Parka **2.5/5 stars

Parka is a trendy little cafe down on east lake that I'd been hearing good things about. A concept of the Victory 44 peeps, I had to see for myself.

Very much a casual cafe atmosphere rather than a restaurant vibe...it's bright and warm in here. The cafe adjoins a tres chic fashion and home goods boutique...we'll get to that in a minute...

Order at the counter and sit style. The menu is pretty tradish, featuring simple comfort foods like oatmeal, egg sandwiches, farm breakfast, mac and cheese. Bacon wrapped dates add some flair. Don't forget the Dogwood coffee, gurrrrl.
 

Beer and wine only. Kel had this lingonberry mimosa. Sweet. Too sweet? Maybe? I drank the town last night. I needed coffee. The coffee is killa good.

Chalk drawing above our table.

Nicki likes it strong and black.

So, Kel got the Maple Grilled Cheese with pickled apple and bacon, which she enjoyed.

Nick got the eggwhich with some pubic greens. Underwhelming.

I needed some mouth to mouth from a bacon cheeseburger and bacon fries. My heart is cramping just looking at this. And it wasn't that great, honestly. That bun tasted like it came from a cheap plastic bag with polka dots. The bacon powder on the fries tasted like nothing. What a waste of my burger hall pass.

And Nicky got the Farm breakfast, which was no bueno. Soggy hashbrowns and under-cooked eggs...

But, OMG, there's an old snowmobile on the ceiling!!! Totes adorbs. I'm not even mad.

I think parka is great if you live in the neighborhood and coffee and over-priced thrift store knock-offs are your main priorities. That was harsh...Forage is pretty neat.
I leave you with the swag...

If you're jonesing for a hand-stitched iPhone case made of recycled military fabric, an indian chief blanket for your nursery or an ironic animal print with a geometric thread pattern... look no further. Forage is a fitting compliment to the quasi-pretentious, yet totes adorbs Parka cafe.

Flat furniture. So mod.

Nature. It's so...unnatural.

SUP

The Strip Club ****4.25/5 stars

Will someone please tell me why the french I am back in St. Paul again? And not just St. Paul but some weirdo abandoned neighborhood off of Mounds Bvld? Okay, I promise, though, this trip is definitely worth your while.

10am on a Saturday at the Strip Club looks like this (thanks Michelle and Matt for the early ass rezzie). A small, dark, sparsely decorated, sparsely populated dining room, yet somewhat cozy. Natural light glows from the large front windows. There's a slight eeriness about this place, like we walked into a dream, a warp in time. The walls seem wise, like they've soaked up a lot of secrets. Shhhhh...

Or maybe it's just my foggy brain from the previous night at Dangerous Man. We need drinks. Special drinks. Drinks that grow hair...like, all over your body. House-made, keg-compressed tonic and sour enhance many of these.

I started with a classic bloody. Dang, it's good. Horseradish and citrus and just the right balance of salty and sweet garnished with an awesome house-made pickle.

On the left we have a classic mimosa and on the right, the Pretty in Drink: Vodka, Galliano, lemonade, grapefruit juice, honey syrup, Easy & Oskey Apricot Bitters. Really refreshing and not as sweet as you might think.

Broad Strokes: a manhatten of sorts... this is getting serious.

So this is the place where you go to fatten up for winter and then continue to foster that extra layer for several months. Meat, meat and more meat. In fact they strongly discourage the V-word dieters from attending. No substitutions/eliminations. While Haute Dish is also known for their hearty dishes, the Strip Club has a certain finesse that makes their plates seem less dangerous. Watch out.

This is the Morning After Shrimp. Yes, you can have this for breakfast. Do it.

The duck confit hash. Gorge.

This french toast should be called Holy Mother of God. Irish whisky spiked caramel sauce. That sausage needs no introduction.

The Papi's beef. Charming, no? There's brisket in there. And a fried egg. And your will to live.

The Irish. Nuf said.

A burger. Standard.

Annnnnd... Wait for it... the Logger's Tower. Yep. Triple stacked layer of fried egg, ham and cakes. Unbelievable. Off the charts. A dish for those, like I, who crave both sweet and savory at breakfast time. A dish built for two...or three. A dish that can warm the deepest, darkest place in your soul.

So, obvs, everyone was stoked on their food and drinks. The service was great. Only reason this place loses points is cuz it's in the middle of freakin' nowhere. Do not fear. Go to there.

Mirror, mirror, how many miles do I have to run to burn off this meal?

Love the hand-painted glass.

Dixie's **2.75/5 stars

Thanks to the Strip Club being closed for a private party, I had to revert to Plan B for my final brunch of 2013. Aggg... the dreaded lunch buffet. It's never been my favorite, for several reasons...

Number 1: Cooked eggs do not age well. Scrambled is the only form that really likes to hang out in a warming pan and scrambled eggs are the vanilla ice cream of brunch.

Number 2: Catered meals remind me of my college dining service where the cereal was the only safe thing. And then when the flood victims moved in from the red river valley in the spring of 1997, they gave them all of the good sugary cereal. My Fruit Loops addiction was over.

Number 3: It's just too much damn food. Nobody, seriously nobody, needs to eat eggs, grits, fried chicken, bacon, sausage, cinnamon rolls, fruit plate and wash it down with a freaking chocolate fondue fountain before noon on a Sunday. I'm not even supposed to be out of bed before noon on a Sunday. But you advertise a Champagne brunch and somehow I just can't control myself.

So Dixie's (like Dixie Land, yeah you get the picture) is in the affluent intersection of Dale and Grand in St. Paul. This is the second time in two weeks that I've been to this distant sister city. I must be getting old... 

It's a large wood-paneled interior with dim lighting. I called for a reservation, but they lost it, so we got seated way back in the dark and depressing party room. They kept saying how lucky we were to be back there, with our own tv to watch the game. I don't care about football; where's my mimosa?

My lovely brunch crew. I adjusted the exposure in iPhoto.

Our server immediately offered the bottomless mimosa, of which we all partook. And she was good about refills. Coffee and other beverages are free as well, all for a mere $24. Bloody bar is only $3.50 per.

They do eggs benedict and omelettes to order. Smart, I thought, cuz they're way better fresh, but they took forever. Looks alright, but the hollandaise was a disaster.

Yeah, so there's all that stuff I mentioned earlier, eggs, potatoes, grits, breakfast meat, chicken, jumbalya, salad, fruit, rolls... But no waffles or cakes. Odd. I was contemplating a choice when Bridget reminded me, "It's a buffet, take it. If you don't want it, just ditch it and load up another plate. #4 thing I dislike about buffets. The wastefulness. Word is the fried chicken, cheesy grits and biscuits were the most tasty. I enjoyed the salad as well.

That's honey butter. Yow!

Fruit, bitch.

There's is a pile of mediocre desserts surrounding the fondue fountain. Looks pretty, though!

 The best thing was actually the rice krispy treats. 

So this place was way better than Al Vento, but still comes up as barely acceptable by my team of experts. I'm officially done with brunch buffets. New year's resolution. But if you drink 8 mimomsas, you've made it worth your while!

Happy brunching to all from Bad Eggs!