Stoodie
1 review
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July 08, 2009
Breakfast with Judas and Tiger Lily
I admit that I am fan of anything kitsch. If it can be bought in a small town antique store, or found in a neighbor's yard with a sign attached reading 'free', chances are you will find it hanging on my wall. That being said, when I walked into the squeaky door of the Seward Community Cafe located in Minneapolis' Seward neighborhood, I walked into a place that felt warm and comforting--a place that felt like home.
I should clarify that I grew up in the suburbs; and when I say 'the suburbs', I mean I grew up eating at Perkins and Denny's. Now, there is nothing wrong with eating a hearty breakfast from these establishments, but never did I really grasp why a neighborhood breakfast joint is so special. Since moving to the cities, I have come to realize why places like the Seward Cafe exist: they are there to take care of you. And that's exactly how I felt when I ate at the Seward: taken care of.
The Ambience
Walking into the cafe, one is blasted with the scent of local ingredients and punk rock music; dim lighting adorns each wilted plant that hangs from the ceiling and oddly-familiar junk rests upon the walls. The ordering process is a bit confusing, but the instructions are made clear near the menus at the counter. As I filled a small sheet of paper with my order, a regular of the cafe gave me some advice. The bearded old man, filling out a card of his own, said to me, "Now, you never give your real name here. It's kind of a game; the chefs love to call out funny names when your order is up." So, following his advice, I signed my name 'Judas' and my friend finished her order by naming herself 'Tiger Lily'.
After giving my slip of paper to inked and pierced art student behind the counter, I slowly made my way to the patio to wait patiently for my meal. Passing local artwork and some of the ugliest--yet most charming--wall-hangings that I have ever seen, I took a seat behind the restaurant on the outdoor dining area. Perhaps it was because the sun was particularly well behaved as it graced my table and highlighted the community garden visible from the porch, but I was half expecting my mother to emerge from the cafe with a pitcher of lemonade and a smile. I felt content here, as if the smiles I received from my fellow patrons were truly genuine--even if I clearly did not blend in as I had on a pair of pants which were not ripped in the slightest.
The Meal
Before I could get too warm and fuzzy, my pseudonym was called from the loudspeaker and I walked to the counter to sang my order. Before I could get my hungry hands on my meal though, a chef from the counter asked, "D'ya want sprouts?" Not denying myself the full experience, I agreed and my eggs were covered in a handful of stringy greens. As my friend waited for her order, I kept glancing at my watch. Maybe it was becasue I was especially hungry, but the wait did feel a bit long. As I opened my mouth to complain though, her made-up name escaped the loudspeaker and she soon sat down with a plateful of organic food.
Sitting in front of me was an impressive, organic 3-egg omelette (called the 'Northeaster'; walnut pesto, tomato & scallions) covered in sprouts with a side of house-made granola soaked in soy milk. My friend, upon someone's recommendation, feasted on a concoction called the 'Super Red Green Earth Breakfast' (hashbrowns, organic eggs and onions scrambled together and topped with broccoli & rancheros sauce).
Considering the price, both myself and Tiger Lily were blown away at how much food was on our plates. My omelette was flipped quite nicely, although it could have stood in the pan for a few more seconds. Tiger Lily dug into her Super Red Green Earth and she commented how many tastes danced in her mouth at once. Despite her colorful description, she didn't seem to pleased with this notion, though; she also commented that the dish felt a bit convoluted with conflicting temperatures and tastes. Overall, I was very satisfied with my omelette; sure, the sprouts were a bit much but I suppose they were optional. On the other hand, my granola was top-notch. I'm usually against paying for cold cereal, but this was clearly an exception.
The Service
After Tiger Lily and I were done eating, we had to bus our own dishes and clean up after ourselves. As described above. I like to think that this lends the cafe with a more at-home style of dining; even if that were the case though, the staff seemed somewhat disinterested in us customers. Granted, the crowded cafe was being run by less than a handful of workers, but it would have been nice to have received a smile with our orders. To their credit, it was clear that these tattooed chefs worked their little, pierced butts off, so I threw a few bucks into the tip jar.
The Verdict
The Seward Community Cafe is everything you would come to expect from a home-cooked meal. Yes, included in the fine print of that description is do-it-yourself style service and some tacky surroundings; however, the generous portions of all-natural food more than make up for the confusing ordering process. As I left the cafe, I found the outside world to be somewhat colder than before. I look forward to the day when I can return as another pseudonymous eater and chow down on a big ol' green meal next to the out of tune piano.
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