Victor's 1959 Cafe ***3/5 stars

I had to ask for help on this one. My to-brunch list was running low and my parents were coming into town. I reached out on the Facebooks and found out that people get pretty passionate about their brunch. I mean, of course, so do I. I got some suggestions for places in St. Paul with cheap and veritably endless boozy drinks. Not really my parent's bag. My professional drinking team and I will get to those soon. When someone did mention a better, more rents-friendly alternative, Victor's Cuban Cafe, I perked up. Others jumped right in to argue that it's always too crowded and not that impressive, but I believe otherwise. Let me tell ya why...

So, this place is like, totes adorbs. A small, ramshackle building nestled in the quickly gentrifying Kingfield neighborhood, it's usually overflowing with peeps jonesing for a side of black beans with their eggs.

It was kinda chilly, so we opted for the patio and were seated within 10 minutes. The menu is pretty extensive, even includes some "americano" breakfast options in case you are afraid of ethnic foods.

 

First things first. Coffee and mimosas as big as your head. Mom says: one and done.

This whole place is tagged up, yo.

 

Like mother, like daughter, we both ordered the Dia Y Noche. Simple, but oh so lovely. Eggs OE, rice, beans, plantains. Tough to get fresh plantains here, but these are totally decent. I could seriously eat this for every meal.

 

Dad got the Ranchero Cubano, which is basically Juevos Rancheros. 

He's stoked. Can you tell? Maybe the coffee hasn't kicked in yet...

Here's the cuban toast, which I wouldn't recommend. You pay extra and it's basically a white bun cut in half and fried. You're not fooling me, ese.

The inside is tagged up as well... adorned with xmas lights and various ephemera. Cozy.

There's a reason why this place is always busy... Weekday brunch is definitely easier to get a table, otherwise pack your lawn chair and your sharpie and practice your 3D lettering and Castro caricatures while you camp out in the lot. Yeah, Pat.

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.

Al Vento **2.5/5 stars

When Mizz Franklin texted me and said, "We need to do Al Vento brunch. It's $20 all can eat and drink." I jumped on the phone and made a reservation, assuming it would be slammed. They set me up a table for six and we were good to go. Then things began to unravel...well, not really, but I'm trying to add dramatic effect. So after discovering that Beth and Matt couldn't join us. I asked around to some Bad Eggs friends/fans and was able to round up Miss Colleen Belmont, Alyssa Fox and Paul Stroot. Add it up, folks, that's four, not six... 

Al Vento is a good 5-mile bike ride from 35th and Blais... you get to ride the creek for most of it.

As we pulled up, I saw the amazing patio and was hell bent on getting seated outside... So in this modern age, I figure people are pretty good at adjusting reservations, especially when your party shrinks in size. I am owning up to the fact that we were ten minutes late and two people short.

But our table ended up being in the loud, dark and crowded back dining room...

As Colleen's mom says, if you want it, ask for it, so we politely asked to be reassigned to an outside table. This caused a lot more drama than I expected. Our server was totally cool with it, but our host was not. I can tell you that in all my years of dining, I have never been reprimanded for changing a reservation last minute. Oh, I'm sure it's annoying, but most people just suck it up and go with it. The host at AV was quick to explain to us how they had held that table especially for us and that next time we'd better not make this mistake again. Yeahhhh... The dining room wasn't full. I'm sure some fine, less obnoxious family was seated soon after.

Nevs the less, we made it outside! So worth it. But now we've been black-listed. 30 minutes passed before Al got her screwdriver... She's still smilin'...

So that's the buffet Italiano. Eggs, potatoes, sausage, ham, pancakes, cheese, greens and a CHOCOLATE FONDUE FOUNTAIN????

We loaded up. But, honestly, I've never met a brunch buffet that blew my mind. And this one is only okay. The eggs were cold, the poached were hard, there was no bacon... there was no bacon.

BUT there was an endless supply of mimosas, bloodies and screw drivers. 

We closed the brunch down. Colleen had to call her lovely fiance for a ride, so I'd call it an ultimate success. Remember to ask for an outside table and keep your afternoon open... getting home will be an adventure...

The Bad Waitress ***3/5 stars

Biking is the best way to get to brunch. We saddled up this fine pre-fourth morning to hit one of my old faves, The Bad Waitress. I mean, how brilliant, to put a disclaimer on your service right in the name of your joint. Truth is, the "service" is not always that great, but I feel like I can't really say anything about it... I, myself was once a bad waitress. A terrible one, really, that spilled coffee on small children and flipped malt cups onto ceilings. For real. But I needed $$ to buy malt liquor and Girbaud jeans, so I guess it was worth it.

So the deal here, if you're not aware, is that you write down your own order and pay at the register. Then they bring your food out. I hope this strategically works for the business, because the novelty of taking my own order is lost on me...

Each table has a persona. We got the Joker today, which Nicki referred to as the Riddler. We almost didn't get our food...

The BW has a pretty extensive menu; whatever you're looking for brunchwise and lunchwise, you will probably find it. They boast organic ingredients. I feel like this is just a given nowadays, but appreciated, nonetheless. FYI, the pancakes are quite good.

Beer and wine only; we ordered a carafe of mimosa.

And a badass coffee for my ladies. Drip coffee makes me rage, so I don't usually partake, unless I need to be woken from the dead.

The interior is really beautiful and eclectic, diner style, and the juke box has some great tracks.

Egg white omelette with turkey and spinach and gruyere. Quite lovely, although I might skip the turkey next time. Something about sandwich meat in my eggs just turns me off.

 

This be a scramble with broccoli and shit. Nicki was wondering why she was so gassy after this meal...

 

Another scramble with some chorizo and crap in it. That strawberry jelly was the jam. The hashbrowns were perfection.

 

Sexy fools on Civia's. Get yourself one, so you can go to brunch in style.

 

The Bad Waitress promises you nothing, but rest assured, Bad Eggs gives this Eat Street gem three enthusiastic thumbs up ;)

Hazel's ***3.5/5 stars

I've been on hiatus. Apologies. Lack of proper internet service has kept me from my duty to report on the search for best brunch. Fortunately, a strapping young Comcast prodigy woke me from my delirium Saturday morning between the hours of 8 and 10am and now I am back with the times. Better late than never, I have a good report.

Even though I sort of loathe the idea of this neighborhood with its cute kitschy shops and its 30-something 1.5 child families, I connect with the nostalgia of old NE, simpler times and admiration for a place where brunch is taken very seriously.

Enter Hazel's and you'll find a pile of eager, well-behaved adults, a few toting their well-behaved offspring, waiting patiently for a table. I trust it immediately because of the visible, well-lit kitchen and chalk-board menu (gets me every time). The place isn't huge, so you can expect a wait.

Being the Saturday of Memorial weekend, and being that the weather was on its never-ending trend of shit-tastic, people were flocking to drown their sorrows in piles of homemade cinnamon rolls, braised meats and "well, okay, if i must" sake bloodies, which, in my opinion, were too spicy.

Tempting.

 

The menu has some cool stuff in homage to our fallen heroes. Like American French Toast and meaty hash w/homemade BBQ. We got some.

The hash was incredible. A true honor to eat...half of it. Because it's so freakin' much food. But wow, that BBQ sauce was killer, and I even thought about asking them to leave it off, for fear of unknown territory.

 

Nick got the Pico (essentially a mexican omelette, how anti-American) and somehow it had too much roasted red pepper. Looks pretty, though, eh?

 

If you've got stable blood-sugar, they have a drunken banana french toast that is on the regular menu that I highly recommend.
 

Across the way, worst name for a store, ever. But, dang, if you're in search of a killer antique broach, a flashy pleather bag and an uber decent meal amongst the adorbs young fams of North Johnson, grab your stroller and your sudoku and post up.