Downtown Pizza Luce ***3/5 stars

Late night sh*t show vs. brunch oasis, the Downtown Pizza Luce has been sobering people up since 1993. And they do a pretty mean brunch. 

You find a better scenerio around 10am than you do around 2am. The space is open and comfortable when the afterbar crowd isn't raging from too many strobe lights and Bacardi cokes.

 

The bloody mary bar is pretty dece. Three mixes, lots of condiments and a nice bowl of fresh horseradish. Vodka's holding its own here... Still trying to decide if that woman's pants are holding their own...

The menu has a lot of fun stuff. Lots of benny's (the pesto hollandaise is a fave) and veggie/vegan options.

Here's that pesto/sausage benny...

And here's the cajun hash...

Everything is starting to look yellow.

And the veggie skillet. Cha cha cha. This one gets a fancy doily. Wooooo.

http://lookatthisfuckinghipster.tumblr.com/

And this one.

 

Special problems.

Vegas delerium.

Too happy.

Trench coat mafia.

Hey, buddy, go slam some Luce brunch before your next tat/piercing appt., or whatever. It's the right thing to do.

Lyndale Taphouse ***3/5 stars

Okay, so. The Lyndale Taphouse is rather infamous for being a bit of a, how do I say this tenderly, Doucheville. Sadly, the thought of having to endure the clientele keeps us from coming around here too often. However, brunch is usually safe, and this morning we were on our way to Vegas, land of all things enhanced and bedazzled. I really couldn't think of a more perfect location to sword the cork off the bottle and bid ourselves bon voyage.

The menu here is pretty substantial. Some classics, some international flair, but almost all of the dishes are infused with the house-cooked, slow-roasted meats. 

There's a big bar, with a full liquor license. Score. Dimly lit for those who want to get wasted and play hook-up at 11am. Or for those of us who were particularily groggy from over-soaking in a hot tub while drinking local whisky*. 

 

I actually really dig the atmosphere here. It's like being in a farm kitchen. A modernized, kinda slutty farm kitchen. With these great photo portraits of female farm workers...

Hey y'all, I'm gonna wrangle ya up some breakfast sausage...

So, guess what. The food here is really awesome. Really. Like, best breakfast burrito I've ever had in my life. I've tried other dishes that rocked, like the eggs benny and the cider french toast, but today we were all on the burrito train. AND brunch comes with a complimentary mimosa. Taphouse, you're a man in a satin shirt after my own heart.

As the bros would say, this joint is totally dece. Parking is a little sketch, but the lot in back is $1/hr. It's got plenty of room inside for your posse. If you enter after 5pm, remember to use extra hair gel and get ready for some Jager-bombed bro to puke on your shoes and then punch you in the face* for being in the way. Hey, at least you'll have a good story for your Facebook...

*Dramatization for effect. No one has ever puked on or punched me at Lyndale Taphouse. I could just see it happening...

*Don't let the guy at the liquor store con you into buying local-made Minnesota whisky. I hope I don't have to explain to you why this is a bad idea. Bros, go ahead. Puke and punch away.

Grumpy's Downtown ***2.5/5 stars

I was not particularly excited for brunch this morning. I had expected the bar would smell like bleach and that stank of sour beer that you just can't wash out of a place with so much history. I was afraid that the smell might interfere with my ability to swallow some greasy, deep-fried bar breakfast. Hey, I'm not knocking dive bar breakfast, but you definitely have to be in the mood for it. I wasn't. But my friend Matt was waiting for me to review his favorite neighborhood haunt. And I am a man of my word.

We enter through the back, and before I know what's happened, I've been wrapped in a dark, warm, blanket surrounded by neon signs and a shrine of liquor bottles. No olfactory offense. All my reservations fade away. I am home.

First things first. Bloody marys. Patty makes the bomb bloody mary. Spicy, salty, sour...save your life kind of stuff. He uses brine from his very own pickled bean recipe. NOTE - They don't serve these at NE Grumpy's. Downtown only.

 

This menu is really not f-ing around. Hungry, burly men (and women) come here to get down. Specifically to get down six pancakes, six sausages and 6oz. of maple syrup if you order the #666. I modified it to a #333. The menu is otherwise pretty heavily influenced by the southwest and mexico. Breakfast Nachos being one of the items that gave me a good chuckle, as well as the Breakfast Skins - yup it's potato skins with eggs in them. Come on, this is soooo what I expected from this place!

Professionally lit by DP's Flashlight Ap

I feel like I've let down the proud women that came before me and conqured this full meal. But it's damn tasty. The pancakes were a little under-done in spots, but who the hell cares? Not me. I've moved on to the champagne of beers and orange juice. Ladies and gentle men: the beermosa.

The Chilango, which we lovingly refer to as Chilango Unchained, is chorizo, eggs, peppers and all that jazz. "Straight out of Mexico City. Kind of." You can get it veggie style with some really great faux sausage. Grumpy actually accommodates meatless meals. Impressive.

This gut bomb is the Carnivore's burrito. "Stuffed with meat, meat and more meat, tots, eggs and cheese. We'll even put some grapes on the plate." 
Well, shit!

Professionally lit by Matt Sharma's Flashlight Ap

And, of course, the Breakfast Quesadilla. A denver omelett served in a tortilla. So brill.

I can't believe it. I never thought in a million years that this grungy, mpls downtown staple with no more than adequate bar food could win my brunch love. Thanks to Patty the bartender, Al, DP, and B for providing sweet company. And thanks, especially, to "Metal" Matt Sharma for proving that Grumpy's is my happy place.

Cafeteria (and support group) **2/5 stars

Is Uptown cool anymore? Some of you might be scoffing at the fact that I even asked that question. Okay, so my over-30, inner-city-dwelling self just can't identify with the Uptown scene these days. I mean, the Calhoun Square sector, specifically. The fact of the matter is, Figlio's gone, the Uptown bar is gone, Sushi Tango switched sides and nothing makes sense anymore. The heart of Uptown has been over-ridden with suburban tourists and kids who think Jagermeister is a fine liquor.

D-Bag T-shirt in Cooper Black

Now let's talk about what we came here to talk about. Poised in the middle of what I lovingly refer to as D-Bag central, sits Cafeteria. A sort of plasticy/mod diner, kinda Jetsons futuristic, but all in all a very confusing theme. Can I say I was somewhat disappointed that this place is actually nothing like a cafeteria. You don't order from a line, you don't eat off of plastic plates, and the lunch lady doesn't give you the evil eye stare-down from behind the counter. And what the crap does "support group" mean? I really don't want to feel like I'm going to an AA meeting the morning after, when I should probably be going to an AA meeting.

The plates on the wall are pretty cool. But they do give me bad flashbacks to the High School cafeteria...and the many ways you can re-use and re-combine hot dogs, ground beef and tater tots to make "new" meals.

 

So the menu isn't bad. Pretty standard breakfast and lunch items. I don't see "Italian Dunkers" or "Mr. Rib on bun".

Mrs. Butterworth's says, "Stop staring at the manly cheerleader on the menu. She's taken."

 Probably the best thing about this place is the bloody bar...

 

Hello darkness, my old friend.

 

Brunchetizer™ banana bread.  Second best thing about this place. Good thing we ordered it, too, because our food took an hour to arrive. We passed the time enduring a variety of light-rock classics. Hotel California before noon on a Sunday? Click, click, boom.

 

She barely got that bread down...buck up, Nicole! "Today's Tom Sawyer, he gets high on you..."

The food, when it finally arrived, thank jesus, did not taste like government-subsidized garbage. It was, however, less than warm, but we needed carbs to revive our spirit, so we dug in. 

This was called the hangover cure or something like that. If Trevor had as many "creative" after-midnight-Jennifer's birthday shots as I did, he needed this...

 

Jen, freak of nature that she is, gets up at 6 the morning after her birthday. So she went for the tuna melt on "homemade" cheddar biscuits. The tuna had a crap ton of mayo in it, which turned me off.

 

This is the Norwegian benedict with salmon and spinach. Pretty, but cold, like Megan Fox.

 

 

And the mexi breakfast, chilaquiles. I'd had this here another time and it was way better and way warmer. Shhhh. Don't tell anyone I've been here more than once...

 

I know I'm old and crabby, but I don't like cold breakfast or slow breakfast or breakfast in a place that confuses me. But we put on our best duck face and made the best of it. Maybe partying will help?

 

The Birchwood Cafe ***2.75/5 stars

Buried in the neighborhoods of east MPLS, the Birchwood draws a constant crowd. If you're like me, you dread foraging the depths of continuous stop signs and pedestrians as you travel east and come closer to the ever impending doom of St. Paul. But I have to admit, this side of town is pretty swell. With the river right there and everything...all those ambitious middle-aged folk on the trails, proudly wearing their spandex, working hard for their lattes and organic eggs. (The bike ride here from the mid-west is pretty awesome. Mostly greenway.)

So this is the inside. It's stand-in-line-and-order-from-a-board style. So, if the line isn't long enough, you might find yourself in panic, trying to figure out if the chalkboard artist had too much coffee that morning...and what the hell business tofu and pickled radish have inside a scramble. Okay, okay. They have printed menus and I do appreciate their inventive dishes, but if you're not okay with fish or tofu or sheep's milk, this might not be your best best for brunch.

Oh, but they do make things with sugar and cream cheese. This coffee cake Brunchitizer™ was killer. 

And they do have mimosas...cheers!

This is the basic scramble and potatoes. Nicki was totally bored with it. But she's afraid of organic things. And true love. (The potatoes had some good flavor.)

I got the quiche. Apple and blue cheese and some other junk. Not my fave, but satisfactory. xxoo salad for breakfast.

Here's that weirdo scramble with pickled radish and fennel and crap. My nerd boyfriend loved it. He's clearly on drugs...

Okay, so I've been kinda negativo, but really I do enjoy the Birchwood. The atmosphere is warm and inviting. The service was great, thanks to Rick for getting us settled. And I felt pretty healthy when I walked out the door. I do also respect the consciousness that the Birchwood inspires with their food. We should know and appreciate where it comes from.

Namaste.

Don't ask.