Triple Rock ***3/5 stars

Behold, the T-Rock, the face-tat-and-bike-friendly estab at cedar/riveside (yeah, y'all know, I know). This breakfast is the stuff of legends, kinda. Maybe it's because most of the brunch-goers are still drunk or hungover from drinking beer under bridges all night, and are so grateful for anything that resembles food that they slur endless praises. Or, it's actually pretty decent (yeah, it really is).

First, can I say the lighting in here is amazing at 11am?

 

Okay, so the second thing I love here is the descriptions on the menu. Let me give you a selection of prose:

Northern Buscuits and Gravy
"Sticks to your ribs" Where the hell did that phrase come from? Why would you want something to do that? Sounds terrible. Kinda painful. Southern folk are running around saying it all the time in weird-ass accents. They must know what it means. Why would they insinuate it about their food if they didn't know what it meant? Seems like a bad marketing ploy to me. They're not giving it up though. Nope. Not a hush. Southern lips are sealed. They have the info. Damn... Though, they have kudzu too. Payback's a bitch. Egg and home fries, your choice of sausage or veggie sausage. (Not in any way vegan.) Deep south, my ass. How 'bout high north?

Actually, the menu is very vegan/veggie friendly...

I guess their bloodies are awarding winning, but we didn't have one today. We need vitamin C to stave off the killer cold/allergy season that is upon us. In fact, Nicole had lost her voice completely. Most likely from our shenanigans in LA the weekend before. I told the guys next to us that she was a popular jazz singer and had blown it out on tour.

So we ordered the Mother Trucker plus bacon - home fries, veggies, cheddar, topped with two eggs. Mine: over easy. Nicole's: scrambled.

 

And because we are hardcore athletes and can eat 3,000 calories a day, we had to have some pancakes, too. They're pretty decent here.

We enjoyed ourselves thoroughly. Hung out, drank a couple screw drivers, ate three pounds of food, played Joy Division on the juke box and took a bunch of drunk selfies on our smart phones. My message from Nicki an hour later sums it up.

Battle of bacon, indeed. 

So, Basically, the T-Rock rocks. Get there. But take your bike, cuz people who drive cars are assholes.