Back From the Dead, and Hungry!

Two weeks ago, I was down in dumps. My blog idea was revealed to be anything but original, I was slightly reprimanded for my liberal use of French, and I hadn't had a decent breakfast in quite sometime.

Leave it to my girlfriend to come along and poop on the pity party. How did she poop on it, you ask? She took a giant dump all over my sulky self bitch-fest by dropping two beautiful, delicious, Eggs Benedict on my plate.

I'm not usually a huge Eggs Benedict fan.  Something about that hollandaise sauce just weirds me out. It always reminds me of a combination of brains and mayonnaise that coagulates with puss and old canker sores (Happy Halloween!). But it turned out to be one of the many highlights of this delicious, homemade breakfast.

The hashbrowns were called 'breakfast potatoes' and were really just a bastardized version of the Tater Tot. Well, they were somewhere between a hashbrown patty a la McDonalds, and the aforementioned Tater Tot. These hash-things were really good on their own, but with Sriracha Sauce... dear lord. My mouth was on fire, but a lovey dovey kind of fire. It was great.

The eggs were poached easy, which was great. When I cut into, yolk poured on to my plate like a freshly cut jugular vein (Happy Halloween!). The fried turkey didn't really stand out, which was terrific. With a meal like that, the last thing I would want to stand out would be the turkey. It was subtle enough though to add a little flavour that really contributed to the finality of the dish.

The cup of yogurt on the side had three almonds sprinkled on top. It was beautiful, and totally useless. I didn't touch it. I have it on good authority that it was good, but I wouldn't know. This is a breakfast blog, not some shitty useless yogurt blog.

The only downside to this breakfast, other than the aesthetically pleasing but stupidly boring yogurt, was the two cats crawling everywhere. These cats, who apparently carry the names Otis and Patrick, were all up in my grill the entire meal. I said, 'shoo' multiple times, but they were insistent. I thought I could distract them with the yogurt, but they weren't having that. They had their creepy green eyes set on that hollandaise sauce. After careful planning and strategizing, I managed to get my hands on a hoodie that had rather lengthy drawstrings attached, and the rest is history.

The meal itself was delicious, but for the future, I would hope that the owner of this establishment would get her goddamn cats under control. (P.S. They knocked over their water dish again. Fucking Patrick)

I would recommend this place to anyone that writes a breakfast blog, and is named Tyler Penner. Anyone else is not welcome. I like to sleep in, don't wake me.