Breakfast was always the highlight of my soap opera-fueled days as a kid. My grandmother and granddad would whip up fluffy scrambled eggs, homemade biscuits (with mountains of molasses and butter), sausage and black pepper gravy, juicy sliced tomatoes, vats of greasy bacon, creamed style corn, fried potatoes with onion and fresh orange juice every single day of the week. The smells penetrating through our house at 6 a.m. were enough to make me bellow out of bed and race to the kitchen, wide-eyed and bushytailed, ready to crack an egg or pour some juice (really, just to eat some raw potato with a shake of salt).
These days, I usually delight in a bit of crunchy granola with Greek yogurt (Fage is king) and fresh berries or nice bowl of steel cut oatmeal with brown sugar (the version at Victory's Banner rocks) and I can't even imagine stuffing down that sort of monstrosity of a meal at 8 a.m. Well I guess I could. Actually, I guess I do pretty often. But in the city I've found that breakfasts are more roadside dinery or upscale stacked than plain ol', damn good Southern comfort food.
Leave it to a bar to change that and bring me straight back to my roots. The Four Moon Tavern (long known as an actors' after-hours hangout) is the perfect neighborhood bar, complete with a super-cute outdoor patio, candlelit bar tables, a pool table, a great jukebox and a breezy vibe that's cozy and intimate. All that plus they have some awesome handcut French fries with homemade ranch and let's face facts, that's all you really need in a bar. (I could do an entire book on my quest for the best homemade ranch).
Back to breakfast, though. Who knew a dark bar would be dishing up the yellowiest, fluffiest, cream cheese-filled scrambled eggs I've had since the South (Four Moon Scramble $7.50)? And who'd have thought it would come up with perfectly chopped little potatoes with a sprinkle of rosemary and thick English muffins covered in melting butter to go along side the pile of eggs? For a bar, that's the big time.
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