Punch Bowl Social ***3.75/5 stars

The word "punch" conjures up nightmares of misguided college concoctions that induce black-outs and give you a 5-star hangover. Yep, over that. But every now and then I get a wild urge to re-live my 20s. This morning I woke up feeling young and dumb and decided to grab friends and ride bikes to the western suburbs... Punch Bowl Social is a sprawling estab parked on the south side of the West End, St. Louis Park. Not surprisingly, it is a popular nation-wide chain. Normally, I'd scoff, but after navigating the slew of disorganized start-up restaurants in the city, there's something to be said for a restaurant/bar that has their shit together.

They've got the hipster look down. Barn wood and antlers, pendant lighting and neon signs. I don't hate it. And, I guess everything's bigger in the 'burbs. Holy shit, this place is MASSIVE. Last minute party of 20? No problem. And there's stuff to do. Lots of stuff. They have the usual bar games, PLUS bowling and bocce and karaoke rooms... You could waste some time here.

Drink time. Lots of options. Fresh-squeezed juices, shakes, punch bowls, of course, and the usual breakfast cocktails. We got the special pineapple/vodka/juice/Rufenal bowl. As expected, tastes like college.

I would commit man slaughter for these biscuits and jam. But I don't have to, cuz they're complimentary. #brunchitizer

The menu has some great options and some pretty healthy options. We got quinoa benny (yum). And the street tacos (dece).

And for those with 20-something metabolisms: chicken and waffles, a burger, biscuits and gravy and the classic.

The bathroom.

The crew.

If you're sick of your neighborhood's long lines and bad attitudes, escape the pretentious safety of MPLS and give the burbs a chance. You might wake up 24 hours later in a cookie-cutter town house with a massive migraine lying next to a stranger wearing stitchy jeans. We won't judge.

Cheers from Bad Eggs.

Jefe ***3/5 stars

Well, Turkey Day has come and gone, but let's not forget about Halloween, people. My procrastination is fueling your foggy memory of October. If you're a mild-mannered, passive-aggressive Minnesotan with christian guilt, your excuse to get freaky only comes around once a year (twice if you count 'merica's birthday.) And we try to stretch out the freak as long as possible...so why not start with brunch?! A wise person once said, you can't drink all day if you don't start in the morning. So, let's get crackin'...

Jefe is a relatively new joint positioned discretely on the south-east end of the ever-so-quaint St. Anthony Main. Graced with towering ceilings and a spacious floor plan, we thought it the perfect locale to host a massive costume brunch.

Jefe's interior is wicked cool. They have a sick patio, and a v. spicy statue of some day-of-the-dead bad hombre. The exposed brick, wooden beams and low lighting really enhance the old-world Mexico theme.

Understandably, a 20-person reservation can be hard to handle. As we watched the weirdos filter through the door, settle down and tuck into their first round of brunch cocktails, I knew this was going to be at least a 3-hour affair, and I was hoping the staff was up for it.

I'm getting all of it,
but the dinosaur in pink long underwear...

Banana Hammock, of course

Strange lovers on their anniversary.

Tee-hee.

It might be, that I've died, risen from the dead and ended up at brunch. I must've done something right... As you may have guessed, Jefe declares themselves an "Urban Hacienda" serving upscale Mexican street foods, a personal fave. The brunch menu reads accordingly, featuring tostadas, chilaquiles, guacamole, corn pancakes, plantains... And the American breakfast for all the v. boring locals who can't handle the spice.

 WARNING: THE BLOODY IS BAD. DON'T ORDER THE BLOODY.

Looks bueno, tastes no bueno.

So the wait staff split our table in half and tag-teamed the service. The irony of this, was that one dude was really great and attentive and the other dude forgot to drink her coffee that morning, or coke, or whatever she needed to be alive... Unfortunately, I was stuck on the unlucky side of the table along with Persephone and her Satyr mate, a shark, a hot dog and half of the Beetlejuice cast. I do cite first world problems here, as we did eventually get everything we needed... And it was pretty dece.

Really good, really over-priced guac.

Nicki swears the Classic is a brunch barometer.
If so, this one is dipping into bad weather territory.

Chliaquiles Verde

Breakfast Tostada

Chorizo Eggs Benedict
Them plantains, tho.

Corn Mango Pancakes

Simple Jefe Breakfast, my personal favorite.

Chilaquiles Rojo

After several hours and a bazillion photo ops, our bills arrived. We had some sorting to do, and luckily we're a peacful mob. We were happy to reassess the misappropriations. I do think the food was over-priced, and the service was sketchy, but we enjoyed our opening Halloween ceremonies here at Jefe...and I have to give points to the staff for putting up with our crew. For the record, other estabs have handled us like pros (nod to Eat Street Social). We might be back to see how a normal scenerio would conclude. Hasta.

One of these is the REAL Mr. Fox

Winning

Freaky Sailors

Party Monsters and Pancho Villa

Studio 2 ***3.5/5 stars

I've ridden by Studio 2 Cafe on 46th and Bryant many times, still groggy enough in the early stages of my morning commute that I'd never deduced exactly what was going on here. This place has been many things in recent years: a bar, a restaurant, a software development firm... I just assumed it was still having an identity crisis, and I avoid people and places that don't really know who they are...

Finally, out of desperation for a new review, I decided to take one of the last Sunday mornings of our beautiful short summer to conduct an investigation. Okay, so open air cafes are the shit, especially when you're trying to hold on to the fading season. Who doesn't want to feel like they're outside when they're inside and vice versa...

I really love the setup here. It's an order-at-the-counter deal with ample seating, and they give you old, shitty 45s for your table markers. 

You may have guessed, and it is true, that the coffee/espresso here is stellar. They also have beer and wine stuffs, some fancy mimosa concoctions, but unfortunately it's sober October, and I cannot report on their tastiness. I can report that I miss drinking like I miss a long lost lover.

This is a simple, but tasty breakfast sandwich with cheddar, egg, bacon, and garlic aioli. Kel added tomato. Good on her.

Nick got the veggie frittata with a side of bacon (to balance out the veggie) and some grapes (to balance out the bacon, of course.)

Somehow it took much longer for me to get my frittata...I guess the salad was giving them a hard time. I'm not even mad.

In the midst of a sugar hiatus, this toast with homemade jam makes me believe in some kind of god.

One last shot from street. It's cold now, but get over to Studio 2 and cozy up inside with your half-written business plan screen play memoir. This year it's all gonna finally happen. I believe in you. Namaste.