The Twin Cities Breakfast Club Blog

Tastes Like Summer

2010-09-05T15:20:00.005-05:00

Town Talk Diner
2701 1/2 E. Lake Street
Minneapolis, MN 55406
612.722.1312

For most of us, pumpkin is the taste of November. In these times of canned pumpkin there's no reason why we can't enjoy a nice pumpkin pie any month of the year. But we don't. Maybe we get our fill in November, when even the yogurt and coffee shop muffins turn briefly pumpkin-pie-flavored, or maybe we're just trying to match rusty orange food with the rusty orange leaves of fall. Whatever the reason, long before it became fashionable to eat seasonally appropriate foods, pumpkin stood out as a food we just naturally eat when it's locally ready for us to eat it. I can't think of too many things that speak to the season as well as pumpkin does.

Recently, at the Town Talk, I had a meal that tasted like a plate full of summer. We've reviewed the Town Talk before, and I've corrected the record just so I could rave about their steak and eggs, so I was shocked when Perley admitted that he'd never even been to the Town Talk. It is a bit of a haul from Uptown though all of Lake Street's poorly-timed stop lights, but still, I'm always amazed when any member of our club has not been to what I consider one of the stand-bys of the Minneapolis breakfast scene. And so, when Perley called a meeting of the Club, and a small contingent of us answered the call (Beau was Studying for Boards, Jimmy wasn't answering his phone, Judy was on call), I insisted we rectify the situation.

The problem was that even though Perley called the meeting early enough, I had already eaten breakfast. I love the steak and eggs and all, but I balked at having steak and eggs for second breakfast. You don't go out to breakfast as often as I do without eventually learning that overeating first thing in the morning can ruin your day. And so I faced a dilemma, what could I order without weighing myself down and destroying any chance of having a productive afternoon?

I settled on a salad. I know. This is exactly what I'm always mocking Judy about. How can you adequately review a breakfast when all you eat is twigs, berries and leaves?

At least it was a smoked salmon salad. And smoked salmon is a breakfast food. It's even a breakfast food that I have often sworn never, ever to eat again. (Come on. If I followed through on not-doing all of the many, many things I swore never, ever to do again, where would I be? Alone, hungry, and bored, that's where.)

So, anyway, the smoked salmon salad at the Town Talk comes with sliced fennel bulb (which is the part of the fennel plant that only carries a whisper of the liquorice flavor that permeates its seeds), fresh strawberries, and feta cheese. One bite and I knew I was glad to have failed to swear off smoked salmon forever.

I can't speak to Perley's biscuits and gravy or Sarah's hamburger, because we've all gotten rusty on the idea of grading our breakfasts before we leave the restaurant, but I can say that I'm glad I had a second breakfast that morning, and I'm glad I was sensible enough to stay in the salad section of the menu, because that's where summer was hanging out that that morning. I give it a B+, because the strawberries could have been more perfect, but the combination of flavors could not have been better.

TCBCB Refresh

2010-08-26T14:03:00.003-05:00

Oh, it's been a long time since we've been here to see you, Internet. The cast of characters has changed a bit. The old standbys have been stood up. We got busy. We stopped eating out most weekends. We began to feel like we'd reviewed everything in town (nay, the whole world). One commenter called me a snob (true, true), and Beau, the heart and soul of TCBCB started Studying for his Boards.

I can't really explain how all-consuming Studying for Boards is in this family. We grew up with Judy as a role model, which meant that the words "Studying for Boards" have to be written in capital letters. After all, this is a full time occupation. For Judy, it meant burrowing into her bed, surrounding herself with books and papers, closing the door (in a family that never closed doors!), and muttering to herself about journal articles while she picked bits of skin off her lower lip with the nails of her thumb and forefinger. ("Stop picking at yourself," said Jimmy when I was a kid. "You'll make yourself bleed. Just like your mother.") Beau brought a book about DNA to a recent family reunion, setting himself up in a lounge chair, and interrupting his reading only briefly to chat up his cousins and dip in the lake. There was no physical door on the beach of that lake, but it was closed just the same. It had to be. He was not to be disturbed. He was Studying for Boards.

But the rest of us don't have boards, and we were recognized in a restaurant recently (which -- since the secret plan of this little family blog has always been to take over the world -- seemed like a promising start to world domination). So, we have decided to begin again. Restaurants that we've been to before, we will go to again. Our team of picky eaters and "snobs" will again put pen to paper, to write about hash browns and three eggs with steak and hamburgers before noon. Well, OK, there never have been pens or paper, but you know what I mean...

Thank you for your patience. Thank you for the spam emails - and the non-spam very nice ones that made us want to write again. Today, as the not-too-hot late August sun shines outside the window, anything seems possible. We might just post once a month in the last quarter of 2010.

Blue Plate Revisited

2009-11-22T12:05:00.008-06:00

Highland Grill
771 Cleveland Ave S
St Paul MN, 55116
651.690.1173

Anyone that has read this blog knows all too well that we are not fans of franchises or cookie cutter type restaurants. Our snobby nature keeps us from appreciating the benefits of these establishments. There is something to be said about a place that doesn't surprise you with wacky ingredients and won't be mind-blowingly good but will be consistently decent. What's the fun in that? We'd much rather roll the dice and find a hidden gem that may or may not be any good (preferably fancy, all-organic, local/sustainable, with room for a large group and great service, and also serves lots of meat, we're so low maintenance).

For this reason, we have not thoroughly explored the stable of Blue Plate restaurants, Edina Grill, Highland Grill, 3Squares Restaurant, Longfellow Grill, and the Groveland Tap. I wasn't in attendance at the previous underwhelming dining experience at the Highland Grill so my suggestion this morning was coolly received (even after I played the "it's where Rachael and I had our first date" card). I was informed that my idea would be discussed and I would be notified of our destination after a thorough vetting and everyone was given the opportunity for a veto. As our 9:30 eating time I approached, I called to inquire about the status of our location. I was informed that all were headed over to the Highland Grill and why wasn't I on the way because I was going to be late. Such are the perils of communicating with my mother. Or maybe that was my punishment for not driving over to Pemberley house (our friend Selena's wonderful nickname for Jimmy and Judy's house) before breakfast to be a part of the discussion.

I made it, a little late, but I made it. Since I arrived last and on my own, I got to enter the building by myself. This made me giddy since the Highland Grill has the best door in the world. You have to push a giant button to open it and it folds open mechanically. I like to pretend like I am entering a space ship. Further evidence that I am a giant child.

The spaceshipy decor extends beyond the door to the entire restaurant. It is a very nice space with cool touches, like mish-mash of various homey coffee mugs and terry cloth napkins. As Perley so aptly described it, the Highland Grill looks exactly like what would happen if the Pixar people created a diner for one of their movies.

The service was delightful and attentive. It takes a lot of refills before I say no to coffee and I reached that point today. Our server was also very patient and helpful as certain members of our group dithered over their orders.

The food was quite good and we had only minor complaints. The hash browns were nearly tremendous and those lucky enough to have some with their meal had to protect them from the ranging forks of jealous club members. I don't think Breakfast Club with ever become Blue Plate Inc. devotees, but with properly managed expectations no one was disappointed.

Grades:
Amadeus-Eggs Benny. VERY good, perfectly crisp hash browns. The only negative was that the eggs were overcooked which robbed me of my favorite part of eggs benny, when I cut into the yolk and it spills out and mixes in with the the hollandaise sauce. Mmmmmmm. A-.

Alex-Salmon, cream cheese, and onion scramble. She was pleasantly surprised by her meal and raved about the hash browns. No grade provided, and she's a teacher!

Perley-Cakes, eggs, and links. Nothing to complain about, nothing to write home about. Solid B.

Sarah-Turkey burger. Very good fries. B.

Jimmy-French Toast (a choice that astounded the group since it contains no steak). Deemed solid. B.

Judy-Irish oatmeal. Judy though her oatmeal was too sweet. It was too sweet at the first bite and remained too sweet after she poured maple syrup on it. I love my crazy, crazy mother. No grade provided. She still hasn't figured out how to text her grade to me with her new phone. She knows how to turn it on and make a call, but texting? Not so much.

Getting the meat sweats, glorious, glorious meat sweats

2009-07-12T20:16:00.004-05:00

The Strip Club
378 Maria Avenue
St. Paul, MN 55106
651.793.6247

Breakfast club has been on an extended hiatus due to major life changes (e.g. graduation, moving, unpacking), minor life complications (day/night/day call schedules), and old fashioned laziness. Hopefully things have settled down so we will resume our blistering pace of 0.5 posts/week.

A long while ago a kind reader suggested that we try The Strip Club in St. Paul and one look at the menu shows why it might appeal to most members of the club. There is a certain appreciation for people who are at the carnivore end of the eating spectrum. "Vegetarians regarded with benevolent amusement" is the statement at the bottom of menu. Perhaps a better disclaimer on the menu would be "We understand if vegetarians put their menu down and run screaming from the restaurant". Their ketchup is made with bacon. 'Nuff said. As breakfast club began to assemble, I heard Perley and Jill were merely maybes for breakfast. I sent Perley a text trying to persuade him with the idea of bacon ketchup. Little did I know that he is a ketchup purist and scorned the idea of ketchup modification. Surprise, surprise, a member of the club has a strong feeling regarding something food related. Who knew?

Once everyone had arrived and the meal begun, I was reminded how dearly I missed breakfast club these past two years. My favorite part of club is the often bizarre and sarcastic discussions that we have. Today the conversation ranged from Sarah's new purchase of an ice cream maker, her recent successful endeavors, and the subsequent demands for strange flavors (Gravy! Black pepper! Olive oil!); to rumors of a machine that can allegedly make ice cream out of any food (not a rumor, it's t rue!) and its potential limitations, (could it turn a complete turkey dinner into ice cream?); to the likelihood that the Strip Club was a brothel in a previous life (the PTI oddsmakers would give it a ~60% chance); and finally to my freakishly muscular calves and tendency to text like a thirteen year old girl (guilty and guilty).

The food was universally acclaimed. Luckily there is no one who veers toward the vegetarian side of the eating spectrum in this group. Three of us (Amadeus, Rachael, Sarah) had the Loaded burger with a fried egg that would have satisfied Homer Simpson (Good Morning Burger anyone?). This delicious monstrosity was loaded with smoked provolone, sauteed mushrooms, tomatoes, ridiculously thick bacon, and not one, but two fried eggs. I could barely fit it into my mouth and by the time that I was done I felt like I had been dipped in grease up to my elbows. And yes, that is a good thing. It also came with French fries that were absolutely perfect. Possibly the best fries in the Twin Cities. The only downside to the Loaded burger is that when one has not prepared in advance, e.g. starve yourself all day prior to your meal, it is a lot to take. I was getting the full-on meat sweats by the time I had finished my burger. I felt like I should have gotten some sort of medal for finishing it.

Perley and Alex had the Irish breakfast and loved it. The white beans in tomato sauce was given especially high marks. Jimmy had the steak and eggs (with french fries and bacon ketchup). He loved his meal and horded his bacon ketchup like it was the elixir of life. Jill had the smoked salmon and potato hash and enjoyed it, but would have enjoyed it more with a little less salt. Judy went the sweet route and got French toast with caramel sauce. She like her meal the least of the entire group and spent most of the meal trying to snag bites of other people's food. The French toast was too soggy and the caramel sauce got to be a bit too much by the end of the meal. I had the luxury of sitting next to her and sampling the caramel sauce by way of a bit of my bacon and that was an amazing combination. Sweet and salty it's the best.

The service was prompt, witty, understanding of our quirks. Brunch begins at 9 am on Sunday so we had the luxury of dedicated service when we showed up at 9:00:00.1. Coffee refills were fast and furious and we were never wanting for cream or sugar. Our server was also very helpful with menu suggestions.

The Strip Club provided us with a wonderful meal in a beautiful space with a great view of downtown St. Paul. We loved our entire breakfast experience and will return to the Strip Club again. We don't recommend the Strip Club for your everyday breakfast needs, but if you are looking for an insane, delicious, meat-sweat inducing meal for a special occasion, the Strip Club is your place.

Grades:
Beau-Loaded (I mistyped that word at first and called it the "leaded" burger, which is kind of how it acted in my stomach) burger with egg-A-
Rachael-Loaded burger with egg-A as she was eating it, C as she was digesting it
Sarah-Loaded burger with egg-B
Jill-Scandahuvian smoked salmon and potato hash-B+
Perley-Irish breakfast-A+
Alex-Irish breakfast-A
Jimmy-Steak and eggs-B+
Judy-French toast with caramel-B-

An Epic Post for an Epic Brunch

2009-05-26T15:43:00.004-05:00

What the!? Two breakfast club posts in three days? What has gotten in to us? Hopefully this doesn't tire us out too much and we will post again before the year 2015. Today is a special guest post by my friend and former classmate, Cathy (who can be read at her blog, Ultimate Cookies). This is the final Denver post as I done gradumatated and will be moving back to Minneapolis on Thursday. This may result in more frequent ramblings from us because clearly I am the creative inspiration for this blog. This post is long and further proof that Judy gets everything that she wants. She requested a post and Cathy was happy to oblige, probably because this is part of her grand plan to lure Alex to Denver now that I am leaving. Enjoy.
~Amadeus

Brown Palace Hotel and Spa
321 17th St
Denver, CO 80202
303.297.3111

When you walk into a fancy dining room with the sounds of a live jazz band wafting through the air and see a chocolate fountain, you know you are in for either a really classy meal or a really tacky meal. Well, if this fancy dining room is at the Brown Palace Hotel and you are there for the Dom Perignon Champagne Brunch, you are in for an exquisite treat. (I must note that the Breakfast Club treasurers were staying at said hotel in celebration of their son's graduation with his 2nd Masters degree and most graciously hosted this meal, leaving some of the club to fend for themselves back home.)

The thought for this gathering was instigated by myself once I heard that Amadeus's legendary parents, Jimmy and Judy, would be in town for graduation along with the wonderful Rachael. I begged him for a true Breakfast Club experience with his family, Jessica and myself, hoping for a breakfast burrito trip to Pete's Kitchen or the like. Negotiations ensued and lo and behold, reservations were made for this graduation brunch of epic proportions. Attending were the treasurers, the graduating son and his wife, his classmate Jessica with her fiancee, Brad, mother Nancy and sister Caitlin, and myself with Chester.

Chester and I arrived late due to street parking difficulties. We would later learn that valet is included with the all-you-can drink champagne and delicacies. First thing we noted as we walked through the dining room was the chocolate fountain at the dessert station. Then there was an ice sculpture at the seafood/cold delicacies station. And the live jazz band with baby grand piano. Fancy pants, indeed. There was also a carving station and a made-to-order omelet station with the requisite chefs in their poofy white hats. Everyone else had arrived and most were enjoying orange juice that looked and tasted very fresh squeezed. The first thing I noted at the table was the silverware that was set up very much a la Pretty Woman; I silently prayed that I wouldn't shoot any crustaceans into anyone else's lap.

The servers were in their brocade shirts and embroidered vests and were very attentive, never removing people's plates without first asking if they were finished. The beverages (coffee, OJ, water and Moet) were never wanting and despite the vast array of flutes, goblets, cups and saucers on the table, I can report that no spillage occurred. You really can dress these folks up and take them out!

The amazing thing about this brunch buffet was that there were so many tasty treats at each of the stations! I venture that this meal was even better than the fancy schmanchy Christmas buffet at the Wynn casino in Las Vegas. Judy noted that at buffets, it is very hard to serve everything at the proper temperature and she felt that they came very close to hitting the mark. The game plan for Amadeus and Brad was to start with the breakfast foods, move on to the lunch foods, then hit dinner and dessert. Jessica and I went straight in for the seafood, sushi and artisan cheeses before thinking about dessert.

As I mentioned, there were so many highlights that I will just go through the high points. The coffee was good and strong with carafes of cream at the table, though this blend was balanced enough to not require doctoring (in my opinion). The server informed us that the one item that could only be found at this brunch and no other menus at the establishment was the lemon-apricot blintzed that were light and airy with a nice fruity balance to the cheese. The prime rib was also highly recommended and almost everyone who had it (everyone except Amadeus) commented that it was succulent and cooked well with just the right amount of texture. Rachael got a "small piece" and intended to only eat half, but found herself finishing the whole piece. If you were audacious enough to ask for a "small piece," you wound up with a slice about as big as Rachel Ray's hands. Nancy thought that the piece she had was just a little tough for her taste. Chester and Caitlin noted that there were no steak knives available for slicing and the butter knives, though adequate, were not the best utensil. The carving station also had a sweet potato hash that was very buttery with a nice texture and pan-seared scallops that were very tender. On my first fly-by the station, I saw the sous chef liberally dolloping butter onto the scallops and I have a feeling that these chefs are from the French cooking school of thought. There was also another hunk of meat that no one opted for instead of the prime rib. To round out the food pyramid, there were sauteed haricots verts that Judy decided to forgo on her plate since there is only so much room in one's stomach and we agreed that green beans can be had anywhere.

At the center salad, seafood, sushi, cheese and breakfast station was where many of the tasty tidbits resided. I was happy to note that though there was perfectly shredded romaine and spinach available with a variety of toppings for those who must have a salad, they didn't go overboard with the real estate afforded to this selection. Let's face it, if you are going for the fancy champagne brunch and have any sense in your noggin', Caesar salad with croutons is not what you will be filling up on. There was an assortment of seafood including smoked salmon, smoked trout, poached salmon and lox with the proper accouterments. Also a big mound of ice with shrimp, crab legs and oysters. The oyster were a hit with those who like raw seafood and I particularly liked that they had loosened the oyster so that they were easily slurped. Caitlin enjoyed that the cocktail sauce had some horseradish kick to it and I gave the station points for the lemon wedges that all New Englanders know are a must have for any seafood. A couple of plates of sushi that included spicy tuna rolls, California rolls, crab rolls and shrimp nigiri and a nice seafood salad rounded out the mix but didn't overreach. The spicy tuna rolls had a sprinkling of wasabi and regular masago on the outside and the rice wasn't too sticky.

There also was a selection of Italian style antipasto including a caprese type salad with balsamic sprinkles buffalo mozzarella, marinated artichokes and pickled onions that looked like olives. The artisan cheeses were plentiful and assorted. The highlight was the cheddar-Stilton that was incredibly creamy and flavorful - perhaps the best blue I've had in a long time. Selections of muffins, pastries, bagels, savory rolls and popovers were available that looked delicious, but the cardinal rule of buffet eating is to be careful with the amount of breads and crackers you fill up on. The pastries and breads were a nice individual size, about a third of the usual monstrosities you find in bakeries and the one apple danish I tried was crispy on the outside and flaky with a good filling to dough ratio. It was overheard that the almond-filled croissants were "to die for."

Next came the breakfast type foods. I am taking you through the way the stations were presented rather than the way meals are usually eaten. The cheese blintzes were little pillows of sunshine. There was a hot tray of sausage links and unusually large bacon slices that must have come from hogs the size of cows. The warming trays at this place are the silver round domed types that are easy to open and close and that holds in the steam to keep things from getting overly dried out in this desert climate. There was a dome of hash browns, I believe, but I don't think anyone tried them. Like many of the TCBC members, I prefer my hash browns crispy and there is no way that a warming dome will leave any semblance of a crunch in the potatoes (Amadeus note: I had some and they were actually quite good and crispy, much to my surprise). A silver dome of dollar pancakes and waffles were also on the table with fruit, whipped cream, butter, sour cream, almonds etc for garnish. These also get a little soft but the staff seemed to be doing an excellent job rotating in fresh pans. The made-to-order omelets looked very fluffy and, of course, Egg Beaters or egg whites were available for the health conscious. Although I am not typically an eggs Benedict fan, I liked the fact that these were made to order in the kitchen. Gross tubs of greasy Hollandaise under heat lamps is one of the most disgusting prospects of breakfast buffets. None of us thought to order the Benedict since there were so many other things to try.

Finally, the dessert station which was the station the furthest from our table. (The long walk counts as exercise, right?) Although you might be lured by the siren song of the chocolate fountain with your choice of strawberries, 'Nilla wafers, Oreos and marshmallows for dipping, you will soon discover that there are many more treasures to be found. A made to order bananas foster station using Myers rum and vanilla bean ice cream was popular with those who like bananas and fire. There was an assortment of chocolate tortes and cheesecakes as well as many individually sized tartlettes, chocolate confections, petit fours, creme brulees, mousses and trifles. Hits included the dark chocolate pots de creme that was rich and flavorful without being overly sweet and a milk chocolate mousse that was light and fluffy. For myself, Amadeus, and I believe Jimmy and Judy, the individual key lime tartlette was a true highlight - made of real citrusy lime curd with a nice acidic bite accented with a wedge of lime and some whipped cream on top. There was also a small container of hot chocolate that you could pour a shot from, but Nancy felt that it was just a little too sweet and not as satisfying as the other treats. At this point in the meal, it was very important to share and learn from other's mistakes.

Overall, I think that everyone truly enjoyed themselves and ate too much. We contemplated the feasibility of taking a nap in Jimmy and Judy's room before returning or going for a lap around the block, but instead had a little more champagne and powered through. What truly made this champagne brunch sublime was the fact that everything was executed well and there was a plethora of gems for any palate to enjoy (unless you are looking for the perfect hash browns). If Jimmy, Judy, Rachael and Amadeus wanted to find the best breakfast brunch in Denver, I think that they might have found it today. A great way to end 2 years of graduate school for Amadeus, Jessica and myself with delicious food, good conversation and fantastic family and friends.

Picture Me Shouting This From the Rooftops of the World

2009-05-23T11:19:00.005-05:00

Stabby's Cafe
4159 Cedar Ave S
Minneapolis
612.722.1150

Sometimes you want truffle oil and garlic infused egg whites and elegant table cloths and waiters who stand at your elbows until they can simultaneously set down your plates and immediately whip out matching tall pepper grinders for your leafy greens. Sometimes you want to be able to say, "Oh, waiter, could I please have a black napkin? I don't want white lint on my fancy pants." Sometimes you want wild mushrooms sauteed just so and then folded carefully inside of exquisitely prepared omelets flavored with local specialty cheeses.

Of course, you mostly feel this way on mornings when the Breakfast Club treasurers are present to take care of your bill. On mornings like this one, when a depleted club meets in the mid morning after a late Friday night, what we want is far more utilitarian. What we want is to take care of the pangs of hunger with a simple plate of good, solid food, served without hoopla in a clean and simple environment. Enter Stabby's, the new restaurant on 42nd and Cedar.

Surprisingly, Perley and Jill agreed to my suggestion to eat there, even though they both thought I called it "Scabby's" on the phone. This is trust, people. Don't underestimate its power.

Anyway, Stabby's is a brand new restaurant, which is apparently attempting to attain fame by serving Flint-style chili dogs at lunch time, but more to the point, they also serve breakfast from a menu littered with puns and exclamation points. I can't really tell you what's on the menu, because, as I often do, especially when I'm hungry, I stopped reading after I saw what I wanted: CBH - corned beef hash.

Now, when you go to a fancy place, they corn the beef themselves, and serve it to you in chunks that are shaped like meat, so you can appreciate their efforts and not confuse it with the stuff in the can. Problem is, I grew up on corned beef hash in a can, and a big part of me believes that everything in corned beef hash should be cut into little cubes and served crispy with eggs on top. This is the kind of corned beef has you get from Stabby, and it was exactly what I wanted. It was perfectly crisped, doled out into the exact size I needed (which isn't huge), and served with two lovely over-easy eggs.

Sarah got banana buttermilk pancakes, and she, too, enjoyed her meal. Apparently there are multiple flavors of cakes at Stabby's. I didn't get that far in the menu. I don't usually eat pancakes at restaurants, but for those who do, Sarah endorses the way the place from Flint does its cakes.

Perley valiantly fought his urge to get the steak and eggs (too predictable), and instead ordered biscuits and gravy, which he was happy to get because he knew the gravy would be flavored with real sausage and not with mushrooms. He's been living the Uptown lifestyle too long.

Jill got the standard breakfast with spicy hashbrowns. Not to go on and on about the potatoes, but the one bite she shared with me crunched loudly enough that I could hear it in my head. The cajun spices in the browns also added to my enjoyment. I predict with confidence that I will be eating Stabby's hashbrowns again someday. The only thing we were served this morning that didn't get entirely consumed at our table was Jill's blueberry biscuit, which she said was too dry.

It was perhaps the lowered expectations of a club without its fancier members, but we left with comfortable bellies and happy tastebuds. It's not a fancy place, but it does know how to cook delicious diner food, and the size of its bill was definitely within our grasp, even after a night of cocktails. We're left with the question, is it easier to get an A if you forget about trying to impress with fancy homemade ketchup and instead just crisp up some hash and serve it with a bottle of the store-bought stuff without all that fuss?

Really? That's What You Want to Call It?

2009-05-19T19:10:00.002-05:00

Has anyone been to this Stabby's? 'Cause every time I drive by I do a double take trying to think of a worse name for a cafe. Still, don't worry. We'll be eating there sometime soon, and we'll get to the bottom of this naming thing. And if it's any good, we'll shout "Stabby's" from the rooftops of the world (no matter how ridiculous that sounds).

Besides, you gotta give them a nod for daring to open a new restaurant in this economy - and another nod for opening on the cursed corner of 42nd and Cedar, former home of the dearly departed Boathouse and also Isabel's (may she rest in peace).

Sorry about the long silence. I'm coaching the math every Saturday, so there hasn't been a breakfast club in a long while. This weekend, Amadeus graduates from his school in Denver. The full club will be reunited in June, at which point we'll entertain you with tales of breakfasts around town.

Until then, enjoy the heat. Or the AC if that's your deal.

Edinabox

2009-02-15T12:23:00.004-06:00

The Chatterbox Pub
4501 France Ave S
Minneapolis
(612)920-3221

Sarah and I live withing walking distance of the original Chatterbox. We love how it feels like a basement from the late seventies or early eighties. We like to get tall Chatterboxes and eat burgers and sit on the narrow patio with our buddies. The Chatterbox is a bar designed for our exact demographic - the Atari generation. You can even play old favorite Atari games while you eat and drink there. It's not unusual to get distracted by crowds of people exactly our age showing off all of those Frogger skills they perfected in basements all over the city when they were small. However, the original Chatterbox has an unfortunate ventilation problem, which even though it has improved over the years, especially in light of the smoking ban, still forces you to leave the 'Box with remnants of it on your clothes and in your hair. No problem. Just take a shower when you get home and have that one outfit you wear to the Chatterbox and wrap it in plastic or dump it in the washer as soon as you possibly can after you get over that tall Chatterbox.

Well, these abatement measures are too much for Rachael, so she's the one who suggested that we try the new Chatterbox at 45th and France this morning. I noticed first that, much like the Chatterbox branch in St. Paul, this place is part of a strip mall. Both of the Chatterbox branches have less basement charm of the original. I hate to sound like a snob (or do I?), but the old garage sale couches and outdated video systems look somewhat ridiculous hooked up to modern flat screen TVs. Like the place in St. Paul, the Linden Hills one is crawling with children. It's not the hip, singles hang-out that our neighborhood place is. So the trade-off: You drive farther to eat surrounded by short people in a strip mall with a much less-authentic rec-room feel, but you don't come home with grease in your hair. Doesn't seem like a fair trade to me, but I may just be loyal to my neighborhood bar, indoor air pollution and all.

As for food, well, I've never loved Chatterbox food all that much. Too bready are their burger buns. Too salty are their fries. Too expensive are their checks. You're paying for the atmosphere more than you are for the food. Case in point, $2.25 for a cup of coffee. Bottomless, but still. It's served in a clear mug (which irritates more than one breakfast club member, but not, strangely, me), and it tastes not nearly good enough to cost almost twice as much as it should. I'm actually happy to pay for the Chatterbox atmosphere, when the Chatterbox atmosphere is people my age playing board games and geekily showing off their outdated video game skills. I'm less happy to pay to watch other people's children eat breakfast or zone out to video games while their parents eat.

Which is not to say that I pay for Breakfast Club outings, but anyway...

So, we had two orders of steak and eggs. ("How is the steak?" "Ehh. OK.") We had two hashes, one chicken and one roast beef. The chicken one looked better than the beef. ("Do you want a box for that [nearly full plate of food]?" "Oh, no that's OK." "Are you done with it?" "Yep.") Sarah had something called cheesy goodness. It arrived looking cheesy and good. Beau and Judy had a couple of sausage breakfast sandwiches served with sweet potato fries. The sweet potato fries were easily the hit of the table. Fingers swooped in for tastes. The fries were crispy and tasted like something you might get at the State Fair. They prompted a discussion: Do you eat them with ketchup? Do you eat them with mustard? Do you eat them on a boat? Do you eat them with a goat?

My favorite part of the meal was my buttermilk biscuit. It was actually all I wanted to eat after a bite or two of hash. I should have just ordered some biscuits and honey. What was I thinking?

OK, onto the grades.

Beau ~ breakfast sandwich with sweet potato fries ~ B ~ He wanted to give it a higher grade, but by the end his stomach felt like it was going to explode. He liked his fries.
Judy ~ same as Beau ~ C ~ She didn't like the sausage. She did, however, have a strawberry mimosa which she enjoyed, but she'd been up all night on call, and if she's not sleeping right now, I'd eat a whole plate of hash.
Rachael ~ chicken hash ~ B- ~ Didn't taste good. Too heavy. She liked the biscuit and Beau's fries. I for one have never seen Beau share fries, so he must kind of like her.
Alex ~ beef hash ~ C+ ~ The fries were good. The biscuit was good. After a bite or two, the hash was not so much what I wanted to eat.
Jimmy ~ steak and eggs ~ C
Sarah ~ Cheesy Goodness Frittata ~ B- ~ Too heavy.
Perley ~ steak and eggs ~ C (with a B+ for the atmosphere because he likes games.)

Perley's line about his meal resonated with more than one of us. He said that his grade went down the more of it he ate. You could argue that a club full of adults should know their own limits. Or you could argue that a restaurant like the Chatterbox needs to lighten up a little bit on the breakfast so we can leave ready to tackle the day instead of wanting to head right back to bed.

P.S. While I am aware that the Linden Hills location is technically in Minneapolis, if you're going to park your SUVs and minivans out front, I'm going to call you Edina. It's only fair.

Hair of the Bulldog

2009-02-04T16:44:00.003-06:00

Today's post is brought to you by Jill, a regular Breakfast Club member who has never before written a post for us. Please welcome her. We need more writing members around here, especially since Beau lives in Denver, and I have gotten so lazy about writing reviews of late.

Bulldog NE
401 E Hennepin Ave
Minneapolis
612.378.2855

There is nothing quite so exciting to our group as a new breakfast joint. However, an established joint expanding their menu to include brunch is probably the next best thing in the absence of the former. This is what had brought us to the Bulldog N.E. We walked in to the Bulldog N.E. expecting that the general public would be as excited about this new menu as we were. What we found wasn’t quite crickets but it was close. We helped ourselves to one of several open high-top tables-for-six and basked in the warm sunlight streaming through the large windows facing Hennepin Avenue. The Bulldog N.E.is quite a charmless place but I suppose it fills a niche in Northeast by being neither a grimy dive nor a polka bar. And as Jimmy became involuntarily hypnotized by the large flat-screen TV that I’m sure has never strayed from ESPN, it dawned on me why this place was so empty: it was noon on Super Bowl Sunday (a “national holiday”) and we are in a sports bar while everyone else was out shopping for chips and dip.

We were brought menus and ice water. We all scanned the menu and all simultaneously either said or thought, “Where is the brunch menu?” My heart sank when we discovered it in the middle of the table, roughly the size of a 99 cent greeting card with 26-font sized words on it. I did not count the number of brunch dish choices but, if I were hard-pressed, I would say there were four. It took about 37 seconds for the group to contemplate their brunch choices and return to scanning the regular menu.

The lip of Alex’s water glass was dirty, and she had a hard time concentrating on anything else, understandably. I was sipping on quite possibly the worst cup of coffee I had ever been served, but then again it arrived in a clear-glass coffee mug, against which I have a prejudice. Good coffee never comes in clear glass coffee mugs. Why is that? The mimosas were gigantic and they must have been good because Sarah was acting uncharacteristically giddy, and even flirting with the waiter. Jimmy was still hypnotized by the TV showing an endless loop of college basketball highlights, a subject about which I know he cares little. Perley was also sipping on the bad coffee wondering aloud why anyone would patron a bar called Whitey’s. Judy was navigating her humongous mimosa and telling us of how difficult is was to give a pregnant dog an ultrasound, you know, with all the hair and all.

We began to order. I needed to go last because, upon hearing that the bacon-thyme maple syrup actually had chunks of bacon in it, I needed to make another choice. By the end three burgers, one BLT, a brunch frittata, and a plate of corncakes (with plain pancake syrup) had been ordered.

The burgers, all made with Kobe beef, were an enormous hit as was the BLT. Sarah gave her meal an A+ and would have given it a higher grade if it were possible (whether this was Sarah or the mimosa talking, we’ll never know). The accompanying French fries were also good. They seemed fresh cut, thick, and not overcooked. The tater tots were also good but everyone agreed that it was difficult to screw up a tater tot as long as your cooking oil was fresh. Alex did not make any direct comments about her frittata but judging from her 75%-cleared plate, she enjoyed it but not enough to exclaim so. My corncakes were okay but I guess I was expecting pancakes made from cornmeal not flour pancakes dotted occasionally with corn kernels. I always tend to order sweet rather than savory breakfast dishes but I really should steer away from pancakes. Like the tater tots, pancakes are not exemplary of a chef’s prowess. To console myself about the poor decision I had made I ordered a glass of prosecco which was easily the highlight of my meal, not counting the conversation about ultrasounding a dog.

The moral of this story is: if you are in the mood for a breakfast joint where you have a hard time deciding what to order because oh-my-gosh everything here is so good, go to Bryant Lake Bowl. If you are in the mood for a good burger and a large screen TV, by all means, go to the Bulldog N.E. because we don’t have enough of those kinds of joints around, do we?

-Jill
2/1/09

Bakery Monday

2009-01-13T20:05:00.005-06:00

A friend asked me recently where to get good pastry on a Monday. I must admit that my first reaction was to scoff. I do that sometimes. I scoff. I said something like, "A bakery that's open on Monday? That's like saying, 'Gee, I really want to look at some incomprehensible modern art, but the Walker is closed on Mondays. Where should I go to do that on a Monday?'"

Still, who hasn't been there? It's a cold winter morning after a weekend, and you can barely open your eyes which causes you to push the snooze button on your alarm so many times that there is no way you're going to have time to make yourself breakfast, so you rush off to A Baker's Wife with your reusable mug in hand, prepared to grab an emergency croissant and a cup of coffee, and you try to shove open the door, only to find that once again it's locked. It's still closed on Mondays, just like it was last week.

Or maybe you experience this same weekly trauma at Rustica, the other best bakery in town. At Rustica the pain is a little more bittersweet, I imagine, because it's attached to Java Jack's, which for some unknown reason has nasty-looking decidedly non-Rustica pastries behind its counter. (Full disclosure. I have never had Java Jack's pastries. Maybe they are delicious. They don't look delicious.)

Now, first of all, I want to make it perfectly clear that I fully support the bakers' right to take Mondays off. Bakers get up well before the ass-crack of dawn in order to make all of those deliciously addictive concoctions that you want to buy so early in the morning. Most bakers work through the weekend, because the weekend is when you want to buy their chocolate croissants and creme brulee danishes and cherry with dark chocolate scones. So if the bakers need Monday to recharge, then I say, give it to them. Heck, I'd even give them Tuesday if they asked me for it.

But, still, we have the dilemma. We're standing in the street with our reusable mug and our empty stomachs. We're tired and we have to get to work, but we need something to eat. So where should we go? Where can we get even remotely acceptable pastries, when all of the best bakers we know take Monday off?

All I could offer to my friend, after I got done scoffing, was this: Butter Bakery Cafe, which is a coffee shop with Big Breakfast Dreams, and which has the best chocolate eclair around, and which has some pretty darn good scones, too, is open on Mondays. Go to Butter, I said. You won't be sorry.

But where else can you go? Where, gentle reader, do you go when you find yourself without access to your usual bakery addictions on a Monday? How do you fill your stomachs when counters at Rustica are empty and the doors at the Baker's Wife are closed?

Perfect Waffles

2008-12-06T19:33:00.003-06:00

Amadeus doesn't order waffles in restaurants any more. Or, I should say, he tries not to, but every once in a while, he slips, and accidentally tries them one more time. Restaurant waffles are invariably disappointing. Why it's so difficult to get this breakfast staple right is a mystery, but I suspect that it actually has something to do with our family's idiosyncratic taste in waffles. While the rest of America thinks of Buckwheat as an Eddie Murphy character, we actually like it in our pancakes and waffles. We like our waffles thin, not Belgian style. We don't look for unusual ingredients in our waffles, no squash and goat cheese, no mandarin orange peel and candied ginger. We just like them generously heaped with butter and real maple syrup.

And, so, I present to you a recipe for Perfect Waffles. Follow these steps exactly as written, and you will not be disappointed.

TCBCB Perfect Waffles

2 c. organic buckwheat pancake/waffle mix
(or 1 c. mix and 1 c. white flour and 1 t. baking powder and 1/4 t. salt)
2 eggs
4 T melted butter
1 3/4 c. buttermilk
(or 1 1/2 cups of yogurt/sour cream and 1/2 cup milk)
some vanilla
2 t honey

1. Run in a 5K race. Ideally, the race should take place in December. It should be late enough in the morning that your pre-race breakfast has long since worn off by the time you fight the post-race crowds back to your car.

2. Remove 2 cups of organic buckwheat pancake/waffle mix from the package. Put it in a bowl. Hide the package, so no one thinks you use a mix. Depending on the strength of the buckwheat flavor you desire, you could dilute the mix with some white flour and supplemental baking powder and salt.

3. Separate two eggs. This is a meditative process. It might be the closest I ever come to praying. "Please don't break," becomes my mantra as I pass the yolk between the two halves of the shell and allow the pure egg white to fall into the bowl below. If your whites get contaminated by even the slightest hint of broken yolk, you must wash the bowl and start over.

4. Melt 4 tablespoons of butter and allow to cool.

5. Whisk together the egg yolks and the 1 3/4 cups of buttermilk.

5.5. Realize that you don't have buttermilk. You're too hungry to shop now. Create some out of as much sour cream as you have left over from last time you had chili, yogurt, and 1/2 cup milk. You'll need about two cups of this mutant buttermilk, because it's thicker than real buttermilk.

6. Add the melted butter to the eggs and buttermilk. Add some vanilla. I don't know how much. Add a couple of teaspoons of honey.

7. Beat the egg whites into stiff peaks. I use a hand-crank egg beater for this job. Jimmy uses a wire whisk and his strong forearms. I once did it in a dorm room using only a fork and the strength of my will. If you're modern (or married), I suppose you might use an electric mixer. I'm a single girl. I use what I have. Note that however you do it, this step is not optional. Cookbooks always say that it is. If you're making perfect waffles, however, it is so essential, you'd do it with a fork.

8. Combine the egg yolk mixture and the flour (waffle mix) in as few strokes as possible. Add more milk if it's too thick.

9. Fold in the beaten egg whites. This is like tucking in a small child. Gentleness is the key. You don't want to startle the bubbles out of your egg whites.

10. Cook the waffles in the family waffle iron. There is some dispute in our family about who gets the waffle iron after Jimmy dies. It's best of course, to just assume that Jimmy will live forever.^* You will know when the waffles are done not because of some timer or indicator light on your waffle iron, but because you can ease it open without destroying the waffle. Test it first by gently trying to lift the lid. If it doesn't pull away from your waffle, close it again and walk away. It's too soon. Try not to think about how hungry you are for two more minutes.

11. Serve immediately with butter and warmed-up real maple syrup. Or eat it yourself. You earned it.

PS Make sure someone is on bacon duty while you do all of this. You're going to want some nice crispy bacon to go with these waffles. Enjoy!

^*And when forever is over, I'm older than Amadeus and Jake doesn't want it, so I should get it.

This Bank Doesn't Need a Bailout

2008-11-22T11:25:00.016-06:00

Bank

88 South 6th Street
Minneapolis, MN 55402
612.656.3255

It's becoming more and more difficult for us to find a new restaurant to review on these pages. Beau and Perley did the footwork this morning, littering the browser in the kitchen with a quartet of tabs each open to a different restaurant we haven't reviewed. Then, they washed their hands of deciding which one we would try, leaving that hard work to the rest of the assembled team. After one false start - the Checkered Apron doesn't serve breakfast on weekends - we decided upon Bank in downtown Minneapolis.

As far as impressive atmosphere goes, Bank certainly beats any place we've eaten in a long time. It's located in an old bank building (where both Jimmy and Judy had childhood savings accounts) with vaulted ceilings, and a real bank vault that has been turned into a wine cellar. The scale of the room makes you feel insignificant, an effect heightened by the dismissive efficiency of our waiter. He seemed to not-hear every request we made this morning, but at the moment we had resigned ourselves to not-receiving whatever we had desired, he would deposit it without fanfare at our elbow. Bank is also in the Westin hotel lobby. I actually really like eating breakfast in hotel restaurants, because you can be surrounded by opulence, and still not feel at all self-conscious about your ratty old dog-walking clothes or your unkempt hair. Other diners appear, freshly tumbled from their hotel sheets, wearing less-than-glamorous apparel, and no one looks out of place even in sweatpants and ratty pony tails.

Our cool, but efficient waiter offered us the choice of eating from the buffet or ordering off of the menu. We wouldn't be Breakfast Club if the buffet would satisfy us, but several of our members did stroll by the counter before soundly rejecting the idea of eating eggs off of a warming table. We each ordered from the menu.

Judy got yogurt and fruit. She gave her meal an A-. Her only complaint was a slight mechanical difficulty in removing grapes from the stem after they had been smothered in yogurt. I've said this before, but I really don't know how she grades such a meal. I do know that the presence of melon in her fruit cup will lower her grade, as will any sweetener in the yogurt. If you, too, dislike melon, while enjoying the bitter taste of plain yogurt, then by all means take Judy's yogurt grade to heart.

Jimmy and Perley both ordered the steak (rare) and eggs (over-easy). In our family, we seem to enjoy animal juices with our breakfast. Both were happy with their meals. I can attest to the tastiness of the steak, because I was able to sample one bite from each of them. Jimmy's grade was a B+. He proclaimed it the best meal he's ever had in a former bank. Perley gave it an A, because he couldn't complain about any food on his plate.

Oh! Did I mention that the steak and eggs came with hash browns? If you know our crew at all then you know that we take our potatoes seriously. Ideally they should be fresh, fluffy grated potatoes encased in a not-too-greasy crispy outer shell. Today's hash browns were standouts among the breakfast potatoes we've eaten in the city. We ate them with gusto, and sometimes with a little bit of greed. Who knows when the market will crash, leaving us without such tasty bits of hash-browned perfection?

Rachael, Sarah, and Amadeus all ordered benedict meals. Rachael's came with fish and shrimp cakes, while Sarah's and Beau's were more traditional. Rachael gave hers a B+ and called it

"mass-produced". Sarah's B+ stemmed from a yearning for more Hollandaise. Beau gave his an A-, its perfection only marred by slightly too-cooked yolks.

With all of this happiness around me, I was the only club member not pleased with my food. Because I loved the bites I had of other peoples' potatoes and steak, I am willing to accept that my disappointment came from what I chose to order rather than any fault on Bank's part, and so it was OK that I spoiled my secret-grading ballot by writing in "lizard people". I will, however, quietly request that if you go, you stay away from the smoked salmon, bagel, and cream cheese. I have a no-fish-for-breakfast rule, anyway, which I thought was only proven by its exception for salmon. The new rule may have to be no-fish-for-breakfast-not-even-salmon.

Back to Our Roots

2008-10-26T11:32:00.003-05:00

Seward Cafe
2129 East Franklin Ave
Minneapolis
612.332.1011

When we were kids, we lived in a series of homes with a lot of cheap, used ("antique") furniture. I remember when we moved to the suburbs briefly, a lot of our furniture didn't work with our new suburban lifestyle, so for a long time there was very little furniture in our house. We had never had a "family room" in the inner city. One of Jake's friends came over just after we moved, and he asked where all of our furniture was, and poor Jake had to stammer out some excuse, because the real answer ("We don't have any") made us sound inadequate.

At any rate, before that time in suburbia, when we lived with mismatched chairs in old drafty houses, we ate a lot of healthy hippie food, like sprouts and black beans. It was always good food, close to the earth, and hearty. We had pork products straight from the farm, and brown eggs with chicken shit and feathers stuck to the shells. When we asked for pop, Jimmy and Judy would mix grape juice and sparkling water and tell us how lucky we were to have homemade pop. "Homemade" meant "real" food, like the whole-wheat bread that came out of Jimmy's oven and his delicious pies with woven crusts. "Homemade" carried echoes of cast iron pans, blackened with the seasoning of a lifetime of delicious food. It meant side pork, the mouth-watering uncured bacon from Janice's farm that we tore into pieces and stuffed into the yolks of our free-range over-easy eggs. Sure, we knew that we were missing Coca-Cola, and we saw our own mother order it in restaurants, but somehow, we still fell for the allure of homemade pop at home.

There is a place where we can go to experience this kind of living, even today, even now that Jimmy and Judy's furniture matches itself and their home. This place is called the Seward Cafe. It's been the same since before I can remember. You order at the counter from some overly-pierced college kid, who sends it to the kitchen where body art, dreads, face-metal, and earnestness about organic food abound. Eventually, when your food is good and ready, they call your name out, and you go and pick it up at the counter. You clear your own table, too, just like you did at home, back when the three kids rotated the jobs of washer, dryer, and everything-elser. And just like it was back when pre-teens held the job of everything-elser, the tables might not always be totally free of stickiness. The used furniture doesn't match. The piano stays closed, and I suspect it hasn't been tuned in a long, long time, but it makes a nice plant rack. There's a corner for the kiddies full of beat up old toys. These are the kind of toys that strengthen your immune system and keep you from needing to live in an antibacterial world.

Oh, but the food, just like back home, the food seems to deserve the label of "homemade", even though it's made at a restaurant. It's solid, hearty food, made by those tattooed organic heroes in the back, with as much care as you can expect from a line cook, with good local ingredients. The good news for me is that someone back there knows how to keep hash browns in the pan long enough to really brown them. The really good news is that it's the Seward, so we know that the trick to that crispy brownness doesn't involve trans-fats. It's all just honest hippie food. Years ago when we went there, Jimmy ordered a side of sausage. It arrived at the window garnished with a pile of sprouts. The sprouts seemed to be a message from the staff, "It's better not to eat meat, but if you really must, here are some delicious non-factory farm raised pork sausages along with a reminder that you get more nutrition from green things." Jimmy didn't eat the sprouts.

Our individual grades have fled my memory, but they hovered in the B+/A- range. Feel free to comment if you were there and you remember them. For me, the grade reflected my fondness for crispy potatoes as much as it did my nostalgia for my childhood.

A blog by any other name...

2008-09-12T15:05:00.002-05:00

We have a new address. Please update your bookmarks. Thank you, carry on.

Sincerely,
Twin Cities Breakfast Club

What Is Art?

2008-08-31T11:46:00.004-05:00

Chambers Kitchen Restaurant
901 Hennepin Avenue
Minneapolis, MN 55403
612.767.6999

Is it art to place a horse's head in a black-framed glass box of formaldehyde? Is it art to pose people in a cafe and then film them holding as still as possible for the amount of time it takes for a cigarette to burn down to a pile of ash? Is a lifelike bust of an elderly gentleman, so real it seems like you could feel his pulse below the "skin", art? How about garbage bags cast in bronze and painted to look like, well, garbage bags? Is that art? Is your definition of art broad enough to include a dirty Target-brand towel taped to a pillar with the end of a roll of packing tape?

Or, are you like me, and do you prefer your art to come molded out a good old American spud, crisped to perfection and either shaped like a fry or a breakfast potato and served with a vat of ketchup? Would you like your art to come arranged on a plate of lox and cream cheese with a bagel, or would you like it folded carefully into a Gruyere omelet?

If your definition of art includes any of these things, then you will find it on display at the Chambers, a posh modern hotel/restaurant/art gallery in downtown Minneapolis.

We arrived at 9:30, hungry, after a failed attempt to eat at the Mill City Cafe. The Mill Citians are on vacation, perhaps avoiding Republican hoards, or perhaps just enjoying the summer's last hurrah, but either way, their doors are chained shut, and the decision to eat at the Chambers came, after a short emergency conference in the street, from our birthday girl, Judy, who showed unusual decisiveness - only suggesting three places before landing upon this downtown restaurant. Judy's kind of a high-class breakfast person, so I wasn't surprised to walk in and find a clean white modern room complete with well-dressed waiters waiting to pull out our chairs for us. I was surprised to find the place completely devoid of Republicans. The Chambers seems like a great place to spend your untaxed capital gains, but we were the only people in the room when we arrived. Maybe the horse's head scared them away. It is pretty frightening. Look at me, empathizing with Republicans.

Anyway, the Chambers experience is about more than the food, but the food is high end stuff. It costs more than I would pay for myself ($14 for eggs benedict), but I wasn't paying, so it doesn't feel real to complain about the value of my meal. Still, you have been warned. This is the kind of place where you should con your corporate boss or your rich parents into buying you a meal. It's not the kind of place where you want to spend your own hard-earned Democrat cash.

So, here's the breakdown...

Jimmy ~ bagel, cream cheese and smoked salmon ~ B ~ his food was good, but there was a certain Disaster in which his order was lost. When you're in the middle of a food panic, it's hard to take such a Disaster with grace. Jimmy did his best, but the grade suffered because he had to watch us all eat while he had nothing.

Perley ~ standard breakfast and sausage links ~ A ~ he can't complain about the quality of the food.

Rachael ~ garlic and chili noodles ~ B+ ~ She liked her food and leaned towards an A- had the Disaster not occurred. She also described the Chambers as the Walker with food, which took a little bit of the sting out of the price of the meal. Think of it as cost of admission.

Judy ~ yogurt and granola ~ A- ~ I'm still mystified about how Judy can grade such a mundane breakfast, but she described it as "perfect". The minus is Disaster-related. We're an empathetic lot.

Sarah ~ cheeseburger ~ B ~ she didn't finish the burger, and I'm not sure whether that affected her grade.

Alex ~ gruyere omelet ~ A- ~ I wanted more cheese in my omelet, but, come on, people, these potatoes are beautifully crispy and delicious. Can't we stop focusing on the Disaster for a minute, and see the artestry behind their creation? Aren't perfect potatoes what brings this family together? Of course, maybe it's my own fault that the potatoes didn't get more play. After all, it's not like I was willing to share them.

Feel free to add half a grade to our grades if, like me, you think a Disaster is unlikely to strike twice in the same place.

Uh, sorry, New Orleans.

Hail, Citizen! Well Met.

2008-08-12T21:30:00.002-05:00

Citizen Cafe
2403 East 38th Street
Minneapolis, MN 55407
612.729.1122

There's a new restaurant in my neighborhood. It used to be Sweet Loraine's, which was so bad that even though it was two blocks away, I couldn't go there, ever. Now it's a new place, with humble signage, called Citizen Cafe. I must preface this review by saying that the Citizen Cafe is so convenient that I gave it three tries before I made any judgments. It's new. It serves local food, and it has a real chef, and more importantly I can walk there. Sweet Loraine's just had factory farmed meat and eggs and a grease pit of some sort.

The first time we went, we noticed right away that Sweet Loraine is no more. From new arts and crafts style furniture to oddly pleasing light fixtures, the place has undergone a transformation. We were, that day, still the youngest people in the joint, but the old-timer diner customers might soon be crowded out by hipsters, because the food is new and different, too. Jimmy had some pate and scallops that he loved. I had a sandwich and the bread was blah. Why a small restaurant would skimp on bread, while at the same time serving up delicious pate and scallops is beyond me. Judy also had problems with the bread, but the waitress was kind (and prompt and efficient), offering her a phone and excessive sympathy because Judy had just left her cell phone and her wallet in the changing room at Midwest Mountaineering. Of course, Jimmy and I had sympathy for Judy, too, but if you know Jude long enough, you know that there will be so many small panics over lost items that it gets harder and harder to get too worried. In short, we didn't let Judy's catastrophe ruin our lunch. Bad bread, on the other hand. Well...

The second time I went, I had breakfast by myself on the most excellent patio. I ordered a fried egg sandwich, which was served on ciabata bread. It arrived, and the bread had been branded with the Citizen logo. I thought this was a good sign. You wouldn't want to brand that crappy bread they offered us the first time. Indeed the bread was better, although it was a little too, um, bready for a fried egg sandwich. Also, the egg was over-easy, so the yolk dripped all over my plate, making my sandwich unnecessarily gooey and sloppy. I thought over-hard was industry standard for fried egg sandwiches. Am I wrong? In the future, I will order it that way. The sandwich came with some sage sausage that was ever so delicious. In fact the few bites with no sausage weren't worth eating, but the bites with sausage were flavorful and hearty. Also, the waitress (different waitress) was especially kind and efficient, which I appreciated since I was eating alone and 20% of one breakfast just doesn't work out to be a very big tip.

Today, I ordered the house-made gravlax, which came with creme fraiche and pumpernickel toast points. My serving of gravlax was generous and absolutely perfect. It was salmony without being fishy. The texture was just right. I had six pieces of this wonderful delight. However, I only had five itsy-bitsy toast points, so I had to eat that last slice on its own, wrapped around a healthy scoop of creme fraiche. There are worse fates, but still, I wonder, with toast being the least expensive portion of my meal, why does bread remain such a problem for the good citizens of Citizen Cafe? Judy got the granola with berries on top. She proclaimed it the best granola she's ever had at a restaurant. I'm a little bit against ordering granola at a restaurant - why go out if only to eat cereal? - but she's a big fan of it, so this is high praise from Judy.

Anyway, A Baker's Wife is just down the street. Maybe someday, Citizen Cafe will get its bread from Gary. If that ever happens, this small neighborhood joint will rival the best restaurants in town. They already have the showier items on the menu down pat. It's bread, quiet unassuming bread, that needs some work. Still, I have to give them an A-. The minus is for the bread, and the A is only partly influenced by the uber-convenient location.

P.S. Only one word in this post has Hungarian derivation. Can you find it?

P.P.S. I've eaten there one more time since writing this post. My new grade is a B. Don't get the corned beef. It's not what you think it's going to be.

Flame Broiled

2008-08-02T12:29:00.010-05:00

St Clair Broiler
1580 Saint Clair Ave
St Paul, MN 55105
651.698.7055

Breakfast club was bursting at the seams this weekend, a full table of eight. Having a large number of members has benefits and costs. Benefits being a large boisterous table and good conversation topics, e.g. the universal hatred of drivers trying to turn left into the Wedge parking lot at 5 in the afternoon on a weekday. Costs being a limited number of options that wouldn't involve an interminable wait and of course, the more people there are, the more vetos that can be wielded. Since this is my last breakfast club before returning to Denver for the beginning of the school year, my only requirement was to choose a place that had not yet been reviewed on this here blog.

This was accomplished far more easily than usual. Rachael, Perley, Jill, and I did all of the heavy lifting as some members of the club took their sweet a$$ time getting to the meeting spot from the dog park, hospital, and their soft and warm beds (yay, fewer vetos!). We assembled a list of three places and as the clock approached 9:30 am, we decided that we could not wait for the full group to make a decision. A call was going to have to be made in order to reserve a table. As Perley, Rachael, and I hemmed and hawed and thought of reasons (because were are too weak from hunger?) why we couldn't make a decision, nor actually call and talk to a human being (because we are teeny babies?), Jill coolly took the bull by the horns and reserved a table at the St. Clair Broiler. Anyone who knows Jill knows that she has yet to meet a bull that she unwilling to take by the horns. Jill wins the breakfast club champion award.

We caravaned over to St. Paul and parked, hoping that during our meal the evil St. Paul city wouldn't stop and put a "no parking" sign on the street and then proceed to issue us tickets. I love many, many things about St. Paul, but I do not love their parking "rules". I think rule #1 of the city of St. Paul is, 1) Find any way, no matter how unscrupulous, to screw people who park in their city. In the past I've parked in what seemed to be a legitimate spot in St. Paul that had a meter, fed the meter for the appropriate time only to find a ticket on my car when I returned. I had failed to notice the sign that nullified the meter during a 4 hour period during that day. I love paying for parking twice, that's awesome. It's as though they don't want people to visit their fair city. I blame Norm Coleman. Or maybe they just want to encourage people to visit the city via the public transit system? One can only hope that they ratchet up their parking enforcement (if that is even possible) come September 1-4, 2008.

The St. Clair Broiler is a neighborhood restaurant with a welcoming atmosphere. They serve standard diner comfort food (the meatloaf is supposed to be very good). It is like a non-chain, non-gross version of Perkins. They make extremely good burgers, fries, malts, etc. that Rachael and I have enjoyed for lunch in the past. Sadly their breakfast is hit and miss, mostly miss. Some of the traditional options were acceptable, but the more daring items were disappointing. Club members who made safe choices were relatively pleased with their meals.

I was not one of those people. I ordered the eggs benny and was not happy. The Hollandaise sauce was very disappointing. It tasted more like yellow gravy. They got the rich salty butter flavor, but they missed on the ever-so-important hint of lemon. It also wasn't as smooth as desired. Alex ordered the Florentine and described the Hollandaise sauce as "grainy". Methinks powder might have been involved in making the sauce.

Jimmy and Perley both ordered the steak and eggs. They were not terribly impressed and considered their meals to be average at best. Jill ordered the most traditional of breakfast but had issues with her sausage, specifically the length of time that it was cooked, or not as the case may be. Judy, Rachael, and Fern all went a more traditional route and gave the highest grades.

The potatoes were terrible. They were previously frozen hash browns, which is the kiss of death of potatoes. Once they are cooked, it is impossible to crisp them properly. Even the few servings that were nicely brown didn't really have a good crisp. Yuck. A lot of the low grades were associated with the potato issues.

On a positive note, those that had OJ or a mimosa route gave high praise to the freshly squeezed juice. Very refreshing and delicious. The toast also receive high marks. Even the positives are a bit of an indictment. When the juice and the toast stand out, it doesn't bode well for the rest of the meal.

The St. Clair Broiler is not a restaurant that we will be returning to for breakfast in the near future (or ever?). Too many disappointments to warrant a return trip. If you go here for a meal you would be better off with lunch or dinner for malts and burgers. I this will be my last MN post for the foreseeable future. Hopefully my compatriots will pick up the slack and I won't be too busy with school to report on the wonders of breakfast in Denver.

Grades:
Amadeus-Eggs Benny-C-
Jimmy-Steak and Eggs-C
Judy-One egg, bacon, hashbrowns-B
Rachael-P.J.'s One Egger-B
Fern-French Connection-B
Alex-Eggs Florentine-D
Perley-Steak and Eggs-C+/B-
Jill-Two eggs, sausage, toast, and hash browns-D+

A Tale of Two Stags

2008-07-26T12:53:00.009-05:00

The Red Stag
509 1st Ave NE
Minneapolis, MN 55413
612.767.7766

We had to leave soon after the first baskets had been hauled back up to bridge-level filled with writhing silver fish. I was a sensitive child with a vivid imagination and my dad had just told me about people biting the heads of the fish and squeezing out the guts. At age 8 I didn’t know what a smelt was. “An anchovy is like a smelt that lives in the ocean.” “A smelt is something like a sardine or a mackerel.” Oh, one of those fish in the can with a key that my dad sometimes put in his lunch box. These could also be some of the reasons that I’ve never actually eaten smelt- I loved being able to open a can with a key, but hated the oily tomato sauce slathered on the sardines. Then there is that terrible tickle of tiny bones and slippery fish skin in your mouth, another bad feature. And have you ever noticed that the smaller the fish the more pungent the smell? Any of those reasons including the description of how smelt are cleaned once the schnapps bottle has made the rounds a few times are enough to put me off. I witnessed a smelt run once. I had been fishing all afternoon with my father on what was probably was the very first warm spring day. We had been alone all afternoon, but at dusk the bridge suddenly swarmed with cars. The smelt run was on and it was a complete frenzy. There was a crush of people on the bridge, so many that I kept losing track of my dad among the crowd. Headlights were trained on small groups of people untangling the ropes on wire baskets. Coolers of ice-cold beer were hauled out and were prepared to be filled with freshly "cleaned" smelt...

Luckily, this kind of talk does nothing to dampen appetites of the Breakfast Club and after Perley heartily recommended the Red Stag’s basket of smelt fries (whole and head-on), conversation veered to the much loved Dyson Air Blade (To call the Dyson a hand dryer is an insult. It is a revolutionary water removal system.) and the effects of urinal design on the phenomenon of splashback (Note to men: Give yourself plenty of room, or a wide stance while at the Red Stag).

This was the Club’s second trip to Red Stag and a lesson on how the breakfast experience can be totally changed by making either wise or poor menu choices. In an unusual move for an avowed carnivore, Jimmy ordered a simple bowl of berries along with a glass of orange juice (Grade: B+). He may have been gun shy after his previous experience. Lesson Learned: Never order chicken-fried steak if you do not like chicken-fried steak. You cannot make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear.

Judy, the borderline sugar addict, loved the honey-laced whipped cream on her waffles. She even loved the waffles proclaiming them the best waffles she has ever had-except for Jimmy’s (Grade: A). Lesson Learned: None.

Sarah noted a vast improvement in the temperature of her latte, from lukewarm and unacceptable to delightfully molten. Her vegetarian BLT (Grade: B) was greatly improved by the addition of standard-issue bacon and stood head and shoulders above her previous experience. (Another sandwich now removed from the menu due to its lack of flavor.) Lesson Learned: Ask and ye shall receive.

Perley absolutely loved the lobster and egg salad sandwich (Grade: A+). There is a perfect balance between the elements of creamy and eggy and there the Red Stag is not skimpy with the lobster. This visit also saw a great improvement in the field greens department, which had previously been dressed in pure oil. Lesson Learned: Do not text people at 3am because they will get you back by waking you up for breakfast. This lesson was taught by another club member and not by the Red Stag, but is an important one nonetheless.

Beau and Rachael split an order of green eggs and ham and a lobster salad sandwich. The green eggs etc dish was served with sautéed greens that reminded Beau of rotten salad (of which he has dealt with an astounding amount of recently, though not while at breakfast) (Grade: B-lobster sandwich, C-green eggs). Rachael was picturing a dish straight out of Seuss and was mainly disappointed by her still-overactive imagination but also by the crouton masquerading as a muffin. The lobster egg salad was difficult to share since it was so tasty, more due to sharing issues than presentation. (Grade: A-lobster salad, C-green eggs) Lesson Learned-Beau: Negotiating an agreement to share a meal with your wife can sometimes work out in your favor. Lesson Learned-Rachael: The sultanate of Brunei is also known as the Abode of Peace. It is located on the island of Borneo, and odds are Jimmy is right about geography even if you don’t believe him.

Take These Broken Eggs and Learn to Fry

2008-06-02T10:42:00.005-05:00

Blackbird Cafe
815 W. 50th Street
Minneapolis, MN 55419
612.823.4790

Rachael's job requires her to drive around Minneapolis on an almost daily basis. This allows her to keep a lookout for potential breakfast spots for the club. I personally believe that she keeps a secret list of places to suggest whenever breakfast club is at a loss for a place to go (which is often). Having just returned to Minneapolis for the summer, I specifically requested a new place so could write a post. There was a lot of discussion and few ideas, so Rachael reached into her secret list and threw out the Blackbird Cafe. The rest of the members were intrigued by the fact that it is conveniently located very close to TCBC headquarters. We had some time as we waited for Fern to report to headquarters, so we called ahead and asked if they had a table for six. After some hemming and hawing, they told us that they would try their best. We greatly appreciated their efforts. They must have done a lot to move around the other three people in the restaurant to give us our table. To be fair, our table of six was situated off in the corner away from all the other diners. Is it possible that our reputation is making the rounds? It's as if they knew we would be a problem table with many special requests and frequent snarky comments and loud (for Minn-E-SO-ta) laughter.

Once we were seated and we waiting for our coffee, the group was polled to describe the decor of the Blackbird. We all looked around and took in the painting of fox hunts, multiple mounted antlers, and Chinese lanterns. Jimmy, in a non-PC moment, knocked it out of the park, "It's designed for the British Sporting Chinaman". While breakfast club does not endorse the use of the word Chinaman, we couldn't resist in this particular instance.

The group wasn't deterred by the strange decor and waited for the food with open minds. Everyone was impressed with their food. Rachael, Judy, and I were the least happy with our food. Rachael thought her omelet was a little small and she did not receive the fruit cup that she ordered (and then was too quite to ask for it later). I was punished for ignoring my own personal decree, "Never order French toast unless you are at Barbette". Judy despite many previous failures, ordered the pancakes. She didn't like that every bite was the same, which is kind of the definition of pancakes. Everyone else had rave reviews for the food and I augmented my own personal meal disappointment with bits of everyone else's meal. My sampling of other people's meals confirmed the quality of those dishes.

Blackbird knows potatoes. They make some of the best French fries in the city. Perfect size and salt level and perfectly crispy. The Blackbird fries are a little bit thicker than the Barbette fries. I personally prefer a thicker fry, but the thick fry is more prone to mushiness. They avoid that at the Blackbird and they are wonderfully crispy. The hash browns were also very good. They had an amazing level of crispness on the outside and were soft on the inside with judicious help of butter to aid in flavor. It remains to be seen if this crispy potato trend would remain if there were more people in the restaurant. There seems to be an inverse relationship between the crispiness of the potatoes and pending orders in the restaurant.

The grades represented the almost universally enjoyed meals:
Perley-Country Fried Steak and Eggs-A-
Jimmy-Standard Breakfast-B+
Judy-Daily Special Pancakes-B-
Fern-Crab Salad Sandwich-B+
Rachael-Mushroom Omelet-B-
Amadeus-French Toast-B

The Blackbird receives a full endorsement from the breakfast club. Even the members that were disappointed with their meals were happy. We felt as though it was due to poor ordering more than poor food. Does that make sense? Probably not. Please go to the Blackbird, enjoy their food and feel free to comment on your own analysis of their decor.

Whine Bar

2008-05-25T15:54:00.003-05:00

Lucia's Restaurant and Wine Bar
1432 West 31st Street
Minneapolis
612.825.1572

It's the kind of place whose web site has a flash page intro called "atmosphere". It's the kind of place whose menu only has six breakfast items. It's the kind of place where they carry a tray of fresh pastries to your table right before your food arrives. The kind of place where they'll garnish your scrambled eggs with a tortilla chip "haystack", and they'll arrange your "French-style" omelet so lovingly around its brie cheese and mushroom filling that you'll almost miss the fact that there was nothing really special about the omelet to warrant such care.

We arrived on the verge of death with hunger. Why we allow this to happen to ourselves week after week is beyond me. Judy had an excuse: She was working all night, on call, delivering the babies. I, on the other hand, got up at 6:30, ran for 40 minutes, and then sat around all morning waiting for the club to convene. Did I eat? No, I just drank a cup of coffee. This means that the full effect of the caffeine hit me hours before food arrived to ameliorate it, and so my hunger turned manic and urgent. It also means that our first attempt at finding breakfast at a new spot (Duplex now serves breakfast on weekends), which failed (check that: Dupex now serves breakfast on Sundays), almost made me weep with frustration. Lucia's was open. Jimmy's objections were not strong enough to qualify as a veto, but he did threaten to order two entrées because he's eaten at Lucia's before and he knows the artful arrangements sometimes act as camouflage for small portion size. All of which is to say that our mood upon entering the restaurant was grim, with a side of slap-happy. This was hungry, ornery crew of breakfasters.

Judy's first complaint was about the coffee (skim milk latte). "I hope it's not cold," she said before she even sipped it. Take note: She's obsessive about coffee temperature. Beau just wants a constant refill stream with plenty of cream. Judy wants her coffee to scald her tongue and warm her chronically cold hands through the mug. Perhaps her words were prophetic. By Judy's definition the coffee was cold. Pronounce the word "cold" with a scowl, and you'll know exactly how she felt about this turn of events.

Fern's beef was with the menu. She as you may recall, doesn't really like breakfast. The menu was the typical high-end brunch menu, but with none of the lunch-y kind of options. There were fancy pancakes and egg dishes, but no sandwiches. In fact, the menu was so limited, that she was forced to go against type and order something that sounded a little bit like a breakfast burrito (scrambled eggs with guac and black beans and a haystack of chips). She declared the haystack "annoying", probably because moving it off to the side slowed her intake of food slightly. Did I mention that we were hungry?

I ordered the brie and mushroom omelet, because I like brie. I was thinking that such an upscale place would put some fancy 'shrooms in there to go with the brie and I'd be all kinds of satisfied. I should not have assumed that the mushrooms would be anything but butter-sauteed buttons. If I hadn't maybe my disappointment wouldn't have surfaced at grading time. I'm not really sure what made the omelet "French-style", but the egg part was thick and puffy around the cheese and mushrooms.

The potatoes divided our family. Judy thought they were good. They did have real potato flavor and lots of good seasoning. I just thought they were typically under-done. Come on, people, everybody likes their potatoes crispy. So crisp them up, already. How hard can it be?

Eventually, as enough of the food entered my system, I was able to look around with a less jaded and unhappy eye. Food is good that way. It makes me less crazy, especially when I'm just crazy with hunger. Still, and here's the real summary of Lucia's, everything we ordered was unloved. Nothing made us say, "Oh, wow, this is good." No one looked at anyone else's plate and said, "Ooo, I wish I'd gotten that." I expect the high-end breakfast to wow me a little bit. I want to fall in love with some part of it. Otherwise, I can just go to a dinner, and eat cheap food that tastes fine, and I don't have to move the garnish aside so I can eat it.

Fern ~ C-, mostly because she didn't really want anything on the menu.
Judy ~ B-, heavily influenced by other peoples' grades and cold coffee
Jimmy ~ C+, and he got enough to eat because he ate the rest of Judy's omelet
Alex ~ B, fancier mushrooms and crispier potatoes would have raised it to an A

You Picked A Fine Time To Feed Me Lucile

2008-05-22T12:05:00.005-05:00

Lucile's
2124 14th Street
Boulder, CO 80302
303.442.4743

Ask almost anyone in the Denver area about breakfast and the name Lucile's will come up. When I polled some carpool buddies recently and talked about my blog I was greeted with incredulous stares when I said that I hadn't been to Lucile's yet. Once people stop raving about the food, they mention the wait. Waiting at Lucile's seems to be a given and part of the Lucile's experience. Rachael and I decided to brave Lucile's wait on a little day trip to Boulder a few weeks ago. Lucile's lived up to their reputation on all counts.

If you look at the picture on the right, you can predict that loved Lucile's. What is it about restaurants in houses that is so awesome? I don't know, but it is undeniable. House restaurants rock. Period. End of sentence.

Let's talk about the waiting. This is the type of restaurant that would incite a riot under any normal TC breakfast club conditions. Waiting is a given. It will happen. It is part of the Lucile's experience. So much so, that they utilize the second floor as a waiting area with tiny chairs and random collection of books and toys. It is like breakfast purgatory. One of their books consisted of newspaper clippings singing the praises of Lucile's food. Great information that doubled as torture for a hungry individual. With that being said we had to wait about 25 minutes. They turned tables over fairly quickly. A larger group would have been there for a looooooooong time though.

Lucile's is a New Orleans inspired cafe. Given that, we felt it was our civic duty to sample their beignets, in a purely academic endeavor. What arrived was a plate of delicious fried dough with a pile of powdered sugar that more resembled Tony Montana's desk than actual food. It had so much powdered sugar, eating the beignet became risky. If you inhaled ever so slightly as brought your beignet to your mouth, powdered sugar would fly in your mouth, up your nose and maybe even through your eyes causing a severe coughing fit. I swear I was tasting powdered sugar for the rest of the day. Sugar inhalation (as a confessed sugar addict, this was no big deal for me) nonwithstanding the beignets were fantastic.

The rest of the food was fantastic. I had the egg benny, which was great including the six pounds of shaved ham on each English muffin. Great for a meat lover. Rachael had the eggs sardu which was a concoction of poached eggs, Gulf shrimp, creamed spinach, and hollandaise. She gave it high marks, but it was so large she never got a chance to try the homemade biscuit, but it LOOKED good.

The potatoes were as good as non-crispy potatoes can possibly be. That's not saying much, but given the number of people they serve I think crispy potatoes aren't feasible. Too busy, too many people to spend the necessary time to properly crisp the taters. You can't have everything.

Lucile's has some nice touches as well. They have a fantastic homemade jam on every table that was a very nice addition to the beignets. They spice up their ketchup with Cajun offerings. I am normally a ketchup purist, but their spiced ketchup was very good. Lucile's even offers chicory coffee for people that prefer their coffee to taste like ass.

All in all, the meal at Lucile's was great. It was the perfect meal to sustain us for a long day of hiking and sightseeing. If you are in Boulder in the morning, there is no better way to start the day than Lucile's. The grades:

Amadeus-Eggs Benny-B+
Rachael-Eggs Sardu-A-

Breakfast Royalty?

2008-04-20T14:08:00.011-05:00

The Breakfast King
1100 S. Santa Fe Dr.
Denver, CO 80223
303.733.0795

The semester is winding down here in Denver, and by winding down, I mean ramping up with assignments and exams to the degree that I am a man on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Rather than actually deal with the looming due dates, I decided to sign up for a 5k fun run in the morning and then go out for a greasy breakfast. I was able to rope two of my fellow classmates in Operation Procrastination.

Janine, Jess, and I met up at Washington Park for the Strides for Epilepsy 5k to support the Epilepsy Foundation of Colorado on a ridiculously beautiful Colorado morning. We all managed to survive the run. Kind of. I've been in Denver for 8 months now, running 5 times a week, but am still struggling with the lack of oxygen. The first mile went fine, then the wheels came off and I ended up staggering to the finish. Jess put it very well when she stated that she thought her lungs were bleeding and on the verge of collapse during the race.

After the race, we felt as though we deserved a reward. There is no better reward in my opinion than a big greasy breakfast to completely nullify any acquired benefit of running 3.1 miles. Thanks to google maps, we found a relatively close diner called The Breakfast King. When doing my research, I was taken in by the phrase "trucker friendly portions". Who wouldn't be?

The Breakfast King is everything that comes to mind when you imagine a typical greasy spoon diner. They are crowded but also manage to turn customers over at a rapid pace, so no one is left waiting for very long. The decor is very 70's (hint: orange and lots of it). The waitresses are both nice (in a gruff no nonsense sort of way) and efficient. They all have voices that make you think that there may have been years of smoking in their past. It took every fiber of my being to refrain from calling our waitress "Flo". The menu contains all of the standard diner items, including the vastly underrated chicken fried steak.

The food is also exactly what you would expect from a diner. Diners as a whole know how to cook eggs. My over easy eggs were perfect, fully cooked whites with very yolky yolk. My sausage patties were fried perfectly as well. They definitely know their way around a grill. Unfortunately the coffee is what you would expect from a diner, weak Bun-O-Matic Folgers. It's probably unreasonable to expect fair-trade organic schmancy coffee from a diner, so I gave them a pass. Alas, the potatoes were awful. The good people at Breakfast King subscribe to the chopped up narfy school of hash browns (neither shredded hash browns, nor American fried potatoes, somewhere in the middle). This is my least favorite kind of hash browns. They also would have benefited from a longer relationship with the grill. There were isolated bits of crispiness, but were mostly mush.

On to the official grades (methinks my family grades on the harsh side, and I am considering developing some sort of grade equalization system for the Denver reviews):
Beau-Standard American breakfast-C+ (hash brown related)
Janine-Scrambled eggs with cheese and hash browns-B+
Jess-Vegetarian omelet and hash browns-B+

If you are looking for good, traditional diner eats, The Breakfast King is is perfect. Whether or not they are truly breakfast royalty is up for debate.

Don't Wake Us Just Yet

2008-04-06T18:37:00.004-05:00

Café Maude
5411 Penn Ave South
Minneapolis, MN
612.822.5411

Was it a dream? Dreams are about wish fulfillment, after all. In my dream, the breakfast clubbers walked into a café they had never visited before, casually ordered a variety of standard breakfast choices, and found themselves spinning in a blur of rich colors, strange shapes, and the most wonderful flavors they had experienced in months. Imagine fleeting images of smiles and laughter, the clink of silverware as every morsel is collected and savored, excitement to the point of confusion.

But wait, it couldn’t have been a dream. There were some sort of creeping plants on the building’s exterior which were being held in place by a copious amount of scotch tape, and none of the TCBCers would ever be responsible for conjuring up something so hideous in a happy dream. So it was real! It happened! It happened at Café Maude, in fact.

Café Maude is probably better known for its nighttime personality – it features live music or a DJ every night, and you would be lucky to secure a table then, as demand far exceeds supply. But breakfast is a different story – five of us walked in and were immediately seated at a comfortable booth. The décor was obviously chosen with an evening crowd in mind (it feels like it should be dark out when you’re there), but the kitchen cares about you just as much as they do about their later diners, and the food is outstanding.

The breakfast menu includes many of the usual selections – omelettes, pancakes, french toast, etc., but they’ve been Maude-ified. The oatmeal has currants, pine nuts, and garam masala (!). The french toast comes with ginger ice cream. On the more unusual side, there’s a sautéed flatbread offering that involves eggs, bacon, cucumber, sri racha, and cilantro, and a really good-looking chorizo hash with fried egg and harissa (hot sauce).

Jimmy and Rachael both tried the Eggs Benedict of the day, which was made with a spicy lamb sausage on French bread. Rachael didn’t understand how Eggs Benedict (with sausage, no less) could be prepared in a manner that wasn’t greasy, but there it was. Alex got an omelette with spinach, feta, crispy potatoes, and harissa, and was moved almost to tears. The potatoes – crispy as crispy can be – were INSIDE the omelette. Other restaurants can’t even manage the crispy potato on its own, Alex exclaimed, and here Maude had achieved it wrapped up in eggs and cheese! I tried the yogurt with fresh berries, honey, granola, and toasted pistachios (a departure for me – though I might add, NOT because I always order breakfast burritos. Don’t believe the other clubbers, readers, they are only trying to make me mad by perpetuating this burrito nonsense). It was delicious and beautifully presented. And finally, Judy ordered the silver dollar pancakes, and liked them well enough, though most club members, Jill excepted, often regret ordering pancakes no matter how good they are. Interesting side note – the menu touts “locally-harvested maple syrup”, which prompted some curiosity. Our server told Judy it actually comes from Wisconsin, so it’s not from the trees on the boulevard or anything.

All in all, so unexpectedly delightful we had to pinch ourselves. But here’s one dream we can have over and over, and you can be sure the breakfast club will visit Maude again.

Official grades (attending members not to reveal special voting procedure to others):

Alex – Omelette with spinach, feta, crispy potatoes, and harissa – A (and she confronted everyone else about exactly WHY they didn’t grant an A too)
Jimmy – Eggs Benedict – B+, points off only for non-fresh-squeezed OJ
Rachael – Eggs Benedict – A-, wished for a little more butter in her meal
Judy – Pancakes – B+, pancake thing.
Fern – Yogurt/Granola – A

Like Buttah

2008-04-01T10:51:00.009-05:00

Butter Bakery Cafe
3544 Grand Ave S
Minneapolis
612.521.7401

When you eat at a coffee shop, you resign yourself to certain things that you wouldn’t tolerate in a real restaurant. You might not be able to get a table big enough for six people, for example. You will most likely have to stand up and order at the counter. Food delivery will be slow and possibly uneven when you overwhelm them with a group of our size. Here at Twin Cities Breakfast Club, we grumble through these minor coffee-shop inconveniences, but there are certain things we demand from our coffee shop breakfasts:

They must serve eggs, even though they are primarily a coffee shop. We don’t go out to eat in order to have pastries and coffee. I do. Alone. The club does not.
They must have a stove. We don’t like eggs that have been steamed in an espresso maker and called “scrambled”.
They must accompany their counter service with a warm friendly busy-ness that allows us to enjoy not being served. I enjoy being served a lot, it turns out (which is odd, since I’m usually so low-maintenance) but it’s easy for me to forget about it when I know there’s a lot going on behind the counter.
And, of course, they must serve outstanding food that makes us want to come back and stand in line to order more of it.

We ate at Butter this weekend, and found it completely satisfactory as a coffee shop, but it doesn’t quite measure up as a breakfast joint. They fulfill the first three criteria, but fall slightly short on the last. The atmosphere at Butter is warm and clean and we were easily able to push two tables together to accommodate our crew. With sunlight streaming through the windows, it felt like spring at our table, and even the wall mural painted in ugly browns and blues seemed cheerful. (Of course this was Saturday, before Minnesota played the worst April Fools joke of all time by spitting six inches of slush on us on Monday. Happy spring break, everyone.)

Butter does have a complete breakfast menu it turns out, with several varieties of eggs (made on a stove which you can see from the counter) in addition to the best chocolate éclair in Minneapolis. This is a chocolate éclair that demands a plate and a utensil because it is full of delicious cream and covered in a dense layer of melt-on-your fingers chocolate. It is not good food to order with your morning coffee for your drive to work. Save your upholstery and get the scone for that purpose. Get the chocolate éclair for times when you have time to sit and savor the cream that you’ll have to lick off your fingers and, um, the plate if you are uncouth.

The happiest members of our club were those who expected nothing more than coffee shop food – and Fern, who had a much exclaimed-over BLT, because she secretly doesn’t even like breakfast. All of us shared one of the chocolate éclairs, and all of us enjoyed rolling up our sleeves for it. Judy had yogurt, fruit and a scone, and was content with her meal. Jill was the most unhappy member of the club and she got the most demanding breakfast-y meal. Pancakes. They arrived late, and they looked terrible. I’m not sure she ate even half of one of them. I got some sort of frittata thing that wasn't bad, but borrowed most of its flavor from the pile of Salsa Lisa on top. Unfortunately it came with a side of mealy, un-crispy potatoes, which is a bit of a death knell for a breakfast joint.

Our grades reflected the diversity of things we were able to order, which is impressive in itself for such a small coffee-shop kitchen.
Perley ~ Biscuits and gravy ~ A- (but with the caveat that his grade was for Butter as coffee shop, not as breakfast place)
Fern ~ delicious-looking BLT ~ A-
Judy ~ Yogurt, fruit, and scone ~ B+
Rachael ~ breakfast burrito ~ B
Jimmy ~ standard breakfast with enormous sausage patties ~ B
Jill ~ sad pile of late pancakes and good coffee ~ C+
Alex ~ Fritatta and icky potatoes and a chocolate éclair for the table ~ C+

A Big Improvement From KFC

2008-03-16T10:33:00.013-05:00

La Chaya Bistro
4537 Nicollet Ave. S.
Minneapolis, MN 55419
612.827.2254

Even though it doesn't feel like it, this week is the beginning of Spring break. Not only do I get a much needed break from class work and clinic obligations, but I also get to spend some time with my beloved, my friends, and my family. This also means I actually get to review a place on the Twin Cities Breakfast Club Blog that is located in the Twin Cities. For once our tens of readers won't think as they read one of my posts, "What is a place in Denver doing on the Twin Cities Breakfast Club Blog?"

It was a large and boisterous group (due to, I'm sure, my incredible popularity) that knocked on the doors of a newly open restaurant, La Chaya. We even had a special appearance from Jill, Perley's beloved. The website says that they are open for brunch from 9-2 on Saturday and Sunday. We, of course, arrived at 9:00 and 30 seconds. I think they were a little surprised to see a group of eight people arrive, but they adjusted nicely. La Chaya is located in a building that housed a KFC in a previous life. It's safe to say that this is a complete and total upgrade in both quality of food and atmosphere, although that isn't exactly saying a while lot. The owners of La Chaya have done a wonderful job decorating the place. It is very warm and welcoming, with some interesting styling quirks. They certainly have a fondness for metal work. The entryway contains an old door mounted on its side as part of the partition. Perley was both impressed and dismayed (he claims to have had a similar idea for years but had yet to act upon it).

The first thing that you notice about the menu at La Chaya is the assortment of fresh squeezed juices. They not only offer the expected orange juice, but also offer pineapple; carrot & beet; carrot, beet & orange; apple, carrot, celery; orange, banana & pineapple; and carrot, cucumber, beet & lime. Everyone who ordered juice seemed to enjoy them (especially Rachael and her pineapple). I enjoyed the aesthetic appeal of the myriad of juices on the table; it was like the rainbow coalition of juice. Some members of the group were a little put off by the beetiness of a few of the juice options. They're great if you like beets, but don't expect to taste much besides beets.

The brunch menu has some interesting selections, but not exactly wide-ranging. They DO offer a standard American breakfast as part of the brunch menu, which was a pleasant surprise. Our party of eight ordered almost every item on the menu. I think the only items we missed were oatmeal and yogurt and granola. Their offerings have a Mexican flair and everything is done extremely well. I think Fern was a little sad because there was no breakfast burrito option and she had to settle for a quesadilla. Hands down the winner was Rachael's choice of Molletes, which were four pieces of toast covered in refried beans and chorizo and melty cheese with fresh salsa. Her plate was highly coveted by all.

La Chaya also offers a few fresh baked pastries, including scones and caramel rolls. We succumbed to temptation and were rewarded handsomely. The caramel rolls very, very good and flaky. The scones also received high marks.

Alas, La Chaya was not perfect. Some members had problems with the service but mostly chalked it up to a combination of inexperience and a large and somewhat demanding group. I ordered the scrambled eggs, but felt a little cheated and think maybe they should have called it scrambled egg, singular. Really small quibbles in the grand scheme of things. These minor issues did not cause the group to rule out a return trip.

The potatoes deserve a paragraph of their own. When I received my plate of food, my heart sank. The potatoes were not the least bit brown or crispy. They looked like your standard disappointing mushy, slightly mealy breakfast potatoes. I was ready to give a failure right then and there. I found the smallest piece and tentatively placed it in my mouth. What a pleasant surprise. The potatoes weren't at all crispy, but they had a wonderful texture nonetheless. They were the exact amount of doneness without being mealy and gross on the inside. The outside was not crispy, but did retain a separate texture from the inside giving it a strange illusion of crispiness. They were also lightly flavored with rosemary and other spices. I didn't even feel the need to request ketchup. In my world that is high praise indeed.

So, on to the official grades. Secret text balloting was used to ensure no vote coercion. We are democratic if nothing else.

Amadeus-scrambled egg with cheese mushrooms and chorizo-B+
Perley-Grapefruit juice and standard breakfast-B+
Jill-Mimosa and pancakes-A- (bonus points for smoking hot chef)
Fern-Beet-tastic juice and quesadillas-B
Alex-Orange, pineapple, banana juice and quesadillas-B+
Judy-Beet-tastic juice and "eggs benedict"-B+
Jimmy-Orange juice and huevos rancheros-B+
Rachael-Pineapple juice and molletes-A-

Please go to La Chaya and enjoy their delicious food. We fully endorse their fare. God knows the world would be a better place if there were more La Chayas and less KFCs out there.

Breakfast at Al's (without Al)

2008-02-27T21:25:00.010-06:00

Al's Breakfast
413 4th Ave SE
Minneapolis, MN
612.331.9991

Note: Today's review is a guest post, brought to you by a friend-who's-a-boy who wasn't able to eat breakfast with me earlier this week, probably because I was out in the 'burbs teaching the math, rather than in the city experiencing one of Minneapolis's true institutions with him. Good thing I like the math. Anyway, here's Jeff.

I get the feeling that they don't appreciate non-locals in this diner. But I live in the Chateau. Look, you can see my apartment from here!

I sit down and am quickly ignored. I find a menu within arm's reach. Quirky items. Pancakes with corn nibblets. Stewed prunes. They seem to specialize in eggs benedict. I decide on the New Orleans (N.O.) omelet. Slivered almonds. Capers. Shrimp and garlic hollandaise sauce. I like seafood. If only my waitress knew...that I wanted to order something.

I don't order coffee. I think this was a mistake. This is a sure sign that I'm a neophyte. No eggs benedict neither.

The cook likes to shout really loud from one side of the restaurant to the other. This amuses me. No really, it does. Bob Marley is playing. The guy next to me starts chatting about Rastafarians and the guy to my left recaps the Oscars. This guy is so serious about eating--he's concentrating on his meal like a hunter in the blinds--except his eggs benedict aren't trying to escape. He's so into eating his breakfast that it makes me nervous just to sit next to him. I don't why exactly.

Is it 9:20am smoke break? Where's my shrimp. Is this the Hard Times Breakfast...did I forget the secret password? The waitress appears and leaves time and again, a mild, permanent sneer on her face.

I like the personality of the place. Patron postcards from around the world and bills tacked onto the wall in varied currencies. Small dinosaur toys. A system of personal tabs arranged by name in alphabetical order. The fellow next to me leaves. His tab is in the red. "Oh well, I'll bring my checkbook next time". They take personal checks. Nice. I think about starting a tab. Big yellow slips of paper. I'll write down "Jackie Osbourne" or something like that. Brock McPatterson.

My omelet arrives. It's good, I guess. It's interesting. And that's what I usually order. I can't find any shrimp though. I ask the dishguy/underchef. He says that the shrimp are very small. I really can't see anything at all. Krill? Sea monkeys? I can taste something salty, but that might just be the capers. It's a decent omelet. I took a gamble. Eggs benedict next time. I leave a decent tip, but I leave it in quarters stacked neatly beside my plate. The staff doesn't notice my absence any more than my presence. Not as fun without Al there...

Why I Don't Order Pancakes

2008-02-23T16:20:00.004-06:00

Blah Restaurant
Who Cares Avenue
Snore, CO

Rachael visited last weekend for a special three-day President's Day weekend. We had a little two-person breakfast club. I hated this place so much that I am not even going to tell you it's name. It doesn't even deserve to be named in a bad review on our blog. We picked it more out of convenience than for any real desire to eat there. It is located close to the Cherry Creek Safeway, which is were we intended to shop after we had breakfast. For this decision, we were punished with a terrible breakfast surrounded by terrible people.

I had one of my infrequent hankerings for pancakes. This occurs every few months. I am disappointed every time I have them, and it takes me until I forget my last horrible experience to have another urge for pancakes. To no one's surprise I am a syrup snob and will only have pancakes if real maple syrup is an option. Luckily "the restaurant who shall not be named" offered real maple syrup for an extra $1.75. Usually that will buy you a thimble-sized cup of real maple syrup. I was pleasantly surprised to receive a veritable carafe of real maple syrup. I soon realized that I received copious amounts of syrup because TRWSNBN makes those gigantic, awful, crumbly, fall-apart pancakes that somehow manage to soak up all of the syrup that you put on them without actually providing any syrup flavor whatsoever. I would pour on syrup, watch it soak into the enormous pancake, then stuggle for a few minutes searching through pancake crumbles for any discernable maple syrup flavor. Why do restaurants think that it is ok to sacrifice quality for quantity when it comes to pancakes? I don't think I am the only person that would prefer a stack of smaller pancakes with the proper texture to a giant pancake with terrible, crumbly texture. Are you with me people?

Anyway, TRWSNBN was an entirely forgettable experience that's only merit was to remind me why I should never order pancakes at a restaurant. Hopefully by posting this I will not make this mistake again. Fat chance.

Because You Need Another Reason To Hate Corporations

2008-02-09T21:08:00.000-06:00

Earl's Sandwich Parlor
1431 Ogden Street
Denver, CO 80218
303.832.7411

When I was preparing to move out to Denver in June of '07 I did all of my apartment research on craigslist. Risky? Yes, but it paid off. I now live in a delightful apartment in Capitol Hill. I am close enough that I can walk or take the bus to all of the important events that I choose to attend. The only downside is my half an hour commute to the campus in Aurora. I realize that I have no right to complain about a half hour commute. Some people would kill for a commute that short.

I moved to my new apartment in early August. I drove a giant U-Haul down here and was followed in my car by two of my bestest friends, Jorge and Selena. We rolled into Denver around 11:30 pm. Not having the energy to tackle the unloading project at that point, we stashed the truck, brought in the bare essentials and took a walk around the neighborhood. The stated purpose of the walk was to get TP for the morning, but it was also a chance for me to get the feel of my new 'hood (the initial trip to find a place was a whirlwind adventure of which I remember little). I immediately felt at home. On the way back to the apartment from a 7-Eleven (only about 9,000 time better than a Super America, if I never have to answer the question, "Do you have a speedy rewards card?" again it will be too soon), we walked past a place called "The Earl of Sandwich". My first thought was, "God I hope that place is good, because that is the most awesome name for a sandwich place."

Much to my delight, "The Earl" (as Rachael and I affectionately call it) rocks. They make fantastic sandwiches and the service is tremendous. I cannot say enough good things about The Earl. After my third trip there, the server lady had already learned my name (alas, I am terrible with names and have not learned hers, does that make me a dick?) and knew of my love for the club sandwich. Although they violate two of my seven requirements of a club sandwich, I still love them to death. I can't really speak to the quality of any of their other sandwiches, but Rachael has dined there on numerous occasions and she recommends the Marion (wrap of roast beef, sprouts, cucumber, and cream cheese) or the 14th Avenue Delight (pastrami and provolone on rye). They also offer soup and breakfast croissants, which are served all day.

The atmosphere is more homey-coffee shop then sandwich restaurant. They have carpets in some areas and cushy chairs in others. They also have a nice selection of art for sale that turns over at a good clip and never is that really awful restaurant art that makes you think, "Who in their right mind would buy that?" Come on, you know you've said that to yourself when you've been forced to stare at terrible art for an entire meal.

Alas, "The Earl of Sandwich" is no more. It is now called, "Earl's Sandwich Parlor". Why, do you ask, would they change their name from the most awesome name for a sandwich shop in the world, to a merely OK name for a place? One word, my friends. Disney. Apparently, Disney which runs a place in Downtown Disney, has a copyright on the name, "The Earl of Sandwich". Disney has also decided to open franchises in all 50 glorious states. They, of course, sent cease and desist letters to all proprietors who operated places with that name (of which I am sure there were many). Rather than fight the all-powerful Disney, the good people at The Earl just changed their name. I probably shouldn't be surprised and shouldn't be as upset as I am about this minor change. After all, The Earl is still there and serving up sandwiches every day (except Sunday). It's just the principle of the matter. Yet another case of a large corporation flexing it's muscle and getting whatever it wants, screw the little guy. Remember, Disney is where your dreams come true, unless you happen to be a small local restaurant owner who is in our way. In that case we will crush your dreams.

Anyway, please stop by "Earl's Sandwich Parlor". They are really nice and they make fantastic sandwiches. Feel free to refer to them by their rightful name, The Earl of Sandwich. And in the future, if you see a chain version of The Earl of Sandwich pop up in your neighborhood, please spit on their door or something.

More Things I Believe about Busters

2008-02-02T15:46:00.000-06:00

I believe that the potatoes at Busters are perfect. I've had them three times. If you're ever there when they throw them into a metal bowl to mix in the salt, you can hear them clinking against the side of the bowl. They actually clink, because they are so crispy. When you get them on your plate, perfectly salted and still crispy, you get to try to figure out how to transfer them from your plate to your fork to your mouth, because they are such small perfect crisp little cubes. This difficulty may be a blessing in disguise, because you might not need to eat a full portion of those potatoes.

I believe that Busters onion rings took the Bandbox onion rings out back last weekend and kicked their asses. They still made Judy's stomach hurt, but they wouldn't be onion rings if they didn't. Fern, who hates onions, likes Buster's rings. Jimmy, who loves onions, does, too. Go figure.

I believe that going so far as to make homemade peanut butter and ketchup is just the kind of obsessive maneuver that separates Busters from the rest of the pack of breakfast joints. I'm not so sure that it makes that much of a difference in the particular (I'm no ketchup connoisseur to be sure, but I couldn't tell a difference between theirs and Heinz), but I am sure that that kind of attention to detail in general makes all the difference in the world.

I believe that you-all need to get your butts into those chairs at Busters. I keep going there for weekend brunch and having no trouble at all getting a table. If there were any fairness in the world, I'd have to sign up for a seat like you do at Hell's Kitchen or any of those Blue Plate restaurants on a weekend. Selfishly, I'd love to keep getting seated right away, but just as selfishly, I want them to keep thriving to make those potatoes another day.

Muy Caliente!

2008-01-19T17:26:00.000-06:00

Cafe Caliente
3701 West 32nd Ave.
Denver, CO 80211
303.433.2500

It's a glorious weekend here in Denver. Mostly because I have the privilege of spending it with Rachael. Thanks to the good Dr. King, we were able to make it a four day weekend of togetherness in Denver. It wouldn't be a proper weekend without a Saturday morning meal out, so Rachael and I ventured out for a two-person breakfast club.

Since I am new to the Denver scene, I have do my homework before departure. It isn't practical (is it ever?) to do the "let's drive around aimlessly until we find a place". Maybe after I've lived here for a while. Last night I did my internet research (no citysearch this time dagnabit!) and found a place that had incredible potential. We were destined for DJ's Berkeley Cafe. I was very excited, the food looks fantastic and it was in a totally new to me part of Denver. Two very hungry club member's pulled up in front of DJ's at 9:30. Closed. How could a breakfast place be closed on a Saturday morning at 9:30 am? Well, a very nice sign on the door informed us that on January 13th, a small kitchen fire broke out. Luckily there were no injuries and DJ's is fully insured. They are working feverishly to repair the damage and hope to be open in the near future. While this was encouraging to hear and I am looking forward to returning to DJ's after the repairs are complete, I was not exactly pleased to be walking back to the car, sans breakfast. Now I was hungry, a little grumpy, in a completely unknown part of town, and the clock was ticking towards melt-down time. The day was further complicated by a previously planned obligation of moving assistance at 12. The clock was ticking literally and figuratively.

My love, Rachael, has many quirks. Many that I love and many that I love but also drive me crazy. One of the "love but drive me crazy" quirks, is her affinity for the wild goose chase. On more than one occasion, she will decide that she wants to go to a place. She'll tell me that she doesn't know EXACTLY where it is, but is pretty sure of it's general location. Once this decision is made, we will spend the next 30, 45, 60, 90 minutes driving around somewhat aimlessly with Rachael saying things like:

"Hmmm, this doesn't look right, I think it is to the right"
or
"This looks familiar, I think if we go left for a while we will see it"
or
"Do you remember that one time we went to that clothing store? I think it was by that place"
or
"No, this is wrong, I think we were supposed to turn a few blocks ago"

The success rate of the Rachael wild goose chase hovers around 50%. My patience of the Rachael wild goose chase ranges from 0% to 100%, depending on my mood and hunger level. So as we got back into the car and Rachael said to me, "I remember one of Selena's friends lived in Denver in this area, I bet we can find another good place if we just drive around for a while", I was decidedly sceptical. However, without any other better ideas or any energy to fight, I acquiesced.

In a delightfully surprising turn of events, she quickly directed me to the Highland town square and we agreed to park, walk around and eat at the first open, somewhat appealing looking restaurant that we found. We were immediately drawn to a place that was located inside a house and advertised coffee, breakfast sandwiches, and paninis. The place was Cafe Caliente and it was wonderful.

The setting is fantastic, I am a sucker for establishments that are located in houses. Especially coffee shops. I love the warm, inviting feel. It is nice to feel like you can settle down and spend as much time there are you desire. No one is going to rush you through your meal and try to turn the table over for new customers. Very refreshing,

Cafe Caliente is more coffee shop than restaurant, but manages to serve a quality selection of breakfast options. They have a variety of bagel sandwiches and just bagels (obviously), a nice selection of quiches, and paninis. The coffee is completely self serve, you even get to choose your own mug and to say that they have an eclectic assortment is an understatement.

The service was wonderful. The woman who took our order was very cheerful with a charming, slightly crazy tinge. After I ordered my breakfast sandwich, Rachael inquired about the quiche and was informed about the ones on the menu AND a "secret" quiche, not on the menu. When I returned later for my coffee refill, I overheard our server lamenting the fact that her sister thought she was crazy because she liked to talk to her lattes.

I had the breakfast sandwich with egg, cheese,and ham on an everything bagel. It was fabulous. Usually when you get a bagel breakfast sandwich, the bagel is tough and has been toasted all to hell. This results in the contents of you sandwich exploding out of the back end when you take your first bite (Einstein and Panera, I'm looking at you). This was not the case at Cafe Caliente. The sandwich held together nicely and was delicious.

Rachael had the "secret" quiche (with sausage and potato) and enjoyed it tremendously. The quiche crust was made of layers of filo dough, which meant that it was not gigantic and heavy. It was the perfect size.

Cafe Caliente's only problem is their success. There was only one table available for us and it was kind of jammed in a doorway. This would never work with a group bigger than 3 or 4. If that is the only negative though, they've succeeded.

The grades:
Beau-Bagel sandwich-A-
Rachael-"Secret" quiche-B+

Cafe Caliente is a darling little coffee shop with a surprisingly nice assortment of breakfast food and on this day they might just have saved a marriage.

Meanwhile, Back in Minneapolis...

2008-01-12T15:10:00.000-06:00

Band Box Diner
729 SE 10th Street
Minneapolis
612.332.0850

Our crew got a bit of a late start for the Minneapolis version of Breakfast Club today, so we probably ate at exactly the same time as Beau's Denver crew. Judy and I were still out walking the dog at 9:45 when we made the official call to Jimmy to begin the process of getting out the door and meeting for a meal. Judy displayed unusual decisiveness in picking a restaurant, while at the same time describing her choice with such Judy-like obfuscation that it was nearly impossible to tell at which restaurant she so decisively wanted to eat. "You know that place? It's sort of downtown? And it has the small tables? I think it's red. Or maybe the tables are red." Red turned out to be the essential clue. She meant the Band Box. We've eaten at the Band Box several times in the past. In fact, we had a brief love affair with it, because it's such an authentic little diner. I believe there was even a period in our history when we ate at the Band Box twice in the same calendar month, which is a rare compliment indeed.

There's really only one table big enough for us at the Band Box (and it is, in fact, red, as Judy announced with triumph shortly after our arrival). It's not only the largest table there, but the best one, because it's tucked into its own little nook in the restaurant and it has windows on two sides. There was a family sitting there before we arrived, so we stood forlornly next to the second-biggest table, until they offered to switch, which meant moving their two small children, but they did so with such friendly cheerfulness that we didn't even feel too awkward about it. They even offered to take our picture with Rachael's cell phone so she could send it to Denver. They did not accept my invitation to join us for breakfast, but they were still the friendliest next-door table we've ever had.

The waitress was not the friendliest waitress we've ever had. She thoroughly intimidated Perley who was nice enough to ask for water for the table. "Yeah. We're out of glasses," she said tersely. Out of glasses? What? This is way worse than not having milk. When she came back later with two waters, Perley scolded us for not taking them both. Personally, I was just trying to save the precious supply of water glasses.

The wait for food was interminable. In fact, for a period of time, we noticed that not only were we not eating, but everybody else in the place was also waiting for food, and we couldn't even really smell food. We wondered if the cook had had to run to the store while we waited. And waited. This may have been the cause of the waitress's bad mood. All of the other employees must have ditched her and gone to the store, leaving her to placate the masses with just a single pot of coffee (which she slowly rationed out to the tables) and no food or water.

Or maybe she was just having a bad day, because our food did eventually arrive, and it actually had some very bright spots. Rachael declared that Judy's onion rings were the best she's ever had. (Yes, Judy ordered onion rings. Yes, her stomach hurt afterwards. No, we can't blame the Band Box for that, since everyone knows that Judy's stomach can't handle onion rings.) The potatoes were fried with onions so they had good flavor, and they had some crispy bits. I ate my entire plate full of eggs, potatoes, and toast and it was satisfying in a traditional breakfast kind of way. Rachael clearly also enjoyed her breakfast sandwich because she fell into a deep silence which lasted until every last bite was consumed.

When it came time for the secret grading (which Perley now insists must be done by text message, even as we sit together at the same table), here's how it shook down:
Rachael ~ Breakfast Sandwich and one of Judy's onion rings ~ A
Judy ~ BLT and Onion Rings ~ B+
Alex ~ Two eggs over-easy, potatoes, and toast ~ B+
Jimmy ~ Two eggs over-easy, potatoes, toast, and sausage patty (just like his little boy in Denver) ~ B
Perles ~ Two eggs over-easy, potatoes, toast, and bacon ~ C
Fern ~ Big Baby (burger) and fries ~ C (because the burger was so-so and the bun was bad, but the fries were good.)

Sevice was slow. The food-happiness was definitely uneven, but when it comes to a traditional breakfast, the Band Box is a good solid choice. And the tables are undeniably red.

Tomorrow IS only a day away

2008-01-12T12:56:00.000-06:00

Annie's Cafe

4012 E. 8th Ave.
Denver, CO
303.355.8197

Last semester I was adjusting to being back in school and being away from my beloved. I'm using that as my excuse as to why there is only one review of Denver breakfast places in the last four months. Working your butt off during school takes time, as does pining away for your love. I've pledged that this semester will be different and more positive. And what is more positive and uplifting than two eggs over easy, sausage, potatoes, and toast? Not much.

I decided to invite all of my classmates to become part of the Denver Breakfast Club, as they are my Denver "family". Yesterday morning. Before class. This required that I do research, find a place, figure out where it is, and email my classmates in the 8 minutes I had before class. This required massive internet shortcuts, e.g. Citysearch. I have mixed feelings about Citysearch. It can be a really useful site, but I somehow feel dirty using it. It feels like the kind of website that suburbanites go to find out what is good. I'm afraid that someone will discover that I use Citysearch and demand that I return my "cool kid" ID card (did I ever even have a "cool kid" ID card? Debatable). Nevertheless there is something to be said for the convenience factor, and I didn't have a lot of time.

I quickly settled on Annie's Cafe, I'm a sucker for Retro Diners. Three of my classmates accepted my invtitation, and with the addition of Mel's fiance Andrew, five of us assembeld at Annie's this morning. Five people is a good number (not too big, not too small...juuuuuust right) and it actually felt like a breakfast club meeting. And a very amiable group we were. It was strange to have everyone go around and order something off the menu. There were no special requests or anything.

The first thing that strikes you about Annie's is the cool factor. They are a retro 50's diner in the good sort of way. Not in the trashy Johnny Rocket's sort of way. They've got cool movie posters on the wall, old(e) time advertisements, random toys and antiques, and best of all, a bizarre garland-like string of old-school metal lunch boxes around the restaurant. That is serious awesomeness.

Annie's has everything one would expect from a Diner-style breakfast menu. And then some. How many places do you know of that offer three different types of breakfast burrito? Annie's does, which impressed me greatly. It impressed me so much that I didn't even order the breakfast burrito (intimidated?). Maybe I'm saving it for when Fern comes to visit.

I ordered two eggs over easy, sausage (patties yes!), potatoes, and wheat toast. It was a solid breakfast. The eggs were cooked perfectly, the sausage patties tremendous, and in a positive twist, they did not butter the toast for you. This meant I didn't have toast that felt like it was submerged in molten butter right before being served. Unfortunately the potatoes were terrible. They were the kind of potatoes where they can't decide if they want to make American fries or hash browns, and instead end up somewhere in the middle. There are some intact pieces of potato, some crispy hash brown parts, and then a lot of amorphous potato-like narf. Annie's does get major plus points for putting a jar of Jiff peanut butter on the table. This excited me so much that I altered my approach to ensure that I had one slice of toast left over so I could end my meal with half of a toasted PB&J. You can't beat that.

Before I get to the grades, I must discuss the variety of people's breakfast eating approaches. I am continually amazed at the level of diversity there is to the way one eat eggs, meat, potatoes, and toast. You probably aren't surprised, but I myself have two approaches to eating the standard American breakfast. I have one approach in restaurants and a separate technique for when I am in the privacy of my own home (don't ask). My restaurant approach is to start by creating a hole in my egg yolks. I then use the corner of my toast to dip and eat my yolks. Once I've exhausted the yolk, I eat the remainder of my egg with my meat, and then finish with the potatoes. I know that Perley likes to mash up his eggs and hashbrowns into one big, gloppy mess. Today, I discovered yet another approach. Mel and Andrew used the same technique: they recieved their food and promptly began to mix up their eggs, potatoes, meat, AND toast into one cohesive mass. I had never seen that before and was impressed. Good thing I celebrate diversity.

On to the grades:
Beau-standard breakfast-B- (bad potatoes, surprisingly good coffee though)
Janine-scrambled eggs, cheese, potatoes,toast-B-
Cathy-tamales and eggs-A- (prone to hyperbole, Cathy declared Tamales and Eggs to be the greatest breakfast invention in the history of mankind)
Mel-Annie's Eggs-A
Andrew-standard breakfast-A- (half grade deduction for the lack of water refills)

I'd definitely go back to Annie's and believe that my fellow club member would agree. No place is perfect, but Annie's is darn good. If nothing else, today proved that a Colts fan (Andrew) and a Pats fan (Cathy) could sit down and be nice to each over the course of a meal. At least on a day that they did not face each other. I may be telling a different story next week.

Breakfast Lunch

2008-01-08T18:26:00.001-06:00

Note: Don't try to go there. This restaurant is no more.

Cliquot Club Cafe
2929 East 25th Street
Minneapolis
612.724.4700

We ate breakfast at the Cliquot Club about a year ago. It's a coffee-shop/cafe, and after that first meal we decided that they weren't really ready to be reviewed. I think we may have even called them a "stove-less wonder," because we saw no evidence on the menu or on our breakfast plates that they had a stove top hidden somewhere behind their espresso machine. Given our traditional-breakfast loving crowd, we were rightly skeptical about a breakfast menu that doesn't include fried eggs or potatoes.

Well, it's time to admit that they exist, because since our first visit, the Cliquot Club has become one of my new favorite sandwich spots in Minneapolis. I had a Derby Dunker there two days ago and thoughts of the delicious tomato dipping-sauce have danced in my head ever since. It was garlicky and fresh and flavorful. The sandwiches you should order at the Cliquot Club are the grilled panini sandwiches, and they have about a dozen delicious sounding options, most of which I can't wait to sample. I'm pretty sure there's a sandwich press involved in their creation, because I saw one, and I still didn't see a stove-top even though I (not very subtly) stuck my head all the way around the counter to find it. However, now that I've tasted these sandwiches, I think of the lack-of-stove more as an obstacle the Cliquot Club has valiantly overcome than a ridiculous cooking oversight. The sandwich bread has just the right amount of crunch from the grilling process without being too tough to easily bite through. The cheese is perfectly melted, and the various toppings play well together.

It turns out Minneapolis residents didn't need me to tell them that the Cliquot Club sandwiches are brilliant, because the place gets crowded, which makes me glad, because even during that first substandard breakfast I loved the atmosphere of this small, unassuming place. The service is welcoming and warm without being obsequious, and the lighting and furniture and paint colors all add to the calm, clean, and up-to-date feel of the place. Of course, the "atmosphere" is best on days when you don't get hit by a truck while you're eating, but the Cliquot Club can't really be held responsible for the crazy shit that happened that one day.

I'm still not quite sure about a breakfast place with only baked egg options, but sometimes we get a late start here at Twin Cities Breakfast Club, and we are forced to meet for what we call breakfast-lunch club (or on rare, very late days: breakfast-dinner club). On such a day, the Cliquot Club would be a good choice for us, but be warned that if they have the Derby Dunker special going on again that day, I call dibs on ordering it.

Good Intentions...

2007-12-29T12:25:00.000-06:00

Nick and Eddie Restaurant and Bar
1612 Harmon Place
Minneapolis, MN 55403
612.486.5800

It is December in Minneapolis, which apparently means that people are not allowed to see the sun. There is also a constant assault of a strange white substance falling from the sky. This is especially disconcerting to members of the club that had spent the last 11 days in the tropical sun of St. John (a honeymoon much deserved and long overdue). Oddly enough, these complaints were not well received. Strange.

Despite the inclement weather, breakfast club convened on Saturday morning for the traditional morning meal. It was a rare collection of people thanks to the winter school holiday. Almost complete attendance; the only missing member was dear Fern who was off enjoying the wonders of the Steel City. In a complete surprise the destination was decided upon in mere minutes. Big Al was off attending a secret writing meeting from 9-11. She informed the rest of the group the previous night that she would be calling at 10 am and expected a location to be chosen when she called. This was discussed in the morning over coffee and despite (or perhaps because of) the fact that everyone was on the verge of death by starvation, the first suggestion was accepted. Jimmy and Judy had enjoyed a lunch and a dinner at Nick and Eddie's previously. They recently began a brunch service on the weekend, so we decided to give it a shot.

The first thing we noticed when entering Nick and Eddie's the swanky appearance. The decor was elegant, great lighting, and overall atmosphere. The plates even had the restaurant name etched on to them. It had a bit of a hard/film noiry (funny word) edge to it and I half expected to be seated next to Humphrey Bogart. We were very impressed.

The second thing we noticed was that we were the only customers. Seeing as how they'd just began their brunch service, we didn't hold it against them. In fact, our group rather prefers to be the only people in the restaurant. We are both high maintenance and prone to guilt. We often feel bad about the 9,000 special requests we make during the meal, especially when the server has a lot of other customers. As the only diners in the place, we were free to ask for the moon.

As we were driving over here, I though to myself, I bet I will be able to predict 90% of what they will have. I think there are strict rules when it comes to what can be offered. According to "The Fancy Restaurant Brunch Gestapo", there will be the following items:

1) French toast with some sort of flair (like a banana compote)
2) Eggs Benedict with or without flair (spinach or some such thing)
3) Omelet(s) with flair (fancy cheese, strange veggie)
4) Some sort of baked eggy flairy thing (like eggs en cocotte)
5) Scrambled eggs with flair (often not actually called scrambled)
6) Fruit and granola

One thing that is often not included in the "Fancy Restaurant Brunch" is any form of the standard American breakfast of two eggs, meat, toast, and potatoes. Sometimes they will throw you a bone by placing those three items in the "sides" list. Is the standard American breakfast too low-brow for the fancy restaurant brunch? Do they intentionally leave it off the menu because it is too difficult to add flair to it? This menu limitation has caused me to sour a bit on the "brunch" concept.

But I digress, back to Nick and Eddie's. As I suspected, the standard brunch list was most of their menu. To their credit, Nick and Eddie's had some additional, interesting options, like grilled spicy sausages with polenta. In what might be a first, almost everyone one at the table tried something different. Usually at these brunches, our table will be made up of 80% eggs benedict.

I had an omelet with sausage, cheese and apples. There were two omelet options, but I was confused by the menu. When I ordered my omelet, I mistakenly thought I was getting an omelet with sausage, cheese, apple, bacon, and avocado. When I was informed that it was actually two omelet options, I reconsidered my choice. The waitress, who was very eager to please offered to put anything in the omelet that I desired. I ordered an omelet with sausage, cheese, apple, and avocado. I was terribly excited by this interesting concoction. I guess the waitress over-promised and my choice was apparently vetoed in favor of what was on the menu. No avocado for me. Oh well.

Jimmy had the eggs benedict. When he ordered it, he was informed that they were out of Canadian bacon and it would be replaced with regular bacon. This lead to a curious discussion after the waitress departed. Since we were the only people in the restaurant, who was eating all of their Canadian bacon? Where did it all go? Hopefully there isn't some sort of worldwide Canadian bacon shortage. That would be tragic.

Alex ordered the "shirred" eggs. This was a tiny, creme brulee sized dish of baked eggs and cheese. It looked very good, but Alex still looked hungry after the meal was over.

Rachael went crazy and ordered the spicy sausage and polenta. She loved her meal and gave the highest grade of the group. We all decided though that in vanilla Minneapolis, those spicy sausages should have come with a warning label. They were H-O-T HOT!

Judy and Perley ordered the "Family Platter", which consisted of brioche and a danish, followed by scrambled eggs, bacon, potatoes, and toast. The name of the dish would cause one to think that they would receive a large plate of food to be shared family-stye. It was actually just a regular plate of food. This was not a problem however, because it ensured Judy received a fair amount of food. A shared platter between Perley and Judy would probably end up breaking out to be about 90/10.

The potatoes were a component of most of the meals, but were unfortunately a bust. They were very well flavored, but not the least bit crispy. We're not sure how they were cooked because there were some faint vestiges of crispiness, but were mostly mushy. It's like they fried the potatoes and then scraped off all of the delicious crispy outside.

The letter grades were as follows:
Rachael-sausage and polenta: A-
Jimmy-eggs benedict: B+
Beau-omelet: B-
Judy-fam plat: B-
Perley-fam plat: B-
Alex-shirred eggs: B-

Nick and Eddie's is a pretty sweet place. It looks great and they have very good intentions with the food. I think though, if you are going to eat there, you will want to stick to dinner or lunch. Their brunch is still very much a work in progress.

The Bar Next Door

2007-12-16T10:38:00.000-06:00

Busters on 28th
4204 28th Avenue
612.729.0911

Sometimes you travel the Cities, searching for the perfect breakfast. You even go out to the 'burbs in hopes of a good meal. Sometimes you try a sub-standard restaurant more than once on the off-chance that you caught them on a bad day and the hash browns really will be crispy this time. And then there are times when you notice an unobtrusive sign in a newish bar in your neighborhood that says "Now serving brunch," and you think, "Well, wouldn't it be nice if there were good food right here in my neighborhood. Even though it is a bar, and there's almost no possible way for a bar to measure up to the exacting standards of six very picky eaters..." So, you go, not even expecting anything wonderful, thinking only of the convenience (and of your secret hope that you can finally become a regular at a local haunt).

You walk in the door after 9:30, and the place is quiet and deserted, but for one other table of diners. You wonder what you've conned your friends into eating, and you dread the panning this place is about to receive.

And then, somehow, the food arrives, and everyone is happy. This is Busters, the quiet, unassuming new little bar next door who might just be the new love of your life.

The menu is heavy on the traditional food, with a bit more emphasis on lunch-style food than most brunch places (as befits a bar). There is an acceptable Eggs Benedict (rated a "solid B" by Jimmy who has sampled the Eggs Benedict at most places in the metro area) , as well as a tasty and fresh perfectly-cooked scramble (which, not to brag or anything, the waiter said I was the first person to order) with broccolini and bell peppers and Parmesan. Judy and Fern both had the BLT. All of us got breakfast potatoes on the side.

It was when Judy first tasted the breakfast potatoes and declared them "perfect" that I stopped worrying and learned to love Busters. Or maybe it was when my side of toast (fresh bread from the Baker's Wife) arrived with four little containers of two kinds of delicious jam, homemade peanut butter, and good butter. At any rate, at the conclusion of the meal our little club handed out A's like they were going out of style. The only complaints I heard were that we had eaten too many of the "perfect" potatoes, and that the coffee wasn't all that good. Jimmy, true to form, gave out the harshest grade, possibly because making Hollandaise is a bit of an art, and it just wasn't his kind of Hollandaise. Our rarest form of praise came when we all agreed that we shall return. Maybe I'll finally be a regular after all.

Sunday is Beer Brewing Day

2007-10-21T12:07:00.001-05:00

Herkimer Pub & Brewery
2922 Lyndale Ave S.
Minneapolis
612.821.0101

Few good things smell as bad or as powerful as beer does when it's being made. Chocolate cake, for example, smells pretty darn good before it's done. Same for spaghetti sauce. Beer on the other hand definitely goes through a ripe and nasty stage. When it's beer in giant vats, it's even worse, and, so, good friends, eat at the Herkimer if you like, but whatever you do, don't go there for Sunday brunch, because Sunday is the day they brew the beer, and, by rights, they really shouldn't even be open. They should make a sign that says, "Closed due to Stinkiness", and we'd all be grateful for the warning.

As it was, we didn't know. We smelled something wretched as soon as we walked in the door, each of us, separately, making our own stinky face (except for Jimmy, who disappointed us by arriving last and without so much as a nose-wrinkle). Because it was late and we'd already gone to one restaurant that wasn't serving food, we chose to ride out the stink. Keep it in mind, though, because I think if you came on a Saturday, you might leave with a better opinion of the Herk for breakfast.

Fern and I both ordered steak and eggs. I got mine over-easy and medium rare. Hers were over-hard and medium. My eggs were over-a-little-too-easy, even for me, actually, since the whites as well as the yolks slimed my plate. The steak was boring. It benefited from ketchup, and I don't even like ketchup.

Judy and Rachael got mushroom and swiss burgers with sweet potato fries. The sweet potato fries compared favorably with those at the Blank Grills (which Judy referred to as "limp-dick fries"), and Judy ate her entire burger, which is a pretty high form of praise (although she did stay up all night burning calories, so she was probably starving). Rachael gave it a B. She didn't love the fries, but maybe she's eaten them somewhere better in the past. I haven't, but I'm a Northern animal.

Jimmy had the BLT, and liked it. He didn't like his side salad which came with a sweet dressing, but it looked pretty good to me. Jimmy's the wrong guy to judge a salad with anything sweet in it.

Our average was around a C+. We definitely won't be back on a Sunday. It's questionable whether we need to go there for food at all, but once that beer is done, their beer is definitely worth the trip as long as it's not stinky Sunday.

Meat's Kitchen

2007-10-16T10:40:00.000-05:00

Pete's Kitchen
1962 E. Colfax Ave.
Denver, CO 80206
303.321.3139

So here I am, alone in a wonderful city that happens to have an embarrassment of riches in the breakfast department. Do I sit all by myself and wallow in loneliness, never enjoying weekend breakfast because I am without my club members? Well, yeah, sometimes. But not all the time. Sometimes I go out and experience my new city, and I've even begun recruiting new members into the Western Chapter of TCBC. Rejoice in the new city!

After my first experience of breakfast in Denver, I decided the only prudent thing to do was to try a breakfast burrito in as many restaurants in Denver as is humanly possible over a two year span (you know, in case Fern decides to visit me). I was able to convince one of my new classmates, Cathy, to join me in the fun. Two people does not a breakfast club make, but it's a start and it is WAY better than the lonely, sad guy eating breakfast at the counter by himself.

We met up at Pete's Kitchen on Saturday morning. Pete's Kitchen is your prototypical diner. Small, lots of tables crammed together, and line out the door. I was worried as I waited for Cathy to arrive that we wouldn't be able to eat EVER. I was also a little disgruntled when I was informed that I would not be seated until my entire party had arrived. I relaxed a little when I saw the reason for this policy, a ridiculously fast turnaround. Pete's has the service thing down to a science. There was no lingering at the table over a cup of coffee. No, you sit down, you order food, you eat, and then you leave. Period, end of story. They are a finely tuned machine.

When Cathy finally arrived (late because of a biking wrong turn), we were able to get a table immediately, and on the patio no less. I ordered the breakfast burrito and Cathy the hunter's breakfast. I was extremely excited for my burrito because it contained, bacon, ham, chorizo, AND gyro meat. I was ready to experience some sort of meat nirvana. While it was very good and filling, I realized that it is possible to have too much meat in you breakfast burrito. I barely even tasted the gyro meat as it was overwhelmed by the other meats, especially the chorizo. It was good and ginormous however. I didn't eat for the rest of the day.

Cathy ordered the Hunter's Breakfast. It looked like the perfect meal to eat right before one went out into the woods and sat in a cold deer blind for the next 13 hours. Not only would it keep you warm all day, but you wouldn't be hungry until the following evening. It contained eggs and meat on top of what appeared to be 9 pounds of hash browns. Despite her valiant efforts, Cathy could not finish her meal.

Overall Pete's Kitchen received a B from both club members. The food was good and plentiful. Pete's was down graded for their Bun-o-matic coffee and a lack of refills on the coffee. They are open 24 hours and I suspect I will come back one night after bar close, I'm sure that is where Pete's Kitchen really shines.

Lardon means Bacon Fat!

2007-10-13T11:20:00.000-05:00

Barbette revisited

So, I'm not the type of person, who could comfortably order my breakfast with a side of bacon fat. I am, however, exactly the type of person who enjoys feeling a nice hunk of perfectly browned bacon fat melt in my mouth. I like the way it gives to my teeth and fills my mouth with rich bacon-y flavor without all of that awkward chewing you have to do with the meaty section of the bacon. I confess that even though I know that for health reasons I should cut the fat from my meat, I do sometimes slip a bite of pure fat into my mouth when I'm eating pork chops, because no other animal can do fat quite as well as the pig. Still, it's hard to ask for something so gross and bad-for-you in a restaurant -- which is exactly why I was so pleased to discover a new word this morning at Barbette. "Lardon" means fatty bacon, but it sounds completely refined and socially acceptable.

My meal was salad greens with poached eggs and a red wine vinaigrette and sauteed mushrooms and good sized pieces of lardon. I played a private game called "move those salad greens out of the way so I can find the bacon fat", and before I knew it my plate was empty and my stomach was nearly full. All I needed to complete the meal was a side of hash browns, which arrived like an advertisement for grated potatoes browned in a pan for breakfast. They were crispy and fluffy at the same time. God, I love Barbette. At first, I was afraid to stray from my beloved eggs Florentine, but my fear was unfounded, because I discovered a whole new world: one where you can ask for bacon fat without sounding like a disgusting pig.

Blue Plate Not-so-Special

2007-08-25T15:36:00.000-05:00

Highland Grill
771 Cleveland
St. Paul
651.690.1173

A much diminished breakfast club met this morning at the Highland Grill in St. Paul. We miss Beau and Rachael, who had a lovely wedding and then fled west for Beau's first week of school, but we soldier on, because life must go on, and we still need to eat, even without our loved ones.

It was a late meeting, because I joined a running club this morning (which met in the coffee shop next door at 9:00), so our ordering was erratic enough to draw comment from our waitress ("Who are these people?"). Jimmy got hangar steak and baked beans; Judy dithered and then ordered strawberry shortcake; Fern had a turkey burger (after making dark remarks about not-ordering the breakfast burrito); and I had the only true breakfast in the crowd: the special Caprese scramble which comes with hash browns.

Now, our family has eaten at these Blue Plate restaurants before. Locals love this chain. The food is acceptable. The atmosphere is more interesting than a Perkins. There's kind of an industrial edge to the decor, with exposed ductwork and diner-style furniture. You can tell you've walked into a Blue Plate restaurant because instead of napkins they give you a big lap towel (which can come in handy on hot summer mornings when the air conditioner is going full blast). They also have mildly amusing t-shirts ("Etch-a-sketch for the kids. Beer and wine for the grown-ups."). I guess the best way to describe the food and atmosphere is "inoffensive". You aren't going to have anything too innovative here, but it will be comforting food with good ingredients, and the portions will be big. I must confess some bias against the whole chain mostly because of the sweet potato fries. They are soggy. Gloppy, even. You have to pay a dollar more to substitute them in for regular fries (which are crispy and good), so my advice, if you have a hankering for sweet potato fries, is to head on over to the Herkimer, where they are skinny, crispy and addictive. And don't tell me how good these Blue Plate sweet potato fries are until you have. I mean, I guess, unless you like soggy fries, which is possible, but I don't get it.

Which actually brings us to the representative quote about today's breakfast. It came from Judy who raved about her strawberry shortcake. She loved the scone base and the fact that the strawberry juice hadn't soaked into it, so it wasn't soggy. Well, I took one bite and put down my fork. The scone was so dry it tasted like sawdust to me. I needed water in order to swallow it. When I complained, Judy said, "Well, one person's perfect is another person's nasty, I guess."

She, in fact, didn't really like my eggs, but I enjoyed them quite a bit. I liked the whole basil leaves and the chunks of fresh mozzarella. The bits of tomatoes soaked in balsamic vinegar provided a nice sweet-and-sour touch. The hash browns looked better than they were, however, because only the outer layer was crispy.

Fern's turkey burger won some sort of Twin Cities best-burger award, and it sounded flavorful because it was packed with garlic, onions, and jalapeños, but she said it wasn't as rich as it sounded. She declared that no reputable best-burger award should go to any turkey burger. Burgers should be beef, damn it. Still, she said she'd go back and get a real burger there sometime, because the bun was good, and the (regular potato) fries were delicious.

Jimmy's comments mostly regarded service, which he deemed too slow even for a crowded morning. Our waitress did vanish for a longer than necessary period between menu drop-off and ordering. His steak looked good to me, but it was a little early in the morning for me to be thinking baked beans.

And so our family's ambivalence about Blue Plate restaurants continues. They do some things well. They just don't seem to deserve the devotion they get from the locals. Oh, well, what can you do? The more people eat at all these Blank Grills, the more tables we'll find at our own personal favorite spots.

Big Al's Top Five Breakfasts

2007-07-22T21:09:00.000-05:00

Occasionally, someone asks me where to eat breakfast in town. Not everyone knows that this blog exists, so they don't all know to just look here for my recommendations. Besides, there are so many reviews here, how can you tell at a glance what the best five restaurants are? OK, here they are: my personal top five places to eat breakfast in the Twin Cities.

Barbette. It's always good, and I almost always get the Eggs Florentine. It comes with some fresh field greens, so you don't even have to feel bloated after breakfast. The atmosphere is comfortable, and we've been there often enough that we get slight nods of recognition from the wait staff.
Town Talk. How can you argue with a restaurant that's only two miles from home, and has steak and eggs so good they make you want to cry? How can you fight the charms of the owners who want you to have a good time and the bartenders who will mix you a special drink? Maybe you can, but I can't.
Maria's Cafe. She's the only one who makes that corn pancake, and the corn pancake is the only breakfast in town I literally crave if I haven't had one in a while. I can't write any more details, because it's been weeks, and I hate trying to wipe drool off of my keyboard.
Day By Day Cafe. For traditional breakfast, it can't really be beat. Hash browns are unreliable, but you can't have everything, can you?
A Baker's Wife. It's an upset, because it's just a bakery with no eggs, but there are certainly days when I just have pastry and coffee for breakfast, and on such days, I'm lucky if they come from A Baker's Wife.

Now, what about the rest of you? What are your top-five breakfasts in the Cities?

You Snooze - You Win!

2007-07-17T21:41:00.000-05:00

We here at Twin Cities Breakfast Club interrupt this blog with some good news and some bad news. The good news first, of course, because we are such fans of good things early in the morning. Beau and Rachael are getting hitched! I mean, it's not really a surprise, since they've been engaged for-freaking-ever, and they've been meant for each other since day one, but it's good news nonetheless. Now for the bad news. Right after the wedding (like within days), Beau is up and moving to Denver, CO. Even this news has some good to it. He's going to graduate school to study what he wants to do, and it will probably lead to a happy and successful career for him involving very few refrigerated baked goods.

Anyway, along with this good/bad news comes a necessary split in the Breakfast Club. Beau will continue to eat breakfast, so he will continue to be a member, but his breakfasts will take place in Denver, while ours here at Breakfast Club East will continue to occur in these Twin Cities. Rachael will belong to both clubs, because she will be staying here and visiting there. We expect many great posts from Rachael as a result.

And now, for our first Denver review. This breakfast was attended by Jimmy, Beau and me. We were looking for apartments for Beau. Yes, we found one. Yes, it has hardwood floors. And, yes, a gas stove. Not to mention plenty of room for a certain lawfully wedded wife to visit.

Snooze (an A.M. Eatery)
2262 Larimer
Denver, CO
303.297.0700

The menu at Snooze reads like a trip through Willie Wonka's Chocolate Factory. There's vanilla almond oatmeal brulee and pineapple upside down pancakes and snicker's pancakes and molten chocolate French toast. I prefer my breakfast savory, so, for me, anyway, all of the sweets turned the menu into a mine field, forcing me to dodge and weave as I tried to find something suitably substantial that wouldn't beat me over the head with its sweetness. I finally settled on the Huevos Rancheros, but not before lingering a bit over the possibility of steak and eggs benedict. Clearly this is not a low-fat A.M. eatery. I might have taken the plunge and ordered steak and eggs benedict, if only it came with just two eggs. No, man. Three eggs were standard throughout the menu. Apparently, Denverians must exercise their asses off, because they all look slender and athletic, and there's no way to be slender and eat three eggs, steak and hollandaise sauce, unless you're also running up mountains every day.

Jimmy, who was on vacation from his weight training diet, did order the steak and eggs. He loved it. He said that it was one of the best steaks he'd ever had at a restaurant for breakfast. I had to hide my jealousy behind my Tres Huevos. Actually, with three eggs, black beans, and corn tortillas in front of me, I wasn't really hungry for steak anyway, not even really good steak smothered in hollandaise sauce.

Beau had the breakfast burrito. He said that he wanted to report back to Fern how breakfast burritos in Denver stacked up against her beloved Minneapolis treat. It was a successful experiment. The burrito was crammed full of goodness including black beans, cheddar and jack cheese and real chorizo. He declared the burrito delicious. Both he and I agreed that our spicier breakfast options were served with a bit more fire than Minneapolis restaurants would dare serve to Minnesota customers with their delicate Scandinavian palates. Judy wasn't there, but she would have declared both meals "too spicy". Beau and I were happy, though, even if I did wish I had some delicious steak.

The atmosphere at Snooze was also enjoyable. It was retro and hip at the same time. We sat in a round booth, which felt a little bit Jetsons and a little bit Tilt-a-Whirl. The waiters and waitresses wore Snooze t-shirts over their perfect bodies, and they smiled with that outdoorsy charm of the young in Denver. I just hope we didn't spoil Beau for all other breakfasts in town. It's no good to have your first breakfast fulfill your entire breakfast quest in a new town. What will you do on a Saturday morning if not seek out the perfect meal? Eat it comfortably at Snooze week after week?

The Flapper Strikes Again

2007-06-28T11:52:00.000-05:00

Chai's Thai
414 1/2 Cedar Av. S.
Minneapolis
612-339-9385

It was after 7:00 in the evening and I hadn't eaten. If you know me at all, then you know that this constitutes a true Food Emergency, and it requires drastic measures. We were at Cedar Riverside, having just shopped for camping gear at Midwest Mountaineering. Gone is the place with the gyros that replaced the Cedar Riverside Cafe when the demographics of the neighborhood changed. Of course, Hard Times is there, but having never eaten there and having heard that it's the dirtiest restaurant in the county, I didn't want to try it out in this time of urgent need. There's also a small, dirty looking Chinese place nearby, but I wasn't resigned to dirty yet. Just as I was about to accept that I might be eating hot dogs at that other truly filthy place, I saw a small, well-maintained awning across the street. At first I feared that it was a tea shop (the name was Chai, after all), but then I noticed the second word, and realized that there was clean food to be had in the neighborhood after all.

I stepped inside and discovered that there is one spotless restaurant at Cedar Riverside. Even the knick-knacks were dusted. At first, I thought maybe it was a brand-new place, but the waiter claimed that it has been there for years. How had I never seen it right across the street from Depth of Field? What was it doing in this predominantly Somali neighborhood? Who remembers to dust decorative elephants? Perhaps someone who remembers to wash the table after you eat. A good sign. I ordered the Pad Kee Mow noodle dish (for $8), and I asked for it hot. My companion had Seafood Herbs which has shrimp and scallops and shitake mushrooms and still costs just $12.

When the food arrived, I learned many other good things about Chai's. It's not just clean. The $8 noodles are delicately presented on a folded banana leaf. They really are hot, but underneath the heat they have a delicious flavor of their own. The Seafood Herbs have a completely different, but equally delicious flavor and come with their own delicate presentation. I felt like an intrepid explorer who had stumbled upon some sort of gold mine of flavor hidden behind a little awning in one of the lowest rent parts of the city. I felt like the Queen for eating perfect food off of such a pretty plate. I felt like a bargain hunter for paying so little for such bounty. Mostly I felt like shouting it to the world. Hey! Everybody! Eat at Chai's! You'll love it. However, bear in mind, once again, that there aren't that many tables. I'm going to get crabby if I have to wait in line for those noodles.

I know it's not breakfast, but it is fresh delicious Thai food for cheap. Who can fault me for wanting to share it with the world?

Secret Hash-browns

2007-05-30T22:12:00.002-05:00

I am stuck on the horns of a dilemma. You know how our family is on a never-ending quest for decent hash-browns, and we go on this quest together, because we love each other, and we all love potatoes? Well, what happens, hypothetically, if one of our members goes to a restaurant that is far too small to accommodate a party of our size, for an on-the-sly breakfast experience without the rest of the club?

I decided that I would solve the dilemma by never writing about it on the blog. I decided that if I loved it, I would keep it to myself anyway, because it really is far too small for anyone new to go there. There isn't even room for the people who already do know about it, so what business have I to inform even the ten people who read this blog that it exists? If it were delicious, I decided, I would keep it to myself. (Which is hard for me, I might add, because I am not called the Flapper for nothing...)

If it sucked, I would also keep it to myself. How could I trash such a small, unassuming, family-owned business? In fact, either way, I could go out, have my quiet little breakfast, and no one would be the wiser. My family would never have to know that I had breakfast with another.

OK, OK, but the thing is, there's the potato quest, which is sort of a higher calling, and the truth is, I had the perfect hash brown, at this quiet, little, overcrowded, family-owned business, while I was out cheating on my family over Sunday breakfast, and all I want to do now is shout it from the rooftops of the world. The perfect potato. Really. Never frozen. Richly browned and crispy, but almost healthy tasting from a lack of greasiness. The only competition for these potatoes comes from Jimmy's kitchen, when whoever is cooking the potatoes tries to keep them in the skillet until even Judy will say they're brown enough.

The rest of the food was only so-so, but who cares? Somebody actually cooked my potatoes until they were crispy. Somebody cared enough to never freeze them, and then dedicate some grill space and time to them. Somebody shaped them nice and flat so the insides wouldn't get soggy, and somebody carried them outside to me, even though I didn't say anything special like, "extra crispy".

So, OK, here's the deal. I don't want you to go there and take up the seats, but I do have the responsibility to tell you that the potatoes are perfect. Just don't tell anybody else, OK?

Colossal Cafe
1839 E. 42nd St.
Minneapolis, MN
612.729.2377

Rehashing the Town Talk

2007-05-13T07:42:00.000-05:00

I believe I gave the Town Talk diner a tepid grade last time. It might have even been as low as a C+. Well, let me tell you, yesterday morning, I ate steak and eggs there that had to raise their grade at least a full letter. Granted, it was 11:00 by the time the food arrived (speed of service lowered the grade, which surprised me because sometimes at the TT you feel over-served), and I had been up since 6:00, and I had run for half an hour of that time, so I was fairly faint with hunger by the time I ate. However, even in my state of near-starvation, I was able to recognize that the food on my plate was flawless. The potatoes were American fries, and they were crispy enough. Yes, I did say that the American fries were crispy enough. It was a good day. The steak arrived cooked exactly to my liking, which is a miracle since I totally choked when I ordered and said something like, "Um, medium. On the rare side. I mean, rare-ish". And the eggs, well, frankly, I don't remember the eggs very well, because I ate them before my plate hit the table. The yolks did mix well with the slight sauce that covered the steak and made for some good plate-sopping. The whole meal made me grateful for food.

But you know how I get when I haven't eaten for seventeen hours.

Brownie's and Brownberry

2007-04-07T15:10:00.000-05:00

Brownie's Restaurant
2510 Kenzie Ter
St. Anthony, MN 55418

We ate at Brownie's this morning. It was a typical diner. The waitress was exceedingly nice. Apparently, she hadn't heard the This American Life thing about how mean waitresses get bigger tips. Lucky for us. Also, lucky for her, Jimmy's tips are big no matter how nice you are. The food was diner-y. Judy hated it, and I wouldn't recommend that you make a special trip to discover Brownie's, and if you already live in the neighborhood, I'm sure you have your own opinion, so I won't waste your time.

Instead, this post has to be about something far more disturbing to Twin Cities Breakfast Club members. Did you know that we are living in the midst of a bread crisis? Seriously. All of my life, bread came in a hard loaf wrapped in clear plastic with red and black writing on it. This was Catherine Clark's Brownberry bread. It was the only whole wheat bread we ate after Jimmy and Judy stopped making their own. It was the only kind we liked. I hate to sound whiny, but we've been eating this bread for thirty years, and now, poof, it's gone. There is no more Catherine Clark's.

I'm a single person who can't make it through a loaf of bread by myself, so I haven't bought bread in months, which is why I only found out about this crisis today at breakfast club. Actually, the first whispers of it were before breakfast, when I saw one of the old ladies at my parents' house carrying a piece of bread to the toaster. "How's the bread, Ann?" asked my mom in the kind of voice you use when you ask how someone is holding up at a funeral. "Not so good," said Ann in a defeated voice, "but I'm going to try it toasted." Odd, I thought.

I got the whole shocking news at breakfast, when Rachael informed us that she and Beau had even written to the company to complain about the new bread, and all they got was a letter thanking them for their feedback and some coupons for the new, bad bread. "What?!" I said, "There's no more bread? But there used to be so much of it..." Yes, friends, you can eat the same product faithfully for three decades but when corporate America decides not to make it any more, it's just too bad for you. No more bread.

I lived in Portland for two and a half years. I couldn't find real bread there either. It made me not want to eat BLT's. It made me lose interest in French toast. It was a sad time. I tried other breads. Many other breads. None of them were as good as good old Catherine Clark's. They lacked the density and the ever-so-slight sweetness of the real thing.

Remember when we were kids and for some reason we had to put bread bags over our socks before we could put on our boots? The bread bags I used were clear plastic with red and black writing on them. Whatever will my children (should I ever have them) use? The bread bag of some inferior wheat bread? This is so wrong. Why, oh why, didn't I fill my freezer with bread before this whole crisis began? Maybe if I'd bought more bread this never would have happened.

Big as your Head

2007-04-02T13:57:00.000-05:00

Ike's Food and Cocktails
50 S. 6th Street
Minneapolis, MN
612.746.4537

Judy and I were first to arrive at Ike's this weekend. We told them six people were coming, and they ushered us to a secluded booth underneath posters of Rat Pack members (Frank Sinatra and one of those other guys). Almost before we had positioned ourselves in the booth, and before we had even explored the menus, our charming, Southern waitress delivered a caramel roll as big as our head to the table. It was stuck with 6 forks, just waiting for us and our tardy friends to dig in. We didn't order the pastry. It just comes with brunch.

You should know something about Breakfast Club. We love food. We're food snobs, and we like to eat. But we've also lost a combined weight of over 150 pounds in the past three years (and not in an unhealthy way, mind you. We've continued to eat. We're just more sensible than we used to be.) I must say that the caramel roll as big as your head would have been more in Ike's favor about four years ago. Nowadays, it just looks like fat to us. It doesn't help that it comes with a giant pat of butter on top.

Still. Still. I like to think that if an unrequested, but fabulous pastry arrived, even if it were as big as your head, and even if we were all a little more health conscious than we were four years ago, we'd be nothing but grateful. The thing is, it wasn't fabulous. It was just big, sweet, over-brown, and covered in good butter.

It made me think of landing in Chicago, after spending two weeks in Japan. In Japan, when you're between trains at a train station, you can buy a perfect little triangle of rice and fish wrapped in seaweed. There's an ingenious unwrapping of plastic that goes with this triangle of rice. Not until you unwrap it does the seaweed touch the rice. This prevents it from getting all soggy and nasty. So we landed in Chicago, a little bit hungry from our long flight, and the smell of Cinnabon in the airport just about knocked us over. It didn't smell good, because Cinnabon is crap, but even so, it sort of made me want to eat something fat and buttery. I looked around the airport and all I could see were fat people, and then I realized that before the smell, what I really wanted was a triangle of rice. Unfortunately, in this country, it's a lot easier to make bad choices about what we're going to eat than good ones.

One of those bad choices is eating the not-so-very-good cinnamon roll that they deliver to your table at Ike's before you've even had coffee or a chance to think about what you really want to eat. I'm not going to tell you to skip it, because I know you won't, and it's not a bad cinnamon roll. I'm just saying I wish I had skipped it.

Meanwhile, our pleasant, Southern waitress explained how Ike's works. You order your eggs (the usual ways or as eggs Benedict or in a breakfast quesadilla or you can choose to stand up and visit the omelet bar. Yeah. Right.), and then they deliver a family sized tray of meat and potatoes and pancakes to go with them. They will refill the meat and potatoes and pancake until you can take no more. See what I'm saying about bad choices? The whole thing, with the giant roll, is $14.99. It's also the only thing you can have at brunch time, so forget about opting for the burger instead.

I wasn't impressed with my Benedict (but I made that bad choice on my own). The crowd generally liked the potatoes while at the same time noticing that they weren't crispy enough. They were fried with onions and tasted fresh. The bacon and sausage were tasty. They struck me as a bit mass-produced, but this may have been just because I saw the dude frying mass quantities of meat as we walked in the door. I also worried about how many pounds of meat they throw away each day because of the all-you-can-eat thing, but I guess sometimes I have to shut off my brain so I can have a good time.

OK, so I guess what I'm saying is that Ike's is fine if you can take that sort of thing. There are lots of better choices in Minneapolis though, so I don't think I'll go there again, despite totally loving the booth and our waitress who kept the cream and sugar coming for our coffee.

I'm Finnished.

2007-03-26T18:01:00.000-05:00

The Finnish Bistro
2264 Como Avenue
St. Paul, MN 55108
651.645.9181

Pretend you are about to embark on a vacation to Finland. Think of ten things that define Finland and that you would attempt to integrate into your vacation. Here's my somewhat random list: Scenic vistas, cold weather, nice people, left-of-center politics, art, saunas, the wife-carrying world championships, northern lights, midnight sun. Do you notice what is missing? Food. Was food on your list? Didn't think so. Finland is not exactly world famous for it's high cuisine. That's part of the reason why I was slightly skeptical as we strolled into The Finnish Bistro on Sunday morning.

The Finnish Bistro was not the intended destination. TCBC convened on Sunday morning around nine. One of the benefits to a Sunday breakfast club is the option of a schmancy Sunday brunch. Alex suggested that we try Muffuletta, of which she had heard many good things about their weekend offerings. Unfortunately she didn't hear that they were closed for repairs until the beginning of April. We discovered this when we arrived at Muffuletta. With our hopes dashed, our stomachs grumbling, and a meltdown a distinct possibility, someone spotted the Finnish Bistro down the street. We decided to peek out heads in and look at the menu. The place was crowded (usually a good sign), there was a distinct welcoming atmosphere, and there was a dazzling array of baked goods on display. Our group was weak from hunger and the idea of walking away from food and having to come up with an alternative was extremely unappealing. We were sold.

The food was a bit of a letdown. The standard breakfast menu is pretty limited, with almost no option to freelance. Three of us had the house breakfast and we were all disappointed with it. The big selling point to the house breakfast was the grilled kielbasa. Unfortunately it resembled a Ballpark frank more then a kielbasa. Is that what kielbasa is like in Finland? Fern had the breakfast foccacia and was only able to eat about a quarter of it. On the plus side, it DID closely resemble a part of Pamela Anderson's anatomy. Jimmy took the authentic approach and had the salmon lefse. He didn't hate, but didn't love it. The overall grade was a C.

No member of the group particularly enjoyed their meal, but no one was willing to bash the Bistro. It is a really nice place in an adorable neighborhood. There are many things to like about it. It is clear that they do some things VERY well at the Finnish Bistro. Their baked goods looked spectacular and their lunch/sandwich options also looked delicious. Breakfast just is not their focus, and for a demanding group like ourselves, that won't cut it. We recommend that you go to the Finnish Bistro for some baked goods, or a sandwich, or a beef pasty, just don't go there expecting an inspired breakfast.

I Found my Keys

2007-03-09T15:10:00.000-06:00

Keys Cafe
821 Marquette Ave
Minneapolis, MN 55402

Maybe you've noticed that our little blog never mentions one of the staples of Twin Cities breakfast dining. The reason: Judy always vetoes Keys. I'm not sure why, but her nose wrinkles at the very mention of the place. I suspect she once had bad potatoes there. Sometimes my mother can hold a grudge.

This morning I ate breakfast at Keys, and I discovered that they are no longer in that dingy basement-feeling space they used to occupy on Nicollet. They are now in the Foshay tower, which is much classier digs, full of art-deco light fixtures and an old phone booth and full-sized windows. They do have some of the same art that they used to have on Nicollet. I recognized the photograph of the little girl, but she's been moved to the bathroom area. Poor kid. Anyway, according to my companion (a non-club member), Keys also serves up a great happy hour and over-priced diner-style dinners.

I had the garlic, spinach, and cream cheese scramble. It was heavy on the tasty fresh garlic, and so I have no complaints. I usually hate scrambled eggs, and I only make an exception when they have been scrambled with cream cheese, and at Keys I was glad that I did, because they tasted good, and they didn't have that consolidated texture of scrambled eggs that I hate. The piles of fresh spinach and the cream cheese helped break up the egg mass.

And OK, mom, the potatoes weren't perfect. They had layers of true crispiness on top and bottom, but the middle was mainly just soggy shredded potatoes. Still, the tops and bottoms tasted good, and I didn't need to eat the whole portion anyway.

Adam, the non-club member, said that the bacon was good. I can report that he happily ate a massive amount of it, so I think he was telling the truth. He did say that he liked his bacon a little bit limp, though, so I'm not sure how it would go over with the club.

I give the new Keys a solid B. I could eat there again and again. I mean, I could if Judy would ever stop vetoing it.

Why We Don't Usually Eat at Bars: A Conversation at the Herkimer

2007-02-18T15:07:00.000-06:00

Judy: Hmm. I guess I'll have a coffee - wait, do you have skim milk?
Waiter: Sorry, ma'am, we don't have any milk.
Judy: No milk?
Waiter: No. We don't have any milk.
Judy: Well, what if I just wanted a glass of milk on the side? Could I just order a glass of milk?
Waiter (maintaining admirable patience): No. We don't serve milk.
Judy: What kind of a restaurant doesn't have milk?
Waiter (glancing meaningfully towards the bar): Well, we could give you a shot of tequilla.

Judy (many times throughout the meal and again whenever we mention the Herkimer throughout the week): No milk. I just can't believe that a restaurant doesn't have milk.

In the Phone Book under "A"

2007-02-04T10:41:00.000-06:00

A Baker's Wife Pastry Shop
4200 28th Ave S
Minneapolis, MN 55406-3123

I don't remember exactly how I discovered "A Baker's Wife". I mean, it's in the neighborhood, so I was probably just at the hardware store next door, when I smelled the deliciousness and had to stop in to see if the taste was as good as the smell. I like to think of that first visit, even though I don't fully remember it, because it represents a divide in my life. The time in my life before I knew about "A Baker's Wife" stretches behind me dark and gray and full of horrid Crispy Creme donuts. In front of me is a time when Saturday morning can mean really good coffee in styrofoam cups and pastry so good it makes you have to close your eyes for a second so you can get lost in the taste of it.

If you go, get the chocolate croissant. Or on second thought, maybe don't, because if you do, it will furnish you with all of the will-power you need to avoid eating chocolate croissants anywhere else in the world (even, possibly, France). You will never want to eat another one that doesn't come from Gary's inspired oven. I have a friend who doesn't eat Cheetos because he once heard about how good they were on the assembly line fresh out of the cooker, and when he gets a bag all he can think about is that he's having a second-class Cheeto experience. After your first bite of "Baker's Wife" chocolate croissant, it will be like that for you and all other chocolate croissants.

A safer order might be the creme brulee danish. Nobody else makes such a thing, so it won't ruin it for you at other bakeries. In fact, who would have thought of filling your danish with gorgeous creme and then browning sugar on top of it? I'll tell you who. A baking genius. That's who. When you order this danish, glance sideways at people around you. They will be nodding slightly, as if to say, "Good choice, my friend. You are someone who knows about this little Minneapolis secret."

Then again, you might just want a donut. Forget everything you know about cake donuts at bakeries, and bite into something that more closely resembles a mini-donut all growed up. They can give it to you plain, or they can roll it in cinnamon sugar for you. Either way, the outsides will crunch as they yield to your teeth, and the insides will melt in your mouth. You will wonder just how you could have bought a piece of perfection for so little money.

Money is the one thing I don't understand about "A Baker's Wife". Here they are serving the best pastries in town, and they charge about half of what anybody else does. You can go there with $2.00, and leave with a donut, a cup of coffee, and some change. Or you can splurge and spend $1.69 on your pastry and get the danish or the croissant. $1.69, really, what year is it? In my day and age, people would easily give you $2.50 for such deliciousness. But don't tell Gary.

There's a hand-drawn sign in the shop with two pac-man heads having a conversation. One of them says "Do you have anything low-fat and low-calorie here?" The other one says, "Water". In the corner, someone has written the words "True story". So don't embarrass me, after I told you to go there, and expect to stay on your diet. We're talking pastry here. Fabulous, cheap, top of the line pastry. We're not talking "Splenda" and "Olestra".

"A Baker's Wife" is under "A" in the phone book due to creative alphabetizing. It also receives an "A" from me for spoiling me on many dozens of weekend mornings. Oh, and it's closed on Mondays, just like the Walker.

Across the River and Over the Hill to Mill City We Go

2007-02-03T16:06:00.000-06:00

Mill City Cafe
2205 California Street #102
Minneapolis MN, 55418
Phone: 612 788-6188

Years ago, we used to sometimes go to Mill City Cafe for breakfast. It was an unassuming coffee place with full breakfast, and the eggs are cooked on a stove and not steamed in the espresso maker, which is an unspoken requirement for all coffee-places-turned-breakfast-joints, at least for this overly-particular crowd. And, of course, when I say "unspoken", I really mean loudly repeated whenever one of us suggests a place with coffee or cafe in the name. Mill City also sports probably the best breakfast patio in town. Today, however, in our fair city, it's nearly 20 degrees below zero, and the patio played no role in our decision to try Mill City again after a long absence.

We were driven away from Mill City Cafe all of those years ago by live coffee house music. I'm not the best judge of the quality of music (listen to me sing all three songs I know all in the same one note with approximately the same rhythm, and you will know why), but I do know that in a place the size of Mill City, the music intruded on our conversation.

Today, the place was blessedly quiet. Mill City has also received a face-lift. It's classier now. A little less unassuming, and more like the kind of place you might bring a date. The menu is about the same though: Chorizo Breakfast Burrito, Biscuits and Gravy, and Quiches of the Day. Poor Fern wanted her usual breakfast burrito. We all saw it on her face, but she forced herself to get something else to prove to us that she didn't. Beau and Rachael both got it, and the two of them seemed the happiest of all of us with their meals. Judy and I got two of the quiches and we agreed that while the light, flaky phyllo-type crust was delicious neither filling particularly thrilled us (mine had artichokes and mushrooms and Judy's had asparagus and bacon).

The only really bad thing about the meal were the potatoes. They were sad little roasted potatoes, dry on the inside, and soft on the outside, even the few of them that looked brown. All of us who got potatoes left some of them behind. We're a family who cares about the quality of our potatoes, and I predict that we will not be back to Mill City until one of those rare summer mornings before the wasps come when we can eat on its lovely patio.

The group grade hovered around a B-. Not bad. Nice atmosphere. Nothing to write home about, but we did leave with full stomachs and we didn't have to wait for a table.

The Year in Breakfast

2007-01-06T13:17:00.000-06:00

Let's take a trip in the "way back" machine. Do you remember 2006? Long time ago right? It was a pretty good year. A lot of breakfast was had, some good, some...er...not so good. Beau drank many cups of coffee with excessive amounts of cream and sugar, Judy had a lot of poached eggs, Jimmy sampled the eggs benedict from at least eight restaurants, Alex drank gallons of tea with so much sugar it tastes like a candy bar, Rachael didn't take nearly enough Lactaid pills, and Fern had many, many breakfast burritos. Here are some highlights and lowlights. Note this is NOT one of those annoying 2006 lists, merely a quick recap of our year in breakfast...

Best Overall Breakfast: The Day By Day Cafe. I know it is not a risky choice, but they know what they are doing. We would probably go there once a month if they weren't located in Guam. Well Guam in respect to south Minneapolis. You St. Paulers are really, really lucky.

Best Potatoes: Soba's Cafe. What a complete upset, turns out the best potatoes are neither in the shape of hash browns nor fried on the griddle. The oven roasted potatoes at Soba's are spectacular. One would think you could not reach sufficient crispiness with the oven alone. Not true. On one of our ventures, one member of our group complained because her potatoes were so crispy that they cut the roof of her mouth. Good thing we aren't dainty and particular...oops, never mind let's just move on.

Best Meat: The Corner Table. Local ham and homemade sausage. Enough said. Whenever someone suggests that we go to the Corner Table and Judy says, "Have we been there before and is it good?" All we have to say is, "Yes and yes, remember, it's the place with the meat." That's enough to spark her memory, and if you know Judy that's saying a lot.

Best Coffee/Cream Supply: Trotter's Cafe. Given how difficult and particular we are (and by we, I mean me) only one form of coffee and cream supply would do, do it yourself. I know Alex will disagree with this as she likes to be served, but this is my post, so there. There is no way a waitress can keep up with my standard coffee intake. Trotter's serves great coffee (Peace coffee) and they have a lovely coffee station with ample amounts of condiments. Crema should also get a mention since they are DIY as well, but they have such little space our big group is usually crammed in somewhere and thus the coffee station is inaccessible to many.

Best Meal That Wasn't Breakfast: The Acadia Cafe. Their sandwich selection is simply superb. Completely unrivaled. Every time our breakfast club meetings have a delayed start I try and think of ways to make sure it becomes brunch club and suggest the Acadia. It's that good.

Most Reliable Breakfast: Barbette. We very rarely walk away from a meal at Barbette unsatisfied. The only time Barbette is rejected as an option is when someone in the group has been there recently. We're almost always in the mood for Barbette. There is also the added bonus of having the potential to see a local celebrity. Including, I kid you not, Walter Mondale wearing what appeared to be a woman's sweater.

Best Breakfast Club Post: New Uptowner Cafe. Fern's homage to Jane Austen was simply sublime. I enjoyed reading it so much I forgot that it was a restaurant review and was sad when it was over. Kudos!

Worst Breakfast: The Copper Dome Restaurant. I very badly wanted to the pick the Wilde Roast Cafe, but would have been roundly overruled by the group. Most of the group who had the misfortune of going to the Copper Dome spent their afternoon dealing with stomachs that, "churned like laundry." Not good times.

Feel free to add your own best and worst of 2006 (including worst writer=Amadeus). Here's to a fresh start to 2007 with many new restaurants to explore...

On Scones

2006-11-21T19:19:00.001-06:00

Rustica Bakery
816 W. 46th St.
Minneapolis
612.822.1119

Even as someone who sometimes orders scones, I don't really understand them. They are dry, hard, hockey pucks of dough that crumble all over your lap as you try to eat them while driving. I actually only order them when I don't feel like wrestling with muffin-paper as I drive, and usually it's because it's been a while, and I've forgotten how they get lodged in your throat until you have to force the peristalsis to reengage with large gulps of coffee.

So last week, I was driving to the suburban hinterlands to teach the math, and I hadn't had coffee or breakfast, and for some reason I was over in Jimmy and Judy's neighborhood, so I stopped at Java Jack's, which is now attached to a very good bakery called Rustica. I got my coffee at one counter and my bakery treat at the other counter (an inconvenience I don't like, but I'm sure you knew that, or I wouldn't have brought it up). I got a scone at Rustica, and suddenly scones made sense. It was delicious. Mine was a cherry-chocolate concoction, which melted in my mouth. The outer layer had a slight crunch to it, and the inside had a soft comforting texture. I don't know how to describe it. I think it must be what scones were always meant to be, and I never knew it because I've only ever had bad scones.

Anyway, I went back on the weekend (when the two-line deal was even more annoying because the Rustica one was far less efficient than Jack's), and tried to replicate the experiment. They didn't have cherry-chocolate, so I got orange-chocolate. It wasn't the same revelatory experience, partly because of the orange peel flavor, but, believe me, I'm going to try again. There will come another day when I need a scone, and from now on Rustica is the place for me.

The Copper Dome Scandal

2006-11-19T14:48:00.000-06:00

The Copper Dome Restaurant
1333 Randolph Ave
St Paul
(651) 690-0993

It's best to write these things when your stomach still feels like it's full of churning laundry. Otherwise, you might forget and soften the words to seem more kind.

This morning we ate at the popular and crowded Copper Dome Restaurant in St. Paul at the recommendation of an otherwise nice young man I met this week. We arrived at 10:15, which, fortunately, it turns out is an OK time to get a table, because we did not have to wait for a table for five (but when we left an hour later, the line went out the door). Our table came with a good-sized bowl of what at first appeared to be cream, but turned out instead to be (gasp!) non-dairy creamer. Fatal mistake for the Copper Dome. Judy requested a pitcher of milk, and was briskly informed that it would cost extra. (Not a deterrent for Jude, but still a bit off-putting.) Jimmy declared that we would not return. In defense of the creamer, real cream would have been wasted on the coffee that is served at the Dome. This is nasty, wretched coffee-water. Whatever you do, don't drink it. There must be another way to get the necessary morning caffeine. Maybe they serve Coke.

Sitting at the table at the Copper Dome and choking down the despicable non-dairy creamed coffee, while going through the menu is an assault on all of your senses. The food smells are strong and rich (although not unpleasant). The walls are covered in an astounding collection of old flour sacks (including one with a diagram of a wheat kernel that would make Georgia O'Keefe blush and another set decorated with offensive Aunt Jemima characters). Our good cousin Perley would not do well with these walls of framed flour sacks. With the sheer quantity of them, it's perhaps inevitable that many of them would be crooked. Perles likes his straight lines and right angles, not this crazy array of mismatched frames that tilt every which way. Oh, and then there is the menu. It looks like a dozen bingo cards lined up side-by-side, there are so many options, printed in neat little squares. Beau had to close one side of the menu so he could just focus on one third of the options.

I chose the potato pancake wrapped around bacon, sour cream, onions, and green peppers which came with a side of margarine. Just writing these words makes my stomach cramp. Rachael got a "Cajun" omelet, although she couldn't explain what exactly made it Cajun. The others stuck with some version of eggs and hash-browns and meat. The hash-browns arrived somewhat yellow, not golden-brown as promised. The more health conscious members of the club suspected that trans-fats may have been involved in their preparation.

And so we came, we ate, and we left, burping as we went. Judy delicately excused herself for each burp. We moaned softly as we encountered bumps on the road back across the river. It almost seemed beside the point to ask for grades, given the intestinal distress in the car, but Beau and Rachael denied hating their food. Rachael even gave it a B-. She was the most generous. Beau's grade: C+, Jimmy's: C, Judy's: C-. Mine is a D, because I can imagine worse, but I do hesitate to pass a restaurant that makes me feel this ill.

How Do You Solve A Problem Like Maria?

2006-10-21T16:28:00.000-05:00

Maria's Cafe
1113 Franklin Ave. E.
Minneapolis, MN
612.870.9842

Luckily Maria's Cafe doesn't have any real problems, I just needed to come up with a witty title to this post. This was not our first trip to Maria's, but it has been a very long time since our last visit. We clearly were due for a visit as any twin cities breakfast review site worth its salt should be able to discuss Maria's and their world famous cachapas venezolanas (corn pancakes). It had been so long since our last trip that when cousin Perley ordered a meal that consisted of nothing but meat and eggs, our served told us about this great new healthy way to diet where you just eat protein and stay away from carbohydrates. The good Dr. Judy waited until he walked away and then intoned, "Yeah, really healthy, until your kidneys fail and then you die."

It was a slightly depleted breakfast club that walked into Maria's around 10 am on Saturday. Fern was slaving away in the service industry and my suggestion to leave an empty space at the table in her memory was voted down. There was one positive to this development however, as it meant we could all pile into one car without forcing someone to hunker down in the way back of the station wagon. Alex drove and admirably showed off her newly honed manual transmission skills (reverse is still a little tricky). Maria's immediately earned a solid check in the positive column. Here it was, 10 am on a Saturday the restaurant was packed, and yet we were seated after waiting a mere two minutes. Maria's is absolutely massive. There are three different rooms, all very large. Ample seating for everyone!

The dining experience at Maria's was tremendous. The group sampled from across the menu, Rachael and Judy both had the daily special, one scrambled egg, black beans, sausage, arepa, and sauteed sweet plantains. They both gave it an A, but could have split one and had more then enough to eat. Jimmy had the standard breakfast and would have given it an A, but the potatoes tasted as though they had been frozen at one point, so it received a B. I had an egg sandwich and it was tasty, but I gave the meal a B due to the lack of coffee refills (I am WAY too demanding on that front, I know). Alex got one corn pancake (with cheese) and a side of sausage, gave it an A, but was only able to eat half of her meal. The corn pancake is tasty, but extremely filling. Overall grade of the meal was a B+.

The TCBC highly recommends Maria's Cafe. We did agree however that it does not make the cut as an "old standard". The food is great, but very heavy and not the sort of thing you can eat everyday Saturday, unless of course you plan on weighing 350 pounds in six months. We will return to Maria's, but it won't be next week.

Swann Song in Kansas City

2006-10-18T20:58:00.000-05:00

Blue Bird Bistro
1700 Summit
Kansas City, MO

Our good friend, Kristen, got married this weekend. Somehow, even with all of the make-up and floral arrangements going on, she still managed to take Fern and me out for breakfast and some laughs on the very day of her wedding. She practically begged us to put a review of our meal on this site. Now, it's hard to say no to a bride on her wedding day, but we tried. We wanted to preserve the integrity of our mission. We are a Twin Cities Breakfast club. Kansas City has no twin. Judy, Beau, Rachael, Beau, and Jimmy have never even heard of the Blue Bird Bistro. However, when my food arrived, I decided to make an exception. Plus, I love Kristen, and she treated us to a fabulous meal.

First some back story. There's a restaurant here in the actual Twin Cities that has made a valiant attempt to become the next big thing in breakfast. I'm going to call it the Croquet Club, which is code, because Beau hasn't wanted to review it, because it's small and it's new, and we hated our food there. The thing about this Croquet Club is there is no evidence on their menu that they have a stove. Really. I kid you not. There is no stove top. Beau and Jimmy even poked their heads around the bar, looking for one. No stove. "How can they serve eggs?" you ask. Good question. Have you heard of baked eggs? "Well, but how can they serve perfectly browned potatoes?" you wonder. Well, they just don't. Yes. They have no potatoes today.

Anyway, Jimmy and I, noticing the lack of stove, ordered something we considered doable without such a tool. We got the smoked salmon and bagel with fresh field greens, tomato, and hard-boiled egg. (Someone must take the eggs home and bring them back boiled.) What arrived was a big salad, with pale tomatoes, a nicely boiled egg, and a Sarah-Lee-esqe bagel. The salad was covered in salmon shards that looked suspiciously like they came out of those new vacuum packs of salmon by Chicken of the Sea. In what alternative universe is non-smoky salmon shards what you expect when you order smoked salmon and a bagel?

And now the stage is set for my meal at the Blue Bird Bistro. I still had a craving for that perfect combination of smoked salmon and cream cheese. This place is so organic and earnest, they have a mission statement full of deeply-felt sentence fragments on the first page of their menu. They promised me sustainable, humanely caught smoked salmon, and I bit. It arrived on a too-large plate (to make up for the slightly too-small portion size), and matched my ideal for breakfast salmon. You don't want it to be too fishy. You don't want any slime. It should be firm, yet it should yield to the slightest pressure of your teeth. Most of all, it should not come from the tuna aisle. This salmon was perfect! Hooray for Kansas City. Three cheers for Kristen on her wedding day!

In fact, the earnestness and eagerness of the Blue Bird Bistro reminds me of that other place we didn't like so well in Minneapolis. Their execution, however, puts that stoveless wonder to shame.

P.S. I almost forgot to mention the deep red, seductively juicy tomato slices that came with my meal. Mmm...real tomatoes. You win, Blue Bird.

P.P.S. It turns out that stoveless wonder makes a fine panini. Who knew?

Not the End of the World

2006-08-26T08:10:00.000-05:00

Hot Plate
5204 Bloomington Avenue South
Minneapolis
612.824.4794

I've slain a lot of mice this week, against my will, I might add, but it seems to be some sort of calling - of course, maybe that was just Fern calling to let me know that there was a mouse in her apartment, but I'm taking it as a sign. Into every generation, a slayer is born, and so, this week's review is brought to you by ... Lexi the Vermin Slayer.

The Scooby gang gathered this week at Hot Plate. More accurately, we gathered outside of Hot Plate, waiting for it to open. Damn those posted business hours that keep us from enjoying our breakfast any old time we please. They finally invited us in at 8:00, but we chose to avoid the lure of the televisions inside and sit outside to enjoy the sunshine. Unfortunately "Enjoying the sunshine" looked a lot like "squinting into the blinding glare of daylight", especially as the sun reached perfect eye-blinding height. Judy suggested correcting the problem by standing as she ate, but laziness and comfort won out over pretecting her eyesight.

The food at Hot Plate is blindingly average. The potatoes are exactly the same ones served at Beau's regular breakfast joint in Nashville. They are called "roasted" on the menu (which Beau claims can be an indication of some big bad going on at a restaurant), but they showed up dyed orange with unknown "spices", and with a slight crust surrounding their freezer-burned insides. Beau and I ordered breakfast burritos, which didn't come with potatoes, but did come smothered in "spicy chipotle sauce" (which was about as spicy as your average main dish at a church potluck). The burrito was as big as your head, but not nearly so interesting.

Jimmy bravely ordered eggs benedict, and even seemed happy with his meal. Nobody got the Eric Estrada of the day, which is some sort of layerey-eggy thing with about a million things crammed inside. It's an age-old problem. If you add more ingedients, you're bound to come up with a sure-fire winner (for me, it's goat cheese), but you might also hit upon a deal-breaker (i.e. Candian bacon).

Rachael ordered the pancakes after determining their thickness from the server. Only thin pancakes will do for Rachael, perhaps because she doesn't really like pancakes and thick ones taste too pancakey. So, why, you ask, did she order pancakes in the first place? Well, she's the magic eight ball of breakfast ordering. From the outside, her logic looks a lot like a decahedron floating in mysterious inky fluid. Still, don't we all secretly think the magic eight ball's answers really come from a higher place? And didn't Rachael's pancakes arrive just to her liking and satisfy her? I'm just saying, this is more than I can say for my perfectly logical burrito.

Wasps joined us for the end of the meal, which added degrees of difficulty to clearing the table for our phobic waitress. I did not slay them, as I reserve my powers for the scurrying vermin of my closets. The crew gave the place higher grades than I expected. The average was a B-. Still, I believe there was some sort of grade inflation going on, and I wouldn't expect us to dine again at Hot Plate any more than I'd expect to see Jimmy filling a paper plate with jello salad at a church potluck.

Hair of the Dog

2006-08-16T20:43:00.000-05:00

Blarney Pub and Grill
412 14th Ave. SE
Minneapolis, MN 55414
612.331.1527

One look at the Blarney Pub and Grill's website would tell you that this place was not suited for the TCBC. They specialize in Irish Car Bombs and things like "Whiskey Dick Wednesdays" (which I find strangely intriguing), not crispy hash browns and skim milk lattes. This should give you an indication of the level of desperation that had befallen breakfast club on Saturday. We made the mistake of trying to decide on a place as we were driving around aimlessly. After an hour of driving and at least five failures, we were in Dinkytown, hungry, and more then a little cranky. We saw the Blarney Pub and Grill and it passed the two remaining hurdles we had, it was open and had immediate seating. While the eating experience was essentially wretched, I am giving the Blarney a passing grade. Under the right scenario, the Blarney Pub and Grill isn't too bad. Let me explain.

Do you remember college? Do you remember waking up on a Saturday or Sunday morning/afternoon after an especially raucous night? As soon as you open your eyes, you notice a number of things, 1) your mouth tastes like the inside of an empty beer can that also has been used as an ashtray, 2) the sun is especially bright, 3) there appears to be a noise rock band practicing inside you head. As you stagger out of bed, half awake and probably still half drunk, you know there is only one cure for your state and that is a large helping of grease in the form of eggs, hash browns, bacon, and toast. These are your only requirements. None of the food needs to be particularly good, in fact, it is better if the food isn't good because you won't appreciate it anyway. The food just needs to be greasy and quick. All that fat and grease somehow soak up all of the evil toxins that you ingested the previous night and make you feel halfway normal again. It's the ultimate hangover cure (sometime the strong-willed couple this breakfast with a stiff bloody mary, hangover be gone!).

Greasy and Quick. The Blarney Pub and Grill fits this description perfectly. If you expect anything more you will be disappointed. The options are limited, although they do have a bowl of lucky charms for those that are particularly queasy; the potatoes were especially freezer burny; and the best part of the meal was the toast. As a quality eating establishment, the Blarney Pub and Grill is a complete failure. As a hangover cure for a college student, the Blarney Pub and Grill is not too bad.

TCBC Grade=F
Drunken College Student Grade=B
Overall Grade=C-/D+

Mmmm...Open-Faced Club Sand Wedge

2006-08-16T20:26:00.001-05:00

Acadia Cafe
~~1931 Nicollet Ave. S.~~
329 Cedar Ave. S.
Minneapolis, MN 55403
612.874.8702

Sometimes, due to unforeseen circumstances, breakfast club is delayed and becomes lunch club. While this could never become the norm (when some members get up at 4:30 in the morning, waiting until NINE to eat is an eternity), it often allows the group to sample establishments that otherwise would be overlooked. Recently breakfast club was delayed due to the good doctor's call schedule and her addiction to gazing at her new grandson. It was a very hungry group of four (Rachael in Honduras, Alex in Canada, and Perley off doing Perley things) that walked into the Acadia Cafe at eleven in the morning. While the Acadia did list some breakfast options, it was clear that they specialized in the two meals not called breakfast. Rather then tempt fate, we all ordered from the lunch menu. This was a splendid development as it allowed me to consume the best club sandwich of my life, which is no small feat.

When I go out to lunch, there is a 75% chance that I will order a club sandwich. I've sampled club sandwiches across the nation, at large chain restaurants, at tiny diners, and all places in between. My history with this piece of Americana is extensive. It all goes back to when I was a surly teenager at a restaurant with my family. I looked at the menu and declared that the club sandwich looked good. One member of my family (who shall never be named) told me in no uncertain terms that I would NOT like the club sandwich because it had too much bread. As a surly teenager with two copies of the stubborn gene (thanks mom and dad), this information ensured that not only would I order the club sandwich, but I would also declare its magnificence to all the world regardless of my real onion. Luckily, I was not forced to lie to my own family, because that sandwich was terrific. From then on, the club sandwich has been my default order when given the option.

Given this long past, you may be surprised to know (or not) that I have very strict requirements regarding what makes a good club sandwich. A true and good club sandwich contains seven things, no more, no less.

Three slices of lightly toasted bread-Emphasis on the lightly toasted, often places go overboard and toast the hell out of the bread. By the time you are done with your last quarter, the roof of your mouth has been shredded by hard slivers of toast. Not good times. Bread type is negotiable, but given a choice, it's wheat every time.
Turkey-Preferably thinly sliced deli turkey and not that dry real turkey stuff that comes apart and crumbles everywhere, especially when you pick up one of your sandwich quarters, a properly made club sandwich does not require reassembly.
Bacon-Which must be crispy and more than two slices.
Lettuce-Iceberg to be exact, but romaine is also acceptable.
Tomato-As long as it is a good tomato, out-of-season mealy tomatoes should never go on a sandwich under any circumstances.
Mayo-And only mayo, I find that the addition of mustard changes the entire complexion of the sandwich and not for the better.
Cheese-Almost any cheese will do as long as it isn't too powerful.

Most places make one or two critical mistakes when making a club sandwich. Some places add ham to the equation. While I appreciate the addition of another pork product it IS a tad excessive. Other places try and spice up the club sandwich by adding nontraditional condiments, like honey mustard or specialty mayonnaise. Many places deem the third slice of bread to be superfluous and eliminate it. This is the most heinous act because it does not allow them to cut the sandwich into quarters and display those wonderful pieces of joy on the plate with the requisite mountain of chips or freedom fries. It's those neatly displayed sandwich quarters that really set the club sandwich apart from the other, more pedestrian sandwiches.

The Acadia Cafe does none of those things and just provides you with those seven essential ingredients, lovingly assembled into the perfect sandwich. They also have a healthy halo type multi-grain bread that is very pleasing. Everyone in the group loved their meals and praised the Acadia Cafe unreservedly. If their club sandwich is any indication of the quality of the rest of their food, multiple return trips will have to be scheduled.

Grade=A+++

Extra-Crispy Jane Austen

2006-07-20T20:21:00.000-05:00

New Uptowner Cafe
1100 Grand Avenue
St. Paul, MN 55105
651.290.2422

Our beloved breakfast club, discerning and sensible to a fault, must every now and again be forgiven for a propensity toward superlatives under stress of extraordinary hunger. Declarations of perfection are offered much more readily if the selections are viewed as remedies for suffering rather than mere bits of pork and eggs, a tendency more easily observed with each passing hour between need and cure. Indeed some remedies are better than others, however, and our faith in breakfast club may be restored upon the realization that its finer judgment will remain clear regardless of circumstance.

The party was delayed Saturday morning when Dr. N- discovered the loss of certain objects dear to her, and the ensuing search proved fruitless despite heroic efforts by Mr. C- to recover the missing items. Once the company was fully assembled, and the tender emotions of Dr. N- sympathetically addressed, they hastened away to The Uptowner, on the recommendation of Mr. Anders N-, a gentleman highly esteemed by all for his fine character. Despite the inconvenience such a large party presented to a small establishment, the server amiably made arrangements and the official meeting began.

The simple nature of the menu and the denial of Dr. N-'s first two beverage orders - both regrettably deemed impossible by the server - persuaded no one to depart from traditional breakfast offerings, except for Miss Sarah H-, who chose an item more generally preferred at lunch (a bacon cheeseburger), though the lateness of the hour prevented her choice from seeming peculiar. Most members of the party emphasized to the server their wish for "extra-crispy" potatoes, despite awareness that the potatoes had previously been untested and their usual crispiness as yet unknown, and one ought judge potatoes as they would come to the table normally, since efforts at remembering to specify crispiness will occasionally fail even the most ardent connoisseur.

The plan worked exceedingly well, however, and the potatoes arrived to exclamations of delight and satisfaction. How crisp! How perfectly browned! The potatoes had no equal in the recollections of any member present. Indeed all of the selections met with approval and happiness - Miss Rachael H- announced her particular admiration of the flawlessly executed omelet included in her order. Amidst this state of unprecedented appreciation, the only grievance uttered arose due to a somewhat inadequate preparation of bacon, which several members agreed would have benefited from a longer relationship with the skillet.

Is there any reason for us to mistrust the impressions of our club? We cannot but wonder at such proclamations of faultlessness, coming from a company of reviewers who are not shy of approaching complaint. Ah, but qualifications were there after all, if we choose to look more closely. Miss G- returned from the lounge decidedly vexed, deeming it "not fit for a lady". Mr. C- remarked on the physical harm he was receiving from the injurious chairs, a remark which provoked immediate agreement from the rest of the party. To be sure, all club members reverted to form as the alarm of hunger was removed. However, The Uptowner was ultimately still crowned a success, and appreciated in no small amount for uniting the breakfast club once again.

Good News/Bad News

2006-07-09T10:10:00.000-05:00

The Newsroom
900 Nicollet Mall
Minneapolis
612.343.0073

You don’t really forget that you’re in a bar when you eat breakfast at the Newsroom in downtown Minneapolis. It’s dim, in that way that’s comforting when you’ve had too much to drink or when you are in the process of drinking too much. Besides, you have to walk past a giant ship of booze in order to get to your table. Needless to say, the Newsroom sports a decidedly different atmosphere from most of our favorite breakfast joints.

Still, we got a seat right away, which always puts us in a good mood. We didn’t really notice all of the TV’s built into the wall until the wait staff turned them all on to show the World Cup action. Fitting for a bar, but not so fitting for a breakfast joint, but then again, Beau was into the game, and I am admittedly a TV snob.

The first piece of good news came with our coffee, which is thick and delicious. It’s the kind of coffee that makes me forget that for me it can only lead to a night of insomnia and nightmares. The really good news was that we each got our own little pitcher of half and half (and when I say “little” I really mean “adequate” which for this crowd means a lot). It turns out to be a relief not to have to share cream with Beau. It reduces the hoard mentality that usually surrounds our morning coffee. The coffee refill pace was also brisk, although Beau begged me not to drink my whole second cup, so I didn’t test it myself.

The next piece of good news arrived on Jimmy and Perley’s plates. It was a steak and egg breakfast which they described as “perfect”. It’s not like I got to taste any of it, because they ate every last bit, but I trust their opinion on steak and eggs. Beau and Sarah also enjoyed their traditional breakfasts.

The bad news came to those of us who strayed, even slightly, from the meat and eggs breakfast. Rachael and I ordered an asparagus omelet, which arrived with limp, grey asparagus stems and nary a tender tip to be seen and with overcooked and dry eggs. I’m not going to lie. This was the worst breakfast of my entire summer. Judy also expressed a distinct lack of enthusiasm for her waffle with fruit.

So, go to the Newsroom, by all means, especially if you want to watch TV while you eat at a dim and drapery-hung table, but if you go be careful what you order. Just pretend you’re a reporter who’s been up all night covering an important breaking story, remember all of your stereotypes you've ever had about reporters, and order coffee and a basic high-cholesterol meal. Reporters, apparently, don’t know what good asparagus looks like. They certainly have never seen it in the Newsroom.

PS None of us went to the bathroom while we were there, but it's famous, I guess.

The Power of Negative Thinking

2006-07-08T16:07:00.000-05:00

Soba's Cafe
2558 Lyndale Ave. S.
Minneapolis, MN 55405
612.871.6631

One of my coworkers shares a philosophy of life with me. We call it something different, but the theme is the same. I call it "the power of negative thinking", or "it's better to be pleasantly surprised, then disappointed." My coworker repeats a phrase that her mother said numerous times while growing up, "Expect nothing and you will never be disappointed." It is this mindset that may have resulted in the sparkling review you are about to read.

Rachael and I woke up this morning and called over to the big house to inquire about the club. It was reported that Judy was still at the hospital and everything was in a holding pattern until she was available (we've tried breakfast club without Judy and it lacks a particular joy, if you've ever met Judy, you would understand). Rachael and I twiddled our thumbs, drank a bunch of cups of coffee and waited. The phone finally rang and we were told to report to Soba's Cafe in 15 minutes. No questions asked, no vetoes, it was the most decisive start to breakfast club ever. As we walked over there, Rachael and I discussed our misgivings about Soba's we had both heard bad things about it, especially concerning the service. Service is rather important to the club because we are...how do you say...a needy bunch. I need my coffee refilled a bajillion times (with copious amounts of cream and sugar provided), Judy will make at least one substitution with her order or try to order something that isn't even on the menu, and Jimmy, Fern, Alex, or Rachael have been known to make special requests. It was with this knowledge that breakfast began. In a word, skeptical.

It is hard for me to conjure up a better breakfast club experience. We arrived at about 10 (very late in the world of twin cities weekend breakfast) and were seated immediately. The service was prompt and courteous. All of our special requests were accommodated willingly. They even forgot to put the hollandaise sauce on the side for Judy and when she complained (whined really) they whisked her plate away and it returned soon thereafter, properly assembled. One caveat is necessary though, since I already had my coffee at home, I ordered orange juice, so their coffee refill/half and half and sugar supply skills were not properly tested.

Get on with it, how was the food? Simply put, the food was tremendous. I had the best breakfast quesadilla in my life. The tortillas were deliciously crispy, the salsa, sour cream, and guacamole sides were the perfect quantity, and inside was the most delicious combination of eggs cheese and bacon imaginable. Usually when something contains bits of bacon, it feels like you are on a treasure hunt to find the bacon. This was not a problem here as there seemed to be an entire pig's worth of bacon stuffed inside the tortillas.

Everyone else thoroughly enjoyed their dishes. Judy got the vegetarian eggs benedict, with guacamole in lieu of ham (a nice touch). The hollandaise sauce was very good. Rachael got some sort of scramble (cheese on the side), it was hard to tell what it was because it was gone so quickly. Jimmy had the standard eggs benedict and left not a scrap behind. Alex and Fern both had omelets and had effusive praise for them. The potatoes were good, but not great. They were roasted potatoes, not hash browns and they varied in crispiness from plate to plate. The really crispy ones were very good.

Overall grade from the group was an A-. Everyone except Jimmy gave the experience an A. Jimmy would have given the place an A, but docked it an entire letter grade because of all the dust on the windows and on the plastic plants. If you have seen Jimmy's house you would know that this is kind of like Dick Cheney docking someone an entire letter grade for being an obnoxious prick.

All of this leads us to an important question. Is breakfast club losing its edge? We've given positive reviews to the last five places we've been to. We are turning into a Dara Moskowitz article. Is it because of reduced expectations? Are we making better choices? These are a philosophical questions best answered over a cup of coffee and a plate of eggs and (crispy) hash browns.

Note: Soba's Cafe is no more. Perhaps the health department shut them down for all of the dust. At any rate, a new restaurant has taken their place. We may have to try it out someday.

That's Amore!

2006-07-08T09:41:00.000-05:00

Crema Café
3403 Lyndale Ave S
Minneapolis, MN 55408-4152
(612) 824-3868

Remember that time when we were lost wandering in a warren of alleyways in Italy? Wasn’t it great? It was so beautiful, and every time we turned another corner life rewarded us in some new way. Was it the frothy cappuccino? The ice cream that melted like velvet? The flowers? Chocolates? The Breakfast?

No, it was that BLT made with Minnesota-grown heirloom tomatoes, farmhouse Wisconsin cheddar, and organic bacon that has haunted your memory ever since? Wait. Do you mean to tell me that wasn’t Siena? It was South Minneapolis- and we can go whenever Beau uses up his vetoes on Bakery on Grand and Birchwood?

The entrance to Crema Café is on the sunniest corner of Minneapolis. It always takes a minute or so for my eyes to adjust to the interior, which is just enough time for my overactive imagination to transport me straight to the Mediterranean. Clearly, folks have put some thought and work into this place – the tiles, ironwork, tables,…everything about the interior is beautiful and purposefully placed -including the fact that to order you will have to pass by the entire retinue of small-batch ice-creams and a case filled with all sorts of hand-made tarts, chocolates, and assorted treats.

The menu is small, and is made up of a combination of seasonal and locally produced organic foods prepared in a French-Mediterranean-Midwestern style. Nearly everything is good and nearly everything that comes out of the kitchen is done well. Whether you want a traditional breakfast, or a Croque Madame, there will be something on the menu that will sound lovely, particularly, since while at Crema, you are on vacation. The potatoes are tasty, but are not uniformly crispy. Your meal will probably contain fresh herbs. After consuming every morsel on your plate you will not be so full that you will skip lunch-not necessarily a bad thing. You may consider coming back to Crema for lunch. Your waiter will not bring something that you really, really wanted but were too shy to actually order- but I don’t think the staff can be faulted for not being able to accurately read minds.

Crema utilizes a semi-counter service format. You will bring your own water, coffee, and a limited number of accoutrements to the table. I have never figured out exactly what I need to do for myself, because I’m relaxed and easy going while I’m on vacation and that end of the counter is crowded. Specialty coffees, your meal, and anything out of the ordinary (for Crema), will be brought to your table later by your server. This works because it gives you a chance to re-arrange the plaza chairs so that half of your party can sit in sun and the other half in shade with one person in half-sun half-shade, for example. This doesn’t work, because you must request ketchup specially, and it comes in a 1.5 tablespoon serving (one Roman tablespoon = 1.5 American standard tablespoons).

Just like your last vacation when you were bored waiting for your return flight and you started mentally converting euros back to dollars and had to have one last grappa to stave off the panic attack, Crema is not all dreamy perfection. After the last TCBC meeting, several members pointed out that as long as the treasurer was paying, we loved Crema, but if the bill was coming out of our own pockets, we might not be head-over-heels. Crema’s atmosphere has no equal among breakfast joints, but good food and organic local ingredients can be found elsewhere for less money (although not necessarily on the same plate). Definitely cheaper than a vacation on the Italian Riviera, Crema is perfect for times when you need a meal length vacation, and don’t mind paying the equivalent of euros for dollars.

Overall Grade: A- among the adventurous, B-/C+ from the traditional breakfast lover.

Where's Rachael?

2006-07-04T12:52:00.000-05:00

I'd like to tell you about the breakfast I had this morning at the Bryant Lake Bowl. I'd tell you about what looked like mostly crispy potatoes on Beau's plate, and how the Huevos Rancheros fit my plate and my appetite well, but not quite perfectly, because I don't think dirty rice belongs in Huevos Rancheros (and I hadn't read the menu well enough to realize that there would be some in my meal). I'd mention that the BLB does the little things well, like including sea salt in the shakers on the table. I'd say that we used up all of our cream and never got more, which must have driven Beau crazy. I'd finish up with a gripe about the breakfast sausage that tastes like a good hot dog. Hot dogs for breakfast?

I'd like to make my report because this is a breakfast review site, and we did go out for breakfast after all. I can't, however, because a certain member of our club owes us some words about Crema Cafe, and if I talked about the BLB it'd be out of order.

If I menioned that the BLB got a C today, it would surely throw everyone off, because they all want to know answers to more pressing questions, like where can you go for breakfast if you want to pretend like you're eating in an Italian piazo? Or how can you reconcile counter service with a $9 basic breakfast?

Merci Buckets

2006-06-11T13:32:00.000-05:00

Barbette
1600 W. Lake Street
Minneapolis, MN

Chaise longue. Most people know the meaning of this phrase, but not the proper spelling or pronunciation. Look at the second word closely; it's not "lounge", it's "longue", and sounds like the word "long". Some dictionaries now include an entry for "chaise lounge", since we in America often twist things around a little bit and eventually the dictionary people give up and let us have it our way. But I'm sure the French would scoff at us for what we have done to their words.

What would they have to say about Barbette, I wonder. Other reviewers have made the assertion that walking into Barbette is just like walking into a cafe in Paris, but my sources (Jimmy and Judy), tell me it's really nothing like that at all. I don't know if Barbette's intention is pure authenticity or not, but I don't think it matters all that much because what they've got is really damn good in its own right.

The breakfast menu includes a selection of omelettes, quiche, waffles, crepes, and such, as well as a few versions of Eggs Benedict and things like granola, yogurt, or croissants. One distinction we noticed right away - they only offer one kind of potato (pommes frites, or french fries), and you must order it separately if you want it. We got a half-order and shared it as an appetizer, and that was plenty for the five of us who were sampling it. A whole order is huge (super-size, we might say), so be warned that you should only order the pommes frites if you plan on sharing with a friend or two. The standard accompaniment to eggs in place of potatoes is a salad of lightly-dressed field greens, which makes the meal quite a bit lighter and an option we wish more restaurants would offer.

Rachael, Jimmy, and I all got the traditional Eggs Benedict and we all liked it. The hollandaise sauce is quite good and they know how much is enough. Judy got the daily quiche which included red peppers, leeks, and asiago, and said it was "the best quiche she had ever had", though we all knew she was hyperbolizing, and she knew we knew. Alex got an omelette with brie and fines herbes, which she liked although couldn't finish. And finally, Beau got the french toast, and emphatically told us to never allow him to get french toast anywhere else because this was the best - eggy, delicious, and served with plenty of real maple syrup. The only loss of points came as the result of an unfortunate coffee-free period near the beginning of the meal, but that was only a minor complaint.

So, incroyable!, the breakfast club was happy for the third week in a row. Barbette, our French (or French-inspired) cafe spoke to us in language we all understood... quality breakfast food.

See also Barbette Revisited.

Reflections on the Corner Table

2006-06-04T11:03:00.000-05:00

Corner Table
4257 Nicollet Ave
Minneapolis, MN 55409
612.823.0011

I hate getting my hair cut. Part of it is allowing a stranger to touch my head while trying to think of things to say other than, "Hey, get your hands off me." Once, when I was thirteen, and awkward, a hair stylist told me that my face was too plain for the haircut I had, and then he proceeded to give me a stiff helmet of hair that would have better suited a grandmother. A big part of why I hate getting my hair cut is that I have to sit facing a mirror for an hour, watching the uncomfortable look on my face as I try not to think of myself as "too plain" and tolerate someone else's hands on my head. Given all of that, I was not happy to find my seat at the Corner Table facing a wall-sized mirror. Was I going to have to watch myself eat? Ick. I sized up the people on the other side of the table, decided Judy was my best bet, and begged her to trade seats with me. From the far more pleasant back-to-the-mirror seat, the restaurant atmosphere was gentle, soft green walls with minimalist maroon colored paitings, nice wooden tables and a stone floor.

No one else was in the restaurant when we got there. In fact, we had to send Rachael to look at the sign, because we were afraid they weren't open. After we had perused the menus, a family sat down outside (nice outdoor seating, if Jimmy would ever allow us to sit outside), and later still a couple of women took another indoor table. Still, it was an ominous sign. Was the food that bad? Fortunately, no.

Items on the menu were about $9, with an assortment of high-end breakfast options as well as an al a carte menu from which you could create a traditional breakfast. Jimmy had the Juevos Rancheros, which he said were "good". Sarah ate the Farmer's Breakfast including thick slices of local ham, which we all sampled and liked. Rachael and I had the vegetarian hash, which was too small and which Rachael regretted ordering as soon as the words left her mouth because she realized too late that she wanted meat. Judy had a daily scramble special with spinach, tomatoes and parmesan. Beau got French Toast because he was tempted by the bottles of real maple syrup on the table when we got there. He described it as too dry and "too sweet" - two words Rachael had never before heard him say. He did, however, like the homemade sausage patties. Nearly every plate left the table empty. Jimmy and I both agreed that, even though it was a late breakfast, we'd still have room for lunch, because the portions were small.

Our overall grade was a B. Sarah, happy with her ham, gave it more, and Beau, still bitter about the too-sweet French toast, gave it less. Judy's grade reflected the seat I made her use, because, really, nobody needs to watch themselves eat breakfast, but she did like the food. We were a satisfied breakfast club for the second week in a row. Unprecedented.

Welcome Back Old Friend

2006-05-28T20:56:00.000-05:00

Day By Day Cafe
477 W. 7th St.
St. Paul, MN 55102
612.227.0654

Back in 1998, Breakfast Club consisted of Jimmy, Judy, Alex, and Fern. I was in college in New York, and after that in Nashville in grad school (or as I call it, hell on earth) for three years. Those were dark, dark times, and breakfast club happenings from then are rarely discussed now. Back then the Day By Day was an old standard. It might be the charter member of the "Official Breakfast Club Old Standards". It fell out of favor though, due to a variety of reasons, it's a long drive to St. Paul, there is often a long wait for a table, there were a couple of bad eating experiences, etc. By the time I returned to the Twin Cities and became an active member of breakfast club, the Day By Day had fallen off the map. Until yesterday.

As per usual, we were sitting around Jimmy and Judy's kitchen table playing our favorite pre-Breakfast Club game, "Round Robin Veto". Here's how the game works, one person makes a suggestion to the group and provides evidence as to why we should go there ("Let's go to Bryant Lake Bowl, we haven't gone there in a while and they are going to close soon"). There is a three second pause, and someone else vetoes the suggestion and then states why it is a sucky idea ("Bryant Lake Bowl is too greasy, the tables are too small, and they don't have bottomless cups of coffee"). The vetoing person must then provide an alternative to be shot down by the rest of the group. We usually do one complete round before a decision is made. This used to happen in the car, on the way to the place, but now that we take two cars we have to decide before leaving the house. We had already vetoed seven places when someone suggested the Day By Day. There was a three second pause...and no veto. Not only was there no veto, there was genuine excitement for the idea. It had been a long time since we'd gone there and some people had never been there and it is always nice to have veterans and newbies to critique a place. Before long there were two cars speeding east on 94 towards St. Paul.

Walking into the crowded restaurant, I my hopes faded that we would be able to eat soon. We had seven people (a nice guest appearance by cousin Perley) and seven is pushing the boundaries of an acceptable number of people for a breakfast joint. Not only were we seated almost immediately, we got a huge table in a relatively empty part of the restaurant. It was a very promising start.

When we sat down, I actually exclaimed with joy. There were two bowls of cream. I'm not talking two pudding-dish sized bowls that hold three containers of half and half and force some members of the group (myself included) to horde cream for the entire meal, I'm talking two BOWLS of cream, each with a giant pile of half and half. Why had it taken us so long to come back?

The meal itself was delightful. Everyone enjoyed their food tremendously. It was very traditional breakfast fare, which was good news for me. Jimmy and Perley both got something called the "heart stopper", which made me decide that all breakfast places should have a dish called the heart stopper. It only seems appropriate. Alex and I each had the breakfast burrito and enjoyed it thoroughly. The fresh avocado was a great addition. Judy got the special pancake and liked it, but complained that it was a little dry. She then confessed that she did not put any syrup on it, which would explain the dryness. Rachael and Fern both got a tradition type breakfast and gave it positive marks.

The only bone of contention in the group was the potatoes. Most members of the group gave them poor marks because of their lack of crispiness. Other members gave the potatoes high marks because they were fresh and definitely never frozen. The search for perfect potatoes continues. A legitimate case for them being perfect could have been made if the cooks would have left them on the stove for five more minutes. They also get bonus points for giving you the option of American (Freedom?) fries or hash browns.

The Day By Day Cafe received a overall grade of B+/A- from the group. It might just have inserted itself back among the old standards. Welcome back old friend.

Newsflash

2006-05-22T20:40:00.000-05:00

Dara Moscowitz - who went to Carleton - has just informed me (through our usual means of communication: her City Pages column) that the meat and eggs at the Bryant Lake Bowl are locally produced, organic, and sustainable. I, therefore, move that we hold some not-too-distant future meeting of our club at the BLB. Can I get a second?

Oh, and thank you Hennepin County for the smoking ban, or I would have never made this suggestion.

OK, carry on.

The Importance of Being Earnest About Your Maple Syrup

2006-05-20T11:13:00.000-05:00

Wilde Roast Cafe
518 Hennepin Ave. E.
Minneapolis, MN 55414
612.331.4544

Sometimes I feel bad about giving places bad reviews. Sometimes I feel like the Club is way too critical and no place will ever live up to our absurdly high standards. I worry that people will not (not that anyone outside of our family does right now) want to read our blog because we continually bash every place we go to. There are times when we may be overly critical (even with places that we frequent), but sometimes a place deserves every single piece of criticism. The Wilde Roast Cafe is one of those places.

We were so hopeful. My first thought upon walking in was, "Wow, this is classy, I feel underdressed." The place seemed more coffee shop then cafe, with plush leather chairs and sofas, nice art on the walls, counter service, etc. Anything this fancy looking surely must put a lot of time and effort into their food. The menu was ambitious, no standard breakfast to be had, but all of the offerings sounded very good on paper with many fancy names (frittata, strata) and delicious sounding ingredients (créme brûlée french toast, artichoke and roasted red pepper). Unfortunately the highest grade among the group was a C+, and the overall experience could best be described as a train wreck.

My first thought about the place, "classy", was soon refined to "pretentious". There is a fine line between classy and pretentious (I should know, I crossed that line a long time ago), the Wilde Roast Cafe crossed that line, turned around and erased it to make sure it never came back. Classy is having high quality tea for your patrons. Pretentious is responding to an order of earl grey tea with, "Sorry we don't have earl grey tea, we only have WINTER WHITE earl grey tea." Classy is having special homemade strawberry butter for your waffle. Pretentious is having special homemade strawberry butter for your waffle, then providing fake maple syrup to go with it. Classy is offering a fresh field green salad as part of breakfast (thank you Cafe Barbette). Pretentious is offering a fresh field green salad as a part of breakfast and then topping it with dressing that tastes like stale beer.

I would go on, but I already feel bad for what I've said. This was a breakfast club experience that is best forgotten. The Wilde Roast Cafe received an average grade of a "D". We will not return.

More Places We Haven't Been

2006-05-14T09:56:00.000-05:00

I just talked to my dad, who has a breakfast club of his own. They are not fancy breakfast food people over in that club. Places they like are:

Elsie's
729 Marshall St NE
Minneapolis
Square Peg
2021 East Hennepin
Minneapolis
Wild Onion
788 Grand Ave
St. Paul
Wilde Roast Cafe
518 Hennepin Ave E
Minneapolis
Legends Bar and Grill
825 East Hennepin
Minneapolis

A Date with Jay

2006-05-13T14:04:00.000-05:00

Jay's Cafe
791 Raymond Ave.
St. Paul, MN
651.641.1446

I was prepared to fall in love the minute we walked into Jay's. The place is homey. The walls are a soft green with beadboard wainscoting. The waitress was friendly and greated us with a warm, "Sit where you like." Even the customers were accomodating - two of them moved so that we could push two tables together and create a table for six.

There is a maximum capacity of 45 at Jay's, so it's a hole-in-the wall type of place, with small tables (but not too small) and fair-trade coffee. There's a magazine rack with the day's newspaper next to one of the tables. It can get loud, because it's a small room, or it can get unnervingly quiet, when the rest of the diners all decide to stop talking at the same time, and the only voice in the room is your own.

The menu had so many good-sounding options, that we had a hard time making our selections. Before our food came, there was a pervading feeling of optimism among the club members. Could this be The One?

Beau and Jimmy ordered the "Cowboy" breakfast, with steak, bacon, eggs piled on top of their potatoes. Judy succumbed to the temptation of the daily waffle (orange and almond) with her real maple syrup and whipped cream on the side. Rachael and I had the thing that was most like Eggs Benedict. Sarah, true to form, got the burrito.

My food was first to arrive. Fingers swooped in from all over the table to sample my potatoes. It's been a long time since we've been to a new restaurant, so we all wanted to see how the potatoes stacked up. They didn't. They were at once soggy and dry. The spice blend was OK, but it just didn't make up for the texture. The potato problem was like being on a blind date and finding out the dude was a Republican. Could you see beyond it if he had lots of other really good qualities? Judy shook her head, wrinkled her nose, and gave a definite thumbs down.

Oh, we wanted to love this Jay, because he was so good looking, but he kept giving us reason to doubt. Beau and Jimmy plowed through their meal, Beau polishing off his plate and Jimmy leaving the rejected potatoes behind. They later admitted that the steak was also a disappointment. Rachael, on the other hand, liked her meal and she and Beau were the only Clean Plate Club members. I had the same thing, but I got tired of the pile of cooked spinach under my eggs, the hollandaise version didn't thrill me, and I kept coming back to those potatoes - those limp on the outside, dry on the inside potatoes. After a while I didn't even like the spices anymore. Sarah ate half of her burrito. I couldn't tell whether that was a bad sign, though, because the thing was enormous, and sometimes she knows her limits. Judy seemed happy with her waffle, but Jimmy was not impressed when he finished it off for her.

At the end of the meal, a very divided breakfast club left the table. The Cowboys gave the place a D, probably because their meal depended so heavily on the potatoes and the steak. Judy was more in the B range. I said C+, because the ambience was exactly what I want in a breakfast joint. I think the conclusion was that we could come back, but only if we altered our ordering habits and substituted fresh fruit for potatoes. That way, we could enjoy Jay's good looks and charming personality without running into his unfortunate potato problem.

Breakfast Club Takes Off Its Pajamas

2006-05-07T09:36:00.000-05:00

As I mentioned yesterday, Jimmy and Judy are on vacation until May 7th, so there has been no Breakfast Club. In addition to performing all off the duties and responsibilities that go with the title of "Official Breakfast Club Treasurers", Jimmy and Judy live with and take care of three octogenarians, with varying levels of relatedness. One grandmother (Dorothy), one mother of a former fiancé (Nicky), and one family friend (Ann). This is a complicated story that may be elaborated upon in the future. Anyway, when Jimmy and Judy are on vacation, the children are charged with checking up on "The Queens of the Universe" to make sure they have enough food, have all the library books they need, and frankly that they are still alive. This particular vacation by Jimmy and Judy occurred during Dorothy's birthday (her 87th!), so the children decided to take her out to dinner. It may not be breakfast and it may not be breakfast club, but it is a restaurant review.

We went to Duplex in Minneapolis (2516 Hennepin Ave. S., 612.381.0700) on Wednesday night. The people in attendance were Beau, Alex, Rachael, Cousin Perley (an occasional TCBC member), Ann, and Dorothy. Nicky is in the poorest health, so she stays with her family when Jimmy and Judy are away. Overall, Duplex receives a C, the food was good, but a number of non-food issues drastically lowers the grade.

Food-Everyone except Rachael and I were very pleased with the food. Rachael and I both ordered the pasta of the day. The special pasta was penne with morel mushrooms and fiddleheads in a very pedestrian cream sauce. I was able to try almost everyone else's (Perley was not a good sharer) dish and the special pasta was a poor choice. The salads were very good, especially the Caeser. Ann had the chicken fettuccini, which was buttery and delicious. Dorothy had a melt in your mouth roasted duck breast with baby carrots. Alex had the bison with fois gras, and anything with fois gras is fantastic. Perely did not leave a scrap of his risotto behind, so it must have been pretty good. If you avoid the daily special, you will be quite happy with the food.

Service-The service was...how you say...disconcerting. I think that the owners of Duplex invested in a Waitresstron 9000 and to save time set it on "5' 2", 100 pounds, short black hair, tight black pants, tight black shirt", and then just ran off 15 of them. I couldn't figure out which one was assigned to our table, and for all I know we were served by eight different women.

Atmosphere-This is really where Duplex loses points. As the name would suggest, Duplex is located in a renovated duplex. Anyone who has spent time in an old duplex is familiar with the distinct "cat pee/bong water duplex smell". Unfortunately the renovation process did nothing to reduce this smell. In the favorable reviews in the Star Tribune and the City Pages, Duplex is billed as a great date locale, quiet, intimate, nice. We found this not to be true, probably due to those favorable reviews. The restaurant was packed and the tables were crammed together, packing us into small rooms like sardines. The acoustics made things even worse. Thumping music and loud voices bouncing off of hardwood floors and walls made conversation difficult at best, especially when two of the six party members are hard of hearing. Walking out of the restaurant, my voice felt hoarse from shouting and my ears felt numb. Not exactly a calming experience.

For the food alone, Duplex warrants a return trip, but not until after the initial buzz dies down. It would be nice to be able to actually engage in conversation while eating our food.

Places We Haven't Been

2006-05-06T20:57:00.000-05:00

So I was looking for some new spots to eat breakfast in the Twin Cities, and I thought I'd start a list so we don't forget to try them. Feel free to add a comment if you find one I should add.

Jay's Cafe
791 Raymond Ave.
St. Paul
Sounds a bit more gourmet than eggs and sausage, but it also has hash for the hash lovers in our crowd.

Ideal Diner
1314 Central Ave NE
Minneapolis
Looks small, but very authentic

Colossal Cafe
1839 E. 42nd St.
Minneapolis
Very small, so it might be the place to go on days when we get an early start. It's in my neighborhood, and it looks busy. Plus there is outdoor seating to make it seem bigger.

My-T-Fine Bakery/Cafe
4300 Bryant Ave S
Minneapolis
If it's so close, and gets good reviews, why don't we ever eat there?

Breakfast Club for the Gentry of Lake Street

2006-05-06T20:35:00.000-05:00

Town Talk Diner
2701 1/2 E. Lake Street
Minneapolis, MN 55406
612.722.1312

The first thing you notice when you eat at the Town Talk Diner is the décor. There’s the name in lights outside, of course (although the bulbs are already about half burnt out), which makes the place seem so urban. Then there’s the narrow counter you’d expect from the outside, which looks authentic and diner-y (not the best seating for six, however). If you keep going around the corner, the larger dining room has multi-colored flooring and nicely-sized, brushed metal tables. It’s a shiny place. There are photographs of shiny kitchen things, and mirrors along one wall. There’s just a lot of metal, and, yes, it does reflect the sound and make the place a bit too loud, particularly if the music is going (but they do seem to be smart enough to turn it down when the dining area gets crowded for breakfast)

The next thing you notice is the napkin ring. “Cool,” you’ll think, removing it from your napkin. “It’s one of those thingies”. Before you can remember the name of the thingy if you ever knew it, it will be whisked away by one of the many waitstaff at the diner. The waiters and waitresses wear ill-fitting black jackets, and they are all good-looking hip twentysomethings who will ask you many times, a bit too eagerly, if you liked the food. I get the feeling that tables are not strictly assigned, because I have always been assisted by multiple waitstaff, along with the one main one. They do sort of interrupt your conversation, but you can’t argue with their earnest desire for you to like the Town Talk Diner, and they always make sure you have enough cream, coffee and water, which is good. They even refill tea, which is going above and beyond, in my experience.

The food is good. It’s not going to change your life, or become your new favorite restaurant of all time, but it is reasonably priced, and it tastes good. They serve their two plate-sized pancakes with real maple syrup, which you don’t even have to special order, which means someone in the kitchen knows that “pancake syrup” is crap – a very good sign. The pancakes themselves are actually cooked all the way through, which is such a difficult thing in restaurants. If you don’t feel like sweet food in the morning, the goat cheese, spinach, and mushroom omelet will fill you up past lunch time, and it has goat cheese in it. Mmm…goat cheese.

In all, I’m glad the Town Talk Diner finally opened its doors. It’s an eager new player in the rapidly growing East Lake Street – oh, sorry, “Midtown” – restaurant scene. It gets a nice solid C+ from me, but the entire club has not eaten there often enough for it to receive the Official Breakfast Club Seal of Approval.

PS Please note, this grade has been up-graded.

Hippie food for breakfast?

2006-05-05T19:42:00.000-05:00

Trotter's Cafe and Bakery
232 N. Cleveland Avenue
St. Paul, MN 55104
651.645.8950
http://www.trotters-stpaul.com/

Breakfast Club has been on a two week hiatus because the official treasurers (Jimmy and Judy) are on vacation in New York until May 7th. Hopefully Breakfast Club will make its triumphant return on Saturday May 13th...

Until we have new restaurants to review there are always the "old standards" that need to be discussed. The next "old standard" on my list is Trotter's Cafe and Bakery in St. Paul. Rachael discovered Trotter's when she lived in St. Paul. When Rachael was first brought into the Breakfast Club fold, Trotter's was her first suggestion to the group. After watching Breakfast Club tear apart restaurant after restaurant, she was extremely frightened that Trotter's would meet the same fate. Not only did Trotter's survive the initial visit, it made it into the pantheon of old standards.

Trotter's is a "granola-y" old hippie hangout. They serve local organic eggs and meat and bake their own bread onsite. Don't even bother asking for white toast with your meal. They will politely nod their heads and then serve you wheat toast. They serve all the breakfast standards, but in smaller quantities and made with about 1/10th the grease as most places. It's perfect if you would like to have two egg, bacon, potatoes, and toast, but don't want to physically feel your arteries closing as you eat your breakfast. Below are some of the menu highlights (and lowlights).

Trotter's Three-The standard two eggs, bacon or sausage, potatoes and toast. The potatoes are not the best. Breakfast club is partial to hash browns and these are fried potatoes. Because they use much less grease, they are unable to crisp the potatoes to a sufficient degree. They make up for it though, by adding a nice spice to them. The bacon is spiced with apple and cinnamon, which has polarized the group. Luckily those that don't like the apple cinnamon spice can get the sausage, which is very good, even if it is in link form.

Tortilla Lucia-This is Trotter's version of Huevos. Sarah gets it almost every time we go, and gives it high marks all around.

Potato Mountain-This is a great dish if you are marathon training and are carbo loading in preparation for a long run or eating to recover from one. It consists of a giant pile of potatoes, fried up with green peppers, onions, tomatoes, and cheese, then topped with eggs cooked the way you want. If you are like me and like to have egg yolks co-mingle with ketchup and the potatoes, do not order the eggs over easy, as they will come over hard and you will get no yolk and be sad. If you want yolk, order your eggs sunny side up.

Today's Scramble-This is a combination of eggs, two or three vegetables, and some type of cheese scrambled together. Rachael is enticed by this every time we go and sometimes she succumbs. She usually is happy with it, but wishes it came with meat.

Pancakes-Restaurant pancakes are hard. Pancakes are especially hard if you are an earthy, granola type restaurant. Trotter's doesn't make light and airy pancakes that serve as perfect vectors for butter and syrup. They make dense and hearty pancakes and add things like corn meal, oatmeal, bark, twigs, and other such things. If you get it, only order one, I have never seen anyone eat an entire double stack of pancakes. Even the people that eat one pancake (it takes up the entire plate) refuse to even look at food for the next eight hours.

Other important notes. Trotter's is semi-self serve. When you enter, you go to the counter and order your food. They give you a sign and you find a table for yourself. They bring the food out to you when it is ready. Everything else is up to you. You have to get your own silverware, napkins, ketchup, water, and coffee refills. When you are finished, you have to bus your own table. This is the reason Alex does not like Trotter's. Alex likes to be served 100% when she eats breakfast on the weekend. I actually really enjoy this feature, because it allows me to drink about 35 cups of coffee and completely abuse the half and half and sugar dispensers. I like not being beholden to the waitress for my next cup of joe and am somewhat embarrassed about having to request more half and half.

Breakfast Club highly reccomends Trotter's Cafe and Bakery. You may be disaapointed though if you like your eggs to be served swimming in a little pool of grease. Hopefully we will be back next week with a new review...

The first "old standard"

2006-04-24T21:21:00.000-05:00

The Modern Cafe
337 13 Avenue NE
Minneapolis, MN 55413
612.378.9882

Given that this is a restaurant review blog, there probably should be some reviews posted. Here is the first review. The Modern Cafe is one of the "old standards". When the picky group of six cannot agree on a location The Modern is often one of the default selections. You would think that as one of the old standards it would receive a stunning review. You would be wrong. The Modern is an old standard for one reason, the special big table in the back of the restaurant. This table is reserved for parties of five or more and is usually open. Finding seating for six very hungry people can be a harrowing experience at 9:30 on a Saturday morning in the Twin Cities. We've been known to walk into a restaurant glance around for two seconds and immediately veto it due to the wait. Even if it means we have to spend more time driving around the city finding a different place to eat, that is better than standing in no man's land at the door, watching steaming plates of food go by. Immediate seating means A LOT.

The food unfortunately, can be hit and miss. Every time we go, at least one member of the party gets the famous Modern hash. Half of the time, that person spends the entire breakfast raving about how good the hash is while the rest of the table quietly seethes because they weren't bold enough to order it. The other half of the time the hash orderer complains that the hash is a disappointment because it was not made with enough beer (beery hash is gooooooood) while the rest of the table smugly thinks to themselves, "I knew the hash wasn't going to be good today."

The hash browns are also hit and miss. I have had some one THE best hash browns ever there, and I have also had some of the mushiest, soggiest hash browns ever. It is like Russian roulette, but with hash browns.

One guaranteed winner is the pampered eggs. A very nice combination of scrambled eggs, bacon, scallions, and cream cheese.

The group also has one major issue with the Modern, cream dispensation. Our group likes their cream. The coffee drinkers and the tea drinkers both use copious amounts of cream. Even if there are three coffee orders and two tea orders at the table, the Modern servers provide the table with a pitcher of cream approximately the size of a thimble. When more cream is requested, another thimble of cream is provided. This is repeated three or four times, until the table is cluttered with multiple empty thimbles of cream. This results in some members of the group hording thimbles of cream by their plate of food in anticipation of their next cup of coffee.

The Modern is a solid "B". There are times when it receives an A+ (beery hash and crispy potatoes) and other times when it is lucky to receive a C. You may ultimately be disappointed with the food, but at least you didn't have to wait for a table...

Where are We Going to Eat?

2006-04-24T20:31:00.000-05:00

Breakfast club actually begins about 2 hours before we arrive at the restaurant. Being a slave to the schedule of a teacher, I get up early. Judy, being insane, is up long before I open my eyes, and Jimmy, who has to sleep next to her, is usually up, too, because Judy is a lot of things, but she is not quiet in the morning. So, around 7:30, after sitting around my apartment getting hungry, I make the call.

On those Saturdays when Judy doesn't have to do rounds at the hospital before breakfast club, Jimmy tells me to get in my car and come on over. This means, roughly translated, "Judy and I have not yet taken our shower, read the paper, or had a cup of coffee, but when we do, we'll be ready to go." Before he hangs up the phone, he asks the inevitable question: "Where are we going to eat?" We will hear this question many more times before we arrive at the restaurant.

I holler upstairs for Sarah who lives in the upstairs of our duplex, but she doesn't like to carpool, so sometimes we drive separately over to Jimmy and Judy's. On a good day, we see one of Beau or Rachael's cars parked out front when we arrive. Most days, however, the first stage of breakfast club involves waiting and thinking about that question.

Back in the day, we'd all cram into Jimmy's station wagon, with Judy volunteering to squeeze in the back end. She would tell us that she was quite comfortable, and she liked it back there. However, this tradition has recently ended (possibly because the back of a station wagon is not really that comfortable...), and we now take two cars. Before we leave the comforts of Jimmy's kitchen for our cars, we ask the question again: "Where are we going to eat?" With the new two-car arrangement we have to answer this question before we leave the house.

It's a difficult question. We have six people. Six very picky people. We can't just eat anywhere. Some of us like a lighter breakfast. Some like the traditional twoeggsovereasyhashbrownsandwholewheattoast. We don't like small tables. We hate to wait for a table.

We do have some old standbys (which I hope will be reviewed in more depth later in these pages).

There's the Modern, with its booth reserved for parties of 5 or more. We like that booth, but you can't count on the Modern's potatoes.
We had a brief love-afair with the Bandbox, but it's so small with so few tables, and it can be overwhelmingly greasy.
The food at the Bryant-Lake Bowl is good, but who designed those itty-bitty tables, anyway?
Everybody else in the party likes Trotters, but I don't like their counter service, and, besides, there is too little grease at Trotters. It's a bit too granola for breakfast.
We've just started going to Barbette, but I'm afraid the food might be a bit too fru-fru for Beau.
Judy liked Bakery on Grand. Thank goodness it closed down indefinitely for remodeling, because Beau was running out of vetoes.
Sometimes we book it over to St. Paul for that one place with all the photos of the Eiffel tower, but it never seems worth the drive.

So "Where are we going to eat?" question is the first order of business of every meeting. Once it's decided, we can begin the real business of critiquing of the potatoes...

Cast of Characters

2006-04-23T21:33:00.002-05:00

Jimmy and Judy
The parents. They are the official "Breakfast Club" treasurers. Jimmy likes his eggs over easy, his toast whole wheat, and his sausage in link form. Judy is the hash brown queen. According to her, they must be extremely crispy and never frozen.

Alex
The daughter. She's a math teacher and a runner. Alex is banned from drinking coffee, so she has tea with an obscene amount of cream and sugar.

Beau
The son. He works in the food industry, abhors any breakfast that doesn't include eggs, meat, toast, and potatoes, and drinks too many cups of coffee during the meal.

Sarah
Alex's best friend and charter member of Breakfast Club. Sarah enjoys a nontraditional breakfast (BLT anyone?) and strong earl grey tea.

Rachael
Beau's fiancé. Rachael is a completely unpredictable orderer, and consequently is often disappointed with her meal.

A Brief History

2006-04-23T21:03:00.001-05:00

Circa 1998. Two parents decide to take their 20 something children out to breakfast on Saturdays on a semi-regular basis. This allowed an already close family to reconnect and discuss any developments in their lives on a regular basis. Important decisions and revelations were made over a plate of bacon, eggs, and hash browns. The cast of characters expanded and contracted depending on the living/relationship situations of the children. The group has been to almost every breakfast restaurant in the Minneapolis/St. Paul metro area, searching for the perfect place. The search continues to this day...

Contact Us

2006-03-31T14:24:00.000-06:00