So for brunch Saturday, Schmoopy takes me to a gay Chinese diner. Wait, I'll explain.
Schmoopy, who I've known for almost a decade now, wanted to go sit and eat since this week she didn't have any issues she wanted to bounce off somebody while she thinks things through. I'm kinda of an informal adviser. She thinks she's bothering me, but she not, since the conversation is usually lively, the food is usually good, and we do actually like each other. So she'd told me about this little diner another friend of her's suggested, so I said what the heck, let's drop in. I now wonder about her other friends.
The spot is called Pot and Pan, and is in a little semi-nondescript strip mall at the corner of Piedmont and Cheshire Bridge. It's a little far north of midtown, but I should have realized the social creep of the neighborhood. So my error. It's a typical diner, small with a bar you can eat at, well used booths and tables, and cooks cooking right where you can see them. Exactly what you want in a diner. But then I started noticing the ...er, small differences.
The clientele was unabashedly of an "alternative" lifestyle. I rarely go places where you get groups of three and four men, male-male couples, hugging, touching, being affectionate and generally having a good time. Not that there is anything wrong with that. We sat in the back and Schmoopy joked that apparently all the women were consigned to the rear tables. (Note: for the record, all the women at this time were seated in the back of the restaurant)
So our waitress comes over, and she's Chinese. I think. She was Asian descent, let's say that. Then I noticed so was the cook. And the other cook. And just about everybody else working there. And so this was the first time I had ever been in a Chinese run, apparently Chinese owned, restaurant that did not serve Chinese food. Let me find a restaurant run by Greeks that only serves Polynesian. Or a Indian Restaurant with an all Irish staff.
But despite all the outside the box thinking going on, the food was so-so. Schmoopy had eaten there before, and thought it was good, so I ventured outside of my normal "test" items. I mean if you can't scramble eggs, cook hash browns or make grits, can you really say you serve breakfast? I had waffle with eggs and bacon, and maybe I'm spoiled, but the waffle was a little overdone. The bacon was a little over crispy as well , but that's situational. The spot was busy. Schmoopy had the french toast, which more like homemade french toast than any other restaurant's french toast I've ever seen. We did however, clean our plates. That maybe because the portions weren't overgenerous either, but that may due the economy more than anything else.
Also for the record, Schmoopy did the best she could with the puppies, but she apparently doesn't like to control them.
Would I go again? Maybe. I mean it was different, and the prices were reasonable, but it wasn't a gourmet...or a least lavish... old southern country style breakfast. But it shole was inneresting, no lie.
Barkeep, the sweet tea again. With lemon. Hey, it was good.