Urban Eatery ***3/5 stars

Chances are, you've never even heard of this place. When my girl, Bernadette, suggested it for a ladies-only V-day brunch, I had to look it up. The first floor restaurant of the prestigious Mpls Beach Club changes hands on a regular basis. I'll save you my theories on this, but let's just chalk it up to location.

Topiary, yo.

We had to park in the garage as valet was closed on Sunday...WHAT? I always smirk when the parking attendant rolls away in my rusty Y2K Jeep. Park that one next to the beamer, Joe. They validate, but only up to like one hour. If you want to get into it with your girls, it's gonna take time.

Our table.

The space is bright and open. Nice lighting and wood accents. Cozy booths. Quotes. Lots of quotes. Okay: If you're gonna put a quote on the wall, make it like one really good thought-provoking one. Or at least weird enough that no one knows quite what it means. Or maybe...just don't put quotes on your walls. Chances are, you're not gonna pull it off.

The menu has some great variety. I'm pleasantly surprised. We, of course, had to grab a bottle of bubbles to start the day, Lamarca being one of my favorites. Knowing that most joints over-do the OJ to bubs ratio, we ordered a large OJ, on the side. But siphoning it into the drinks was not so easy. The server, not usually attentive, noticed our struggle and replaced the glass with a carafe. One point for her.

"The most dangerous thing to eat is a wedding cake." - said no one interesting

My Mimosa and Me

Brunchitzier™ was a giant blueberry lemon pancake mostly lacking in blueberries and lemon. But it soothed the "I'm single and this day is just a rude reminder, so I'm going to replace sex with carbs" cravings.

Here's the bloody. It's good.

You're getting a wide review of the menu selections today, starting with a most excellent Steak and Eggs on a crispy nest of hashbrowns. My poached eggs were on the side.

Mexican hash. The tiny skillet gets me every time.

Garden omelette for you gluten-free veg heads.

Breakfast sandwich with fondue cheese for the carb heads. Rarrr.

Nicki got the classic experimental "control". The potatoes were special cheesy loaded things.

So... the UE. It's totally dece for a 3-hour bitch fest. Service was meh. Food was better than okay. I bet the view is great on a summer day. If you play your cards right and go with the low-carb breakfast, maybe some silver fox will invite you up to the pool deck for a post-brunch lounge, after which he will fall madly in love with you. Then you can spend your V-day anniversary here, gazing sympathetically at the sad singles in the back booth man-bashing and drowing themselves in prosecco. You've come so far, baby.

The Sheridan Room **2.5/5 Stars

The Sheridan Room has big shoes to fill, occupying the old Modern in Northeast. It's all good. Where there was nothing, there is now something, something that also serves breakfast, and that's cool.

First scan of the bar area reveals an old receiver, turntable and vinyl collection. There is some evidence of life here.

But, aside from the warm, waxy bar, the ambiance leaves me feeling uneasy. The dining area is stark. Sterile. All hard lines and hard wood. Church pews and cold bathroom tile. Mirrors that creepily reflect the barren walls. I prefer to pray to the brunch gods on an altar where my ass doesn't fall asleep after one drink.

Nothin' sterile about these broads.

Suprise! Menu here is real basic. Say that with a drawl, like rulllll.... basic. Basic doesn't necessarily mean bad. I wish all the fancy ass cocktail bars I frequent would get back to basics and stop putting 18 ingredients into a glass with a square ice cube that takes up 85% of the space and charging $25 for it. People don't need myriad options. They need to stumble in with one eye open and half a functioning brain, see "basic breakfast",  grunt and bow their heads into a glass of cheap champagne and OJ rimmed with Pop Rocks. Yes, I said Pop Rocks.

That's real OJ, fool.

In all honesty the food here is totally decent. My salmon scramble was light and fresh and flavorful. Them greens, tho!

The basic was basic, but not laden with grease. I eat enough brunch that my arteries welcome a "cleaner" option.

And Kelly said the frittata was jammin'.

So, what up, Sheridan? Seems like you are tryin' a bit too hard to not try too hard. So you laid down a bunch of tile, walled up some booths and put a stack of records on the wall. I get it. I ain't mad at it. (© N. Paglia, 2016) Just put on some Floyd and pour me another.

That glass block, though.

Nighthawks **2.5/5 stars

Striaght up: Nighthawks is overrated. This is the story of how I came to loathe one of the most popular spots in my hood run by one of the most popular chefs in town. And then how I changed my mind. Kind of.

So, it's not the layout or decor that bums me out. It's a sunny diner with a wrap-around bar, big comfy booths and a diner-style bar facing the cooks. Be warned, this is not a place for parties of 6 or more. Pick your company wisely.

My view from my chair. Not the most glorious...

Nighthawks is a contemporary diner concept with creative diner-style dishes, already famous for their foot-long hot dogs and pancakes served all day. Sounds like my dream come true. But...

Sorry friends, you won't be getting a bloody mary here. The Michelada (aka bloody beer) is a sad watered-down replacement. The first time I ate here, I was on week three of sober October. Maybe I was feeling a little tense. Maybe a little rage-y. And the OJ was NOT cuttin' it. It's that thick, syrupy from-concentrate bullshit.

So my first run at breakfast was the classic: eggs, bacon, hashbrowns, toast, gas station OJ. Nicki says you can always judge a place by its classic. Simple, but amazingly easy to screw up. So it wasn't that they necessarily screwed this up, but it's just not what I expected from a modern diner. Old diners, or "greasy spoons" were just that. Food service truck staples drowned in grease on a flat top and flung at you by some old woman named Laverne who hasn't smiled in 30 years. Save for Laverne this is the greasiest breakfast that has ever been laid before me.

You wouldn't expect peanut butter chocolate chip pancakes to be light breakfast... But these were smothered in half a jar of peanut butter with whipped cream AND syrup. Goodbye skinny jeans. Hello insulin shock. I had previously tried the blueberry lemon cakes and I will say they are some of the better pancakes in town. But these suckers are too much.

So now I'm gonna turn to the redemption chapter of this tale. Surprise! It's a salad! Which almost makes up for the previous greasy, sugary mountain of shame. This salad has a lot of weird stuff, pickled radishes, peanuts, avocados... But survey says it's delicious.

The poutine. While this registers low on the health chart, wow is it good. That poblano gravy. Yow! Pulled pork is buried in there along with melted cheese curds. Good morning, heartburn.

I couldn't leave you without slapping you with this foot-long huevos rancheros dog. Guac, corn chips, fried egg, black beans. I'd rather have either a plain hot dog or huevos rancheros. This is just stupid.

Should I expect fresh OJ and lighter fare from a diner concept? Maybe not, but this is 2015 and we know a lot more about what good food should be. Call me a carb buzz kill, but I prefer more consciousness and less gluttony. Goodnight.

Burch ***3.5/5 stars

Welcome to Burch, former home of Burch Pharmacy and the mustache-inscribed face of infamous real estate tycoon, Cotty Lowry. Those were the days... But something good has moved in, something to sooth the pain in a different way. It's a place that takes brunch pretty damn seriously. Our kind o' people...

Burch is making great use of natural light. Those large holiday-themed window displays have opened up to a full view of the Hennepin side of Lowry Hill. Every time I see a view like this, I think of the first snowfall and being safe inside the loving arms of comfort food and boozy cocktails watching the cruelty of mother nature set in. Brace yourselves, it's coming...

 

Here's the morning medication line-up: A tomatillo bloody, a Blushing Mimosa with blood orange, and something called a Watermelon Wake-Up. The bloody is okay, but missing something. The mimosa is standard and the Watermelon with gin and mint tastes like the dregs of a cocktail... What was sold to me as a fresh eye-opener, tasted like... well... nothing.

Before you get too bummed out, their basic bloody is totally decent.

The food menu is exciting. Lots of options, both sweet and savory. We ordered the Financier for a Brunchitizer™, which are little pastries with jelly filling. Frency Jon was super excited to see if they stood up to his standards. He says they were "pretty good". I guess we'll consider that a win...

Another Brunchitizer, the Fried Taleggio Skins with Chimichurri, tasted like heaven, but the portion was ridiculous for $7. It's a super tease-y whisper of fried cheese.

And another... the potato cake wrapped in a paper packet, Micky D's style. Not sure why that's so impressive, but it tasted good.

The seasonal quiche was delightful.

"Oh, them biscuits." We had to order two of these house-made magical, flaky, buttery babies. And there's your basic omelette.

The minute I saw Eggs Cacio e Pepe with fried oysters I was sold. It's a real treasure. I wanted to chase it with some greens, but be warned, that "mixed green" salad is full of fucking frisee.

 

A beautifully-executed benny withe super crusty grilled bread:

Holy mother of god, it's crab toast with buerre blanc. I'm balling my fists and punching the air in aggressive excitement. C'mon. Seriously. Look at this shit:

We ate all of the food. Burch has PLENTY of space for big parties and is baby friendly, for you unfortunate souls who have babies... Go be annoying and indulge. Cheers from the Bad Eggs crew.