Doesn't have quite the ring of Breakfast with Tiffany's, does it?
Ah, well. We do what we can.
What with my Tuesday through Saturday work schedule, the only day Jason and I usually have to spend together is Sunday. This tends to mean that we really push togetherness to sappy, gag-inducing heights on Sundays, and today was no exception.
We decided to hit up downtown, to see the expanded Indie Craft Parade. What we saw is going to be a whole other post, mostly because I don't want to ramble on for pages and pages and pages in a single entry, since this one is basically just going to be about Mary Beth's, the awesome place Jason and I had brunch this morning.
Trust me, I will ramble on long enough in this one entry to make you glad I'm splitting the day into two.
Our general rule is to park over in a parking garage and just walk wherever we want to go. It gives us time to talk, and it means we don't have to circle the few on-street parking spots to catch one open. I've seen the same red car go around the block six times before, which I found ridiculously sad. Like the movie Groundhog Day, but without the promise of Bill Murray.
To get to Mary Beth's, you just head down McBee off of Main Street for two or three blocks, head under the overpass, and into an upscale shopping-and-living area on the other side. By the time we got there, we were both pretty seriously hungry, and what I'd checked out of the menu online definitely looked promising. I don't want anything avant-garde for breakfast, I want some perfectly done eggs and maybe, if I'm feelin' crazy that day, some fruit.
And also coffee, but I need that to live, so that's different.
We were greeted right away, I suspect by the owner, an older gentleman who also showed us to our seat. I am a sucker for any place that asks if I prefer a booth, because I always do. I am definitely a booth person. I will stare longingly and sadly at booths that are open if not offered one.
Jason and I ordered a French press coffee to split, and I suggest if you're a coffee drinker who visits Mary Beth's that you do just that. It was velvet-y, had a great dark but not burnt flavor, and came with very chilled cream.
Jason has ADD, and coffee will put him to sleep if he doesn't drink a fairly large amount of it. Only a tiny cup or two of this and he was pretty awake, so that tells you how strong the coffee was. Yum.
Our waitress was super-cheerful and really nice, and I spent the whole time we were there trying to figure out what movie she reminded me of. No dice, but I guarantee I will sit up in bed around midnight suddenly knowing exactly what.
Then I will fall back asleep and by the time I wake back up, I'll have forgotten again.
Being me is magical.
Anyway, we ordered suspiciously similar foods. I snagged the Upstate Eggs Benedict, because seriously hollandaise sauce people. They serve hollandaise sauce in gallon buckets in heaven, I'm pretty sure.
It came with horseradish hollandaise and corned beef hash, the two eggs perfectly cooked; not exactly runny, but juuuuust soft enough, over an English muffin. Jason just went the straightforward route - two eggs, potato hash browns, corned beef hash. Saved himself the sauce, I suppose.
But got himself a biscuit.
We inhaled our food in a way that may have been vaguely embarrassing if it weren't for the fact that everyone around us was doing the same thing. There was an adorable baby at the next table over and babies should not be allowed where I can see them at this point, because it's like shaking a big old box of gold in front of Francisco Pizarro.
Except that I'm way less murderous. And don't steal or conquer Peru through sheer megalomaniac determination and hideous horror.
So... guess it's not like that at all.
The whole point of this is that locals should definitely eat breakfast over there. Like, now.
Now now now.