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