will be far more effective (and safer) than biting him back. 

     When a 40-year-old woman sat down next to me the other day, I put on one of my prettiest smiles and greeted her with a Good Morning. Durned if her smile wasn’t even prettier than mine! If she hadn’t been so charming, it might have made me mad. With a degree in mathematics, she used to work in Finance at Learjet. She said she likes her current position as Dean of Academics at a local high school even better, because she can sing and dance without being deemed weird. I asked her what a Dean of Academics does. Her response was that she gets to tell the teachers what to do. That young woman got my day off to a beautiful start, and I think I made a difference in hers, too.

     At a Sunday buffet, a father showed me a photo of his two children and confided that marital problems keep him from seeing them as often as he would like.  He seemed more cheerful when he left The Doo-Dah Counter. Another man, a biomedical engineer, was accompanied at The Counter by one of his 12 children, ages 8-18, 9 of them adopted. Marital problems do not seem to be one of his options.

     My home, which was built several years before WWI, was bought by my daddy during WWII. I learned long ago that its nocturnal creaks and knocks are just ghosts, so I normally ignore them. However, one recent night, when it sounded as if they were getting a head start on Halloween, I decided to do some checking. All I found was a deceased cricket stuck to a mouse glue trap. When my computer finally gave me permission to go to bed, I happened to glance at the thirteen-inch-high empty plastic waste basket in the bedroom. Upon picking it up to examine the dark gray spot in the bottom, I spied a pair of small eyes pleading with mine. It was then that I learned a fact that I thought might interest you. A mouse can jump surprisingly high, about nine or ten inches, but thirteen is beyond its capabilities. I dressed and carried the basket with leaping mouse to the street. The neighbor on the other side had a trash barrel on the curb ready for pickup, so I dumped it in with her trash and closed the lid. Hopefully, it was hauled to the landfill, but if it escaped, I felt reasonably safe that it would no longer be my house that served as its home. You may wonder what this has to do with The Doo-Dah Counter. Nothing, but aren’t you glad to learn how high a mouse can jump?


Richard, Issue #1

What makes the Doo-Dah Counter so special—the terrific food or the terrific people? It’s a rare combination of both that exerts its magnetism on my 2-, 3- or 4-wheeled conveyance (depending on the weather and the degree of hunger) each day. Where else can you find such interesting people to visit while savoring one of Patrick’s consummate culinary concoctions?

     The Doo-Dah Counter can be a delectable experience. Just grin, say, “Hi,” and start asking questions.

     When the 30-year-old automotive technician finished licking his plate clean, the executive from Koch Industries fell heir to his counter stool. He was accompanied by his wife, who runs a fireworks business. They had moved to Wichita from the Pacific Northwest after learning of the Doo-Dah Counter. It was the “bat out of hell meat loaf” that cinched it for him—with good reason. If you haven’t tried it, you must. Timirie is proud to claim it as her recipe. She changed the green peppers to red peppers in her mother’s recipe.

     The handsome young man who climbed onto the warm counter stool next to the kitchen had the looks of a rock star. You would guess that he had the world by the tail.  However, he is recovering from the third operation on his right eye. He is fighting to keep his vision. He grinned as he revealed his plans to sport an eye patch during the healing process.

     The strength and conditioning coach moved to Wichita the first part of August. Judging from his youthful looks, I asked him if he was fresh out of school. His surprising response was that, including five years of internship, he had already practiced his profession for twelve years in Northern California. His personal conditioning makes it obvious that he knows his business. This was his first time at the Doo-Dah Counter, and he polished off a big breakfast burrito and some banana bread French toast. Hmm.

     The regulars know the chiropractor at the Doo-Dah counter as “Doc.” If you are in need of a smile, drop him one. You are guaranteed to get one in return. Do it before he takes that next bite, though.

     The backyard swimming pool is sitting on the delivery truck in front of the house, and there is no way to drive the truck around the house. What do you do? Answer: You call the man with the suave moustache who was sitting next to me this summer relishing the Doo-Dah special of the day, a patty melt with French fries. He was born into his line of work. His father had been a crane operator, and he, the day before, had used his crane to lift a swimming pool up and over a house to place it in the back yard. Can you do that? Would it even occur to you to do that?

     A few weeks ago I struck up a conversation with a 46-year-old, who looked more like 26,  sitting next to me at the Doo-Dah counter. It turned out that he was here from New York City to play a lead part in a musical at Century II. Later Googling found that he has been a lead in one of the longest-running Broadway shows, and he is now the lead in an off-Broadway show.

     Aren’t you glad you came?