How’s it going?
So, you know, it’s November, and I’m only a third of the way through my goal of trying 12 new restaurants and blogging about it. Well, the blogging part anyway. I think I’ve far exceeded the 12 new restaurants portion of this goal. Far exceeded. I just…usually don’t have my camera on me. Or…errmm….am too busy stuffing food in my face to pull out my phone and take a picture.
But Lo! A couple of weeks ago, before Swede and I headed out for a day of hiking at Starved Rock, we paid a visit to my Absolute. Favorite. Breakfast Spot. and loaded up on all sorts of protein (re: sausage patties) and good carbs (re: hashbrowns) before heading out for a hike (re: wandering through the woods thank God there was a path or I’d be lost). And THAT, my Interwebbing friends, is not a designation I hand out lightly.
I already sang the praises of the Publican as an enormously delicious brunch spot. And if you’re going upscale, I fully stand by my assessment. But if you just want an omelet the size of your head? Or some over-medium eggs? Or a skillet packed with hashbrowns? Hands down, if you’re in the Northwest Indiana area, I’m going to tell you to hit up The Scrambled.
Swede and I first dined here in the early part of this year. Actually, the very firs time we went, we walked in only to walk out a few minutes later due to a lengthy wait time and the onset of hangry emotions. But the next time we stopped in…
My breakfast heart was claimed.
Restaurant #4 of 12: The Scrambled
The food. I’ve never had a bad meal there. My favorite is the “healthier skillet” (pictured above), packed with sautéed spinach, mushrooms, and tomatoes, and eggs your way on top. All resting lovingly on a bed of vermicelli-thin hashbrowns that are crisp on the outside and soft—but not mushy—on the inside. Their omelets, as mentioned, are large and very much in charge of the plate, and could easily be split between two hearty eaters. Their ketchup, jams, and butters are homemade. Their sausage patties are homemade. Are you picking up what I’m laying down here?
The prices. Swede and I sometimes have to kick ourselves when we remember that this is Northwest Indiana, not DC or Chicago proper, and thus, yes, things are less expensive out this way. And that is magical. So much fresh food! For not so much tons of monies! It’s how breakfast is meant to be.
The space. The Scrambled is not a big place. At all. And I like that about it. I don’t want it to get bigger. If you have to get bigger, just open a second location somewhere else, because I like the smaller feel for brekkie spots, even if it does mean an often lengthy wait time, particularly on the weekends. But the small interior is sunny and open, with windows running almost the full length of two walls. Pictures of babies and small children line the walls, and I have no idea why. Maybe they are the owners’ children? Nieces? Nephews? I don’t much care, frankly, as I’m way too busy looking at my food and trying to engineer ways I can shovel it in my mouth faster.
Waiting. I love everything about it about this place, except that you typically will have to wait for a table, which will suck if you’re quite hungry. But you know what? The wait is worth it, and they give you free coffee while you wait, which makes Swede happy.
That one waitress. It was only the one gal, but she totally reprimanded Swede for not finishing his huge breakfast and not taking a to-go container for it, and told him he was wasting food. And that’s just uncalled for. (Thankfully I was not there for this episode, and thankfully it has never happened again, and we’ve had splendid waitstaff, because I would not have taken kindly to such a comment DON’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO WITH MY FOOD LADY.) (Sorry. The waitress within still gets quite riled up at the mere hint of poor customer service. What a customer does or does not want to do with his or her leftovers is none of your damn business. Now let’s go back to the server station and pour ourselves our thoumillionth Diet Coke of the morning.)
On a scale of 1 to Go? Grab the Sunday paper and your eating pants and let’s go.
Four down, eight more to go.