Everyone else instagrams their brunch so why the fuck shouldn’t I? Oh how low I’ve fallen. Eh. Follow @brunchthefuckup for pictures of clean plates and swearing. Maybe funny bathroom graffiti. But not normal food shit. That wouldn’t be me.
Author Archives: Sarah
Rosebud – Davis Square, Somerville, MA
Rosebud American Kitchen and Bar
If you’ve ever been here before, you know that I fucking love to the point of marrying despite not really seeing the point of marriage as state institution because isn’t there better and just as cheap ways to get all those protections? The Painted Burro. They do the best damn Mexican brunch I’ve ever had, and if we can’t think of a place to go and are the same timezone as Davis Square I will suggest going there. I bring this up because the same guy who owns PB owns Rosebud, an adorable diner right next door. When I heard this I knew I had to try their brunch, if only in an effort to have two restaurants I would want to drive several hours for, should I somehow be kidnapped and wake up in the political wasteland of New Hampshire.
I found instead a decent brunch place. Which is fine, but after the Burro I was expecting “fuck yeah!”s and “holy shits!” all over the place. There was only one plate served to us that was that exact thing, so I’m going to completely ignore the okay french toast and acceptable omelet that Talls and I had and just devote this post to the one shining, unfuckingbelievable glory of this meal:
HUSHPUPPIES SENT FROM LOUISVILLE.
Did you hear the angels playing horns out of their asses to the glory of these hush puppies? If you didn’t I guess you’re a boring food-hating dickwad or something. Or maybe you haven’t seen a lot of illuminated manuscripts. One of those.
To begin, aside from the bacon and scallion amazingness that just cranks these fuckers up to eleven, these are just well made hushpuppies. What are hushpuppies, you say? One of the fine fried fruits of the South, my friend! It’s a ball of fried cornmeal batter. When well done they are crisp on the outside, warm and a little crumbly on the inside, and have never been polluted by the racist horror that is that bitch Paula Deen. These hushpuppies are well done. AND THEN they also have diced bacon and scallions inside that manage to add just the right amount of flavor without taking over from the down home corn taste. AND THEN they give a fucking pineapple-chili glaze to dip them in so that your tastebuds explode with delight and you are ruined for deliciousness for the rest of your life.
I can’t, you guys. I can’t even. Look how little I’ve sworn in this entry! Do you know why that is? It’s because I’m dazzled by the goddamn memory of these little nuggets of perfection. Ugh. I don’t give a fuck if you grew up with hushpuppies or you’ve never had them in your life: get your ass to Rosebud and eat as many of these things as you can. Get a drink. Take a pie home, since they get good pie reviews and honestly any place that does hushpups well likely bakes a fine-ass pie. The rest of the menu isn’t bad, but these balls of deliciousness are too amazing to waste your time eating anything else.
Spot Cafe – Watertown, MA
They don’t have a website so the above link goes to their Yelp page.
All other opinions of France aside, they make some goddamn fabulous breakfast foods. Spot Cafe has attempted to bring those tasty ass pastries to suburb town, Massachusetts, and succeeded well. Also, they covered a tiny space with teapots for decoration and sale. Cause why the fuck not?
In honor of this, I’m going to translate my entire post into French. Using the internet. Maybe some other languages too. And then translate it back into English. May this fuckery add to your blog-consumption experience. The top paragraphs will be my original words, and the paragraph after the —– will be the translation garbled bullshit. Have fun!
I like waffles. I like fresh strawberries. I like whipped cream. I like Nutella. Spot Cafe combined all these things perfectly, slapped them on a plate, and put them in front of me after serving me some lovely coffee. Appreciate them and their charmingly bitchy regular customers we got to over hear in the tiiiiiiiny space that is this restaurant.
—–
I like waffles. I love fresh strawberries. I want whipped cream. I love Nutella . Spot Cafe combination of all these things perfectly , slapped on a plate and put them in front of me , talk to me after some nice coffee. And charm regular customers appreciate bitch we hear in space tiiiiiiiny this restaurant.
talk to me after some nice coffee
Talls opted for an omelette full of tasty things like cheese and veggies, and it was everything it was promised to be. The home fries were also delicious and well seasoned. Since things like this hella tasty thing exists I have no fucking clue why one of the Yelp reviews is bitching about a lack of non-carb things. ALSO, why the fuck do you go to a French brunch place for dishes without bread products. FRANCE IS MADE OF BUNS YOU ASS.
—–
Toll opted for an omelette filled with tasty things like cheese and vegetables, and that was all it promised to be. The chips are tasty and well seasoned . Since things like Hella Good thing I do is Fuxing thought that one of the Criticisms Yelp is bittshing about a shortage of things - notch . Also, what the fuck - you go to a place of French Branch dishes without cakes. France buns you ass.
France buns you ass.
As you can see in the above picture I added bacon as a side, and Talls got his usual sausage. Or at least, he thought that was what he was going to get. He reported they were nummy despite looking like a kind of a disturbing-ass mess.
—–
As you can see in the picture above I added bacon as a group , and I 'm cuts his usual sausage . Or at least he thought that was what I was going to get . Nummy reported that although it seems a lot of the type of anxiety disorder - Oslo .
anxiety disorder – Oslo
In conclusion: good food, good coffee, good juice, teapots for sale. Nothing to do with Oslo.
A Well-Considered Ranting Upon the Nature of Corned Beef Hash
Guest Post by Talls
Note: there are so many links in this post, you guys. SO MANY. Because hotlinking is non-cool. Please click through them all to fully enjoy this post.
When I was a kid I thought corned beef hash sounded like the worst food ever made. Obviously it involved some sort of corn, and some beef, and you smashed it up. Ugh. Gross.
Even as an adult it took me a while to try this stuff because, let’s face it, it still looks kind of gross. Then I tried some that wasn’t out of a can and it was fucking great and now apparently I’m some kind of goddamned corned beef hash evangelist.
So now I’m stuck in College Park, MD for another nine hours, which sounds like a doctor, but it is not, it is a town where they don’t believe in brunch at all and hardly even fucking believe in breakfast. This place is a blasted culinary wasteland until 4 PM. Thanks to that bullshit I have some extra fucking time on my hands, so let me explain to you corned-beef hash.
Because clearly there are people who need it explained.
Some people seem not to understand what corned beef hash actually is. And not in the way that most people don’t know why corned beef is called “corned”, which I’m not going to explain to you, you can find that shit out on your own, I am not your father. No, some people – people who run restaurants no less – seem to have deeper, inexplicable misunderstandings that, seriously, what the fuck.
This is what proper corned beef hash looks like:
As you can see, it has roughly equal amounts of corned beef and potatoes. It has small amounts of onions and red peppers. It has eggs on top of it, which is optional but recommended. It probably has salt and pepper and garlic and some thyme and oh my god I want this so bad this town has nothing for breakfast I’m so unhappy here all they have is a Denny’s why isn’t the plane leaving yet.
Ahem.
ANYway, those are the proper proportions. The corned beef should be lean. The potatoes should be in small pieces, and the corned beef should be in roughly the same size pieces. The whole thing should be made on a griddle or skillet or something, and not in a pot or in an oven. Cook the potatoes separately first and then combine, so they get crispy. This takes work, but it is not fucking rocket science. I can tell you this because I am a fucking rocket scientist, and NASA does not launch fucking corned beef into space. Any more.
Let me show you some things that are not quite proper corned beef hash:
No, that’s chopped-up corned beef, and hash browns. Note the unnecessary comma, which I added in because that is clearly fucking two separate things.
Food photography is hard, y’all. Are those carrots and cabbage? No. Don’t try to Irish this up.
Did you use mashed potatoes??
The above shit is clearly Shepherd’s Pie.
That’s home fries with little bits of corned beef sprinkled in for flavoring. I mean, it looks ok, but someone’s trying to skimp on ingredients.
Opposite problem.
This, as previously indicated, is hash browns that someone waved some corned beef around.
Corned will not fit in any mouth.
I said small pieces. We are not making Extra-Fucking-Chunky Style here.
That’s not corned beef hash, that’s cutsie bullshit.
Ok, that might be genius. You get a pass this time.
and
No, that is a fucking box and a can. The things inside are corned beef hash on a technicality, the way that jello and glue are both technically horses.
Stop. Just stop.
What are you doing.
There are more images online – images too awful to show you here. Images that further erode my already-rock-fucking-bottom view of the world as a whole. It’s good to know that I always have more goodwill for humanity to erode. Seriously, don’t search Wikimedia Commons for corned beef hash. You will regret your life.
On the plus side, there are places out there that do get it. Even places that can’t figure out “cut things small” and “go easy on the thyme” generally end up with something delicious. Just try to screw up only one of these things at a time, ok? Corned beef hash is some good damned food. This is culinary alchemy here. Send a message back in time to Mini-Talls and tell him that, also also how to fucking time travel you inconsiderate douche.
Why is my plane not back in Boston yet?
The Asgard – Cambridge, MA
The Asgard Irish Pub and Restaurant
We’re back, bitches! Which I know I’ve said before, so blah blah blah, fuck me I’m an asshole, blah. Look, do you want mea culpas or do you want raving about tasty food? Neither, you want pictures of my meals! Ha! Goddamn it, when did I become that person? Probably a few months before I bought this fucking domain name.
The Asgard is an Irish, not Norse pub, but I’m sure Tom and Chris would still be welcome here if they showed up in their Avengers attire. It’s in Central Square and close enough to Toscanini’s that if you eat a late brunch you can saunter across a street or two and have the best fucking ice cream ever afterwards.
…fuck, why didn’t we do that?
Anyway, it was a cold and rainy day in April that for some reason showed up at the end of June when we ate here, and I was so fucking happy to have a warm mug in my hands that I forgave them their only okay coffee. And then they served my meal, and I didn’t give a shit about that at ALL anymore.
Sing with me: Amazing waffle gets rid of everything awful!
This fucking thing showed up and my day was MADE. The waffle was crispy and chewy in all the right places, the chicken was juicy and delicious, and the spicy maple syrup was real and just the right level of heat. I was in comfort food heaven and hummed to myself throughout the entire damn meal.
A traditional Irish breakfast at the Viking Irish Pubthing.
Talls, being Talls, went for his favorite land of a million puddings meal, the Irish breakfast. They may not have named their restaurant correctly, but they did a Celtic brunch standard proud. He ate the entire thing and declared it, as we say in Boston, wicked pissah.
To sum up: shitty coffee but fucking awesome food. Better to brunch here and get your coffee affogato over at Toscanini’s, I think.
Blue Star Cafe and Pub – Wallingford, WA
I’ve returned, bitches! Enjoy some new food recs that have nothing to do with my usual geographic area. But if you end up in the Freemont/Wallingford area of Seattle because you’ve been kidnapped by octopi who get tired of carrying your whiny ass before they get to the amazing aquarium there, at least you’ll know where to get some damn good brunch.
Blue Star is right near Archie McPhee’s, which is a bizarre joke emporium that Talls and I did not go in to because we fail as human beings and hate everything fun. Seriously, they tweeted the mayor Seattle about getting the zoning for their parking lot changed to keep a unicorn, and the mayor tweeted back that he was all for it, so they named the damn single horned rainbow horse after him. Because. I despise myself.
Anyway, back to food. Originally I thought I was going to order one of their fucking amazing waffles, but they didn’t have real maple syrup. I need to learn to travel with a flask of that shit. Then, I planned to console myself with one of their massive cinnamon rolls, but they were all out. Fuck you Blue Star, don’t you understand that breakfast carbs are the source of my power!? So I had to “settle” for the Cabaret Scramble. I sobbed the entire time it took me to devour this savory deliciousness.
Sundried tomatoes, green & red peppers, fresh mushrooms, basil & garlic, topped with parmesan
Woe is me! Talls subjected himself to two eggs over easy on top of a pile of corned beef hash, as he is wont to do. He commented early on that there was a ridiculous amount of thyme in his hash, and I had to agree. It was like some asshole in the kitchen played a loose spice shake top gag on the cook and he was so pissed he didn’t bother to make a fresh batch.
a mixture of our house corned beef, peppers & onions topped with 2 eggs any style
So while the coffee and orange juice was good, and the food I had to get in the end was good, Talls’ dish was way too thyme-y and they didn’t have the cinnamon buns their menu played up or any idea of what the fuck kind of syrup is supposed to be served with breakfast. Not the worst. Not the best. I declare this meh.
Not About Goddamned Brunch
I’m sorry I’ve been an asshole and not posted anything for way too long. I’ll be on vacation next week so I hope to make it all up to you bastards then. In the meantime, if you’re in the USA tomorrow is midterm elections! Please use this appropriately profane website to figure out where the fuck you should go to vote:
Where’s My Fucking Polling Place?
I’ll resume posting pictures of my food soon, bitches!
My Other Kitchen – Belmont, MA
My Other Kitchen – does not appear to have a website so the link goes to Yelp
This is the second place I drive past every day on my way to work, but it was small enough and busy enough I’ve again managed to never stop by. Come the weekend I packed Talls into the car and drove like a bat out of hell to try and get one of the few tables – which are all outdoors, by the way. The tables were already all taken because the weather was fucking gorgeous. Fall mornings in New England are the best. We went in and ordered anyway, as there is an inside bar as a last resort. Talls waited for the food while I stalked diners outside, and my creepieness paid off! We ended up with a table in the shade near an adorable English ex-pat family and fucking delicious food.
The special was caramelized pear french toast. Guess who ate this?
The coffee was delightful and unending, while the orange juice was delicious and doled out in small, expensive amounts. I’m honestly surprised this isn’t the case more often with fresh squeezed, but there you are. The french toast was just as rediculously fucking tasty as it looks in that picture.
Talls had a cast iron breakfast, complete with actual cast iron pan.
There was chorizo, scrambled eggs, hash browns, cheddar cheese, and one home made cornbread muffin in this pile of noms. I think the white stuff is yogurt, but I’m entirely sure. Regardless, all of this was consumed and I was able to steal very little for myself.
This is a tiny place that has little indoor seating, so lines happen here with ease. As long as the weather holds it’ll be a bitching place to eat, and when that falls apart it will become an amazing place to eat out from. The only thing it’s missing is an indoor dining area, but with the winters Massachusetts gets that’s a pretty big thing.
The Sweet Peach Diner – Belmont, MA
This is a place I drive past every single morning on my way to work, and every time I ask myself: why the fuck am I not stopping and shoveling food into my mouth instead continuing on into the office? Luckily the traffic around there in the morning is a bitch so there’s no easy way to park and lose my job to deliciousness. I finally got there recently when Talls and I wanted to go to a new brunch place but not drive too far.
This place has excellent food, and as I said up there, fuck all for parking. There’s a tiny amount on the street, and a parking lot got the local nature reserve not too far away. If you come at a classic brunch time like 10 on a Sunday, this place is packed. We did this and ended up eating at the counter because there were no tables available, and still had a great meal. Wonderful servers, a nice set up, and great food can’t be beat.
The Sweet Peach Stuffed French Toast. It is as fantastic as it looks.
Me? Eat French toast? I know, so fucking shocking. This pile of deliciousness was jam packed with peaches, fresh whipped cream, and all around tastiness. It also came with real maple syrup, because this place knows where the hell it is: New Fucking England.
There was also bacon. A lady needs protein.
The Tallsasaurus went for something hashy, as is his wont, although this time in Eggs benedict form. It was on cornbread instead of biscuits, and was fabulous. There’s also a pulled pork benedict on their menu that I will have to try sometime.
The hash benedict. Also crazy good.
Final verdict? Get your ass over to Belmont, find some way to park, and go eat at this diner whenever you can. They know what the fuck they’re doing brunchwise, and they do it well.
Birthday Brunch!
Talls turned older recently (if he will let me record his old man voice I will happily put it up here. It’s my favorite fucking thing sometimes.) and while initially I had wanted to throw him an ice cream birthday party as that’s the food blog he would have, we ended up doing brunch instead. Oh no. Boo hoo. It’s so shitty things worked out this way.
I made a pile of food and everyone else either brought food, maple syrup, and juice. We were buried under a metric shit-ton of maple syrup and juice for weeks afterwards. Our friends are the best!
I will post the other foods in a second, but let’s all first marvel at the piece de resistance:
It’s a fucking pancake cake bitches. A cake. Made. Out of PANCAKES.
This was Talls’ birthday cake: layers of gigantic pancakes with homemade raspberry syrup and vanilla whipped cream that had goddamn flecks of vanilla bean in it. It’s creatrix is a semi-professional baker, and she did not balk at this assignment when I asked her to make this thing. She sat down and made this glorious pile of deliciousness, and then fed it to us. It was as tall as a fucking regular layer cake you guys. It arrived in a cake carrier. I couldn’t even, and I still can’t. This woman is the fucking best and the champion of the world.
And now for the regular food:
I made quiche and remembered to get a before pic!
I made baked french toast and did not remember! Also a waffle maker was brought and I made batter so we had fresh waffles.
There were piles of cheddar cheese scrambled eggs!
And last but not least, mystery meat (alligator as it turned out) and parfait. There was also bacon and sausage, but they were gone way too fast for photos.
We spread blankets on the grass and had a picnic with lots of people in our backyard. Everyone was well fed – especially my dog who snarfed a good amount of waffle when people weren’t looking.
In conclusion, I recommend throwing a fucking awesome brunch birthday party for the brunch companion in your life, and not looking for suggestions for it on Pinterest because you’ll feel like a non-glamorous ass otherwise.
Brunch the Fuck Up 