By Amy McCarthy
By Scott Reitz
By Scott Reitz
By Lauren Drewes Daniels
By Alice Laussade
By City of Ate
Doors held open for me count: 2
Temperature of restaurant: 30 below zero with a slight chance of "holy crap my nose just froze off of my face"
So, yesterday my stomach and I were having a debate about what I was going to eat for lunch. My stomach was like, "Raaaaaraaaaaraaarg," and I was like, "I had Mexican food yesterday." So, then my stomach was like, "Raaaaragurgle?" And I was like, "First off, is the potty mouth really necessary? Gah. And secondly, having breakfast for lunch is the best idea you've had since you told me to dip my french fries into my Frosty." I turned my blinker on and headed into the Mecca Restaurant parking lot.
Once seated at my own comfy booth, I immediately revealed myself as a total newbie and asked if they serve breakfast at lunchtime. Sassafrass said, "What do you think this is, House Apancakes?" And just as I thought, "Oh, damn. What the hell am I going to order instead?" she let me off the hook, smiled and said I could absolutely have breakfast. I happily ordered Frances' Favorite and, eyes never leaving her pad of paper, my waitress instantly fired at me the most important questions I'd answer all day. "Ham, sausage or bacon?" Bacon. "Eggs?" Scrambled. "Grits, hash browns or biscuit?" Hash browns. And yes, a short stack comes with that, and you get it all plus a drink for less than 10 bucks. This meal is so big, it's arguably two meals. It completely fills up two plates. I actually scooted over in the booth to my second plate once I'd finished my bacon, eggs and browns so that I could get the proper angle of attack for my buttered and syruped short stack. Jealous? You should be. And, you should also book a post-lunch naptime meeting with yourself on your calendar if you should choose to follow in my food coma-inducing footsteps.
Frances' Favorite at Mecca made me a believer in real, full-on, four-food-groups-all-cooked-in-the-same-grease breakfast. Never again will I force down one of those granola turdlet breakfast bars that promises me it'll taste like a blueberry pie when really it's gonna taste like a post worm-dinner bird vurp. Instead, I'm getting my vitamins from some Mecca blueberry pancakes with actual berries in them. Because vitamins are good, but vitamins hidden under a forkful of butter are waaaaay better.