Oh brunch, that heavenly marriage between breakfast and lunch. The meal where burgers join eggs benedict at the table, where daytime drinking is encouraged, where sleeping in is rewarded with eggs well into the afternoon. With brunch in the city being an almost exclusive weekend affair, you’d be hard pressed to get your eggy fix during the week save but a few diners with all day breakfasts or the generic 20 page menu at the one brunch franchise. Serving up brunch 6 whole days a week, it’s just one more reason The Coastal Cafe is at the top of my list.
On the old blogspot, I repeatedly professed my love for the Coastal Cafe so there’s really no surprise it’s my brunch go to. But here’s the thing, it has counter service, the coffee is only ok (snob alert) and, with only about 25 seats and a lineup of folks learing at you as you finish your meal, the atmosphere may not be the best in the city. Back it up. You’re telling me the best brunch in the city doesn’t have great coffee, doesn’t have table service (though they do a combo of table/counter service so tip ’em well people), and doesn’t have amazing atmosphere? Hells yes I am. At Coastal, it’s all about the food.
I’m also happy to report that on our most recent visit, we finally tried something off the ‘not breakfast’ menu. We had no choice really. How could we resist this panko crusted behemoth of a pork burger. Obviously at Coastal, a pork burger isn’t any old pork burger. I’m talking maple tonkatsu sauce, sunomono, and pickled ginger aioli. God damn this was good. I may need to go back and get it before the menu changes. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll follow suit.
With influences from just about every ethnicity and inventive takes on waffles, scrambles, granola, French toast, salads, and other mind blowing dishes rounding out the seasonal menu, there’s literally is something for everyone. There’s even quite the selection of hot sauces and a wall of cat photos. No joke.
So, the next time you imbibe a little too much and are looking for the cure, forgo the greezy bacon n’ eggs, get in that line and put your belly in the hands of Chef Mark Giffin.
When nothing but empty plates go back to the kitchen, you know it’s legit. But what the hell’s that fruit doing on my plate.