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| - Brunch. Let's talk about it. Lets talk about Metro diner.
I pull right up to the front of the building. I say building, but it's really the edge of one of the buildings in the Matthews festival shopping center. The one opposite the Harris teeter. I digress.
There are a few families milling about outside of the entrance. Judging by the jam packed outdoor seating area, they must be waiting for tables. Any place that has a wait at 10:15 on a Sunday , let's just say that's a good sign. However I also don't see a single person in the outside seating area or among the about millers that looks like me.
Some of my people abide by the rule that if you don't see us at a restaurant, then the restaurant must not be all that good. I don't agree with that per se, but I distinctly remember thinking, "hmm. I might be the lone brother in here." I took a moment to prep myself for that possibility.
My worries were immediately abated when, upon entry, I was greeted by 2 bright eyed young ladies, one of whom looked like me, and was invited to seat myself at the bar next to another lady who looked like me.
If you've never eaten at the bar in a diner, what is your life? There are few More interesting and enjoyable foodie experiences than watching 15 people operate a short order kitchen during a heavy food time. You've got 8-10 short order cooks, limbs and pans flying away. 2 kitchen managers are yelling out orders in that secret diner code. You order a Benedict Florentine? No my brother, that's a Vinnie. You've got a floor manager somehow keeping every order straight and calling out for runners, and these runners! They appear seemingly from the aether ready to get that Vinnie to your table, along with about 17 other orders, somehow not dropping a single plate.
It's like watching that hallway scene from Daredevil season 1, except you get waffles instead of adrenaline.
Everyone there was super friendly even amidst all the chaos of the brunch rush. I, being me, bugged the floor manager About different delectables as they would come out. I learned about corned beef and potato hash. I learned about strawberry butter (STRAWBERRY BUTTER!). Then something glorious happened.
I saw my order as it came out.
I have to tell you about the eggs. They have mastered the art of short order eggs. First, the scrambled eggs were dreamsicle yellow. They looked fluffy and creamy, the way I've only seen the Gordon Ramsay's of the world get them to come out. The omelettes (I got one) (more on that later) were like little pockets of sunshine. So yellow, with just the faintest hint of Brown when you get up close to them. The closest thing to it was the omelette I saw Jacque Pepin make on his tv show about 15 years back.
Ok. So lets talk about my omelette. It came out wrong. I ordered an American omelette with added asparagus (you can get asparagus in an omelette, and that's what life is supposed to be). The American is thinly sliced ribeye, mushrooms, onions and cheese. I got 1/3 of the way through my omelette, when I got the oddest notion.
You see this was one of the 2 or 3 best omelettes I've ever eaten. In all of life. It's easily the best from a technique stand point. The omelette was solid on the outside (remember the whole vaguest suggestion of brown thing?) But the center. It was like custard and souflee had formed a holy union in the middle of this omelette, and I was the only one invited to the reception. It's a testament to how good of an omelette they make that it took me a third of one too realize: my steak omelette was missing the steak.
I asked about it, hoping to get some steak on the side, so I could finish the omelette as God intended. NOPE. What wound up happening was so much cooler.
First the shift manager, or GM - a young brother with a headset and veto powers (more on that later) - came up and had a short convo with me about how an American is supposed to be. "Steak is supposed to be falling out the side of the omelette from the first bite!" He said, or something to that effect. He then orders me up another American with added asparagus "on the fly". Cool right? I get to have the full American experience plus, I still have my fruit and bacon, which was now Former bacon. I ate all the bacon is what I'm saying.
I wait with my fruit cup, munching away on strawberries, continuing to marvel at the efficiency of the kitchen staff/ floor staff synergy. Another miracle happens.
I get not only the full American, steak literally falling out the sides, but my FULL FRICKIN ORDER again! Double fruit. Double bacon.
Now the veto powers. I get the first order comped. SOP, right? GM sees my check, picks it up, and puts down another check. I look at it. Other than my coffee, he comps the entire meal. That's service above and beyond the call of duty.
Oh, yeah: I recommend and will be back in 2 weeks for those waffles.
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