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.