February 9, 2011 § 2 Comments

what i’m about to type is very important.
like super significant.
extra special.
in williamsburg, brooklyn there is a restaurant named egg.
if you’re ever near it, you must eat there.
and get breakfast.
you will never regret it. ever.
i don’t care what you get there so long as you try their coffee,
maybe the hashbrowns, definitely the carmelized grapefruit with mint,
or the eggs rothko in brioche, or their stone ground grits.
actually, fuck it. get whatever you want. it’s that good.
i go every time i’m in town. most recently,
my friend meredith and i sat ourselves down for the greatness:

did i mention you get to draw on the tables?
perfect if you’re either (a) a talented artist or, in my case, (b) immature.
their food is grown at their own farm in oak hill, new york.
on this subject egg’s website writes,

“Why have our own farm? After all, New York is awash in great farmer’s markets, and the farmers surrounding the city are all able to grow much better and more efficiently than we can. For us, it’s as much about education and understanding as anything, and it’s driven by a love of food that goes beyond the kitchen to the garden. Once you start growing and harvesting the food that you subsequently cook and serve, you understand food in a whole new way: not only because you understand the labor involved in getting those beets and lettuces to your walk-in in good shape, but also because you also start to understand that flavor begins with the ground your seeds are planted in. By the time vegetables hit the saute pan, a lot of what’s going to make them delicious (or not!) has been determined by the health of the environment they grew up in and the care with which they were harvested and delivered.”

so: go there.
if you do, be prepared to wait unless you go during the week.


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§ 2 Responses to egg.

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