I was pleased to be seated in a cute, cozy little room with a sunny window…

… but, as it turns out, not that pleased.

Let me explain.

A couple of weeks ago, I took my daughter and my friend to Wolfgang’s for breakfast.  We stood outside in a long line for forty-five minutes (me on my gimpy foot) and waited.  And we didn’t mind, because the food is amazing.  The total bill for the three of us, including a generous tip, was $35.

Money well spent.

If you are ever on Wealthy Street in Grand Rapids, eat there.

The hub is away fishing today, so as a consolation prize, I took my daughter out to breakfast.  She enjoyed her eggs benedict and her pumpkin latte.  And that was good.

My pumpkin latte, when it finally arrived, arrived lukewarm.  My way-over-priced omelet was not at all special.  It wasn’t made with golden eggs.  The eggs weren’t even organic.  And it was NOWHERE NEAR as imaginative, balanced or flavorful as the $7 Dewey I had at Wolfgang’s.

And not to go on about it, but you would think a restaurant named Toast would have amazing toast.  It doesn’t.

I hate to be the kind of person who complains about prices, especially to my guest, but once outside the restaurant, I was.

“Mom, this is Birmingham.”

I understand snob appeal.  I understand paying extra for real estate.  But I don’t understand, and have not yet swallowed, being charged $44 for a prosaic omelet and a lukewarm latte.  No matter how cute and cozy the room.

So I’ve taken Toast off the breakfast table.