From my Tumblr blog - I Love Eggs Benedict -
I put on my shoes. Theyre an ugly pair of enclosed sports sandals that are all torn up because I walked about 750 km from Pamplona to Santiago de Compostela in them. Theyre war-torn, but still functional. Those went over striped multi-colored socks. The rest was black - the dress shirt, the slacks, the black zip-up jacket from SixPack with the Lucifer logo from Kenneth Angers film Scorpio Rising on the back. On my head I was sporting a sharp two-tone fedora.
Open went the umbrella and on went the earphones playing the audio book of Mad, Bad and Dangerous to Know - I couldnt help but compare my minor discomfort from the rain with Ranulph Fiennes epic Arctic struggle.
I sat down in Arts Cafe. Soon to be joined by four friends, equally weary from the night before - a veritable gin-joint dance up - an underground bunker blitzed with dub step, falling beer bottles, skin painting, homemade shooters, tequila explosions, girlish indiscretions, body shots from back dimples, hazy narcotic smoke and the like.It was like a modern day poem by Joseph Moncure March.
I perused the menu and ordered. A variation on a classic eggs benedict - with ham, emmenthal cheese and a bechamel sauce.
The concept was promising, but the eggs were slightly overcooked- I would have preferred the yolks to be a bit runnier. The bechamel was a rather lifeless affair, visually unappetizing, though it did combine nicely with the emmenthal. However the benedict deal-breaker was due to one simple problem - the pepper. The eggs themselves had been liberally dusted, which might be acceptable, but upon taking my first bite, and on subsequent bites, my taste buds were veritably carpet bombed with pepper.
Disappointed, but nonplussed I took a quick retreat into a sip of coffee and a nibble of my croissant. I detoured to my potatoes, thinking I might cleverly outflank this Maginot Line of over-peppering. But alas! home fries were no Belgium and had also been extremely well-fortified in pepper. I recoiled, and eyed my plate with a faint air of distaste. My dining companions had also been a victim of the same culinary catastrophy. A crime on one plate becomes an unpardonable sin on five.
In the food department, I tend to find Arts Cafe a little over-acclaimed from the times Ive been there and this brunch was no exception. I do however enjoy it as a place to have a coffee and dig into a nice novel, just not the food on their plates.
I put on my shoes. Theyre an ugly pair of enclosed sports sandals that are all torn up because I walked about 750 km from Pamplona to Santiago de Compostela in them. Theyre war-torn, but still functional. Those went over striped multi-colored socks. The rest was black - the dress shirt, the slacks, the black zip-up jacket from SixPack with the Lucifer logo from Kenneth Angers film Scorpio Rising on the back. On my head I was sporting a sharp two-tone fedora.
Open went the umbrella and on went the earphones playing the audio book of Mad, Bad and Dangerous to Know - I couldnt help but compare my minor discomfort from the rain with Ranulph Fiennes epic Arctic struggle.
I sat down in Arts Cafe. Soon to be joined by four friends, equally weary from the night before - a veritable gin-joint dance up - an underground bunker blitzed with dub step, falling beer bottles, skin painting, homemade shooters, tequila explosions, girlish indiscretions, body shots from back dimples, hazy narcotic smoke and the like.It was like a modern day poem by Joseph Moncure March.
I perused the menu and ordered. A variation on a classic eggs benedict - with ham, emmenthal cheese and a bechamel sauce.
The concept was promising, but the eggs were slightly overcooked- I would have preferred the yolks to be a bit runnier. The bechamel was a rather lifeless affair, visually unappetizing, though it did combine nicely with the emmenthal. However the benedict deal-breaker was due to one simple problem - the pepper. The eggs themselves had been liberally dusted, which might be acceptable, but upon taking my first bite, and on subsequent bites, my taste buds were veritably carpet bombed with pepper.
Disappointed, but nonplussed I took a quick retreat into a sip of coffee and a nibble of my croissant. I detoured to my potatoes, thinking I might cleverly outflank this Maginot Line of over-peppering. But alas! home fries were no Belgium and had also been extremely well-fortified in pepper. I recoiled, and eyed my plate with a faint air of distaste. My dining companions had also been a victim of the same culinary catastrophy. A crime on one plate becomes an unpardonable sin on five.
In the food department, I tend to find Arts Cafe a little over-acclaimed from the times Ive been there and this brunch was no exception. I do however enjoy it as a place to have a coffee and dig into a nice novel, just not the food on their plates.
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and Shaine, you know as well as i do that Les Enfants ROCKS!
The best EBs I've had are a veggie one at Genie's here in Portland with sauteed mushrooms, spinach and a delicate smoked tomato.
and
Cajun ahi benedict at a cafe on Maui. *drool*