Jammed Up

One of my favorite memories from growing up is the amazing breakfasts my dad would prepare on weekends and special occasions. Bacon and grits and pancakes, Oh My! Round eggs. Toast. Yummy biscuits. With jam.

Fast forward 20+ years later, and I still love me some breakfast. Unfortunately, The Boy doesn't do Kitchen, so if I want a comforting breakfast meal prepared for me, I've got to do what the rest of the New Yorkers do, and head out for brunch.

The West Side Beauty and I usually head down to Soho on Saturday mornings for a little Physique 57 action and post-workout celebrating at the neighborhood's vast array of restaurants.

I love the ritual of determining our location each week and the wonder of checking out a new menu and all the possibilities it represents foodwise. We've checked out Balthazar, The Cupping Room, Hundred Acres, Country Cafe, Jane, etc.

We've drooled over the $16 bread basket at Balthazar (though never purchased it), we've stared breathless at the southern inspired morsels from Hundred Acres. But one thing we've noticed almost across the board, is that jam and toast are often missing.

That's right, fellow feasters. We've been to locations that were "out of jam" (Country Cafe) or "only serve jam on Sundays" (Jane). Wha?

At the other locations, toast (or the infamous Balthazar Bread Basket) are extra. They don't come with the meal. Really?

Now seriously, New York is supposed to be the center of civilized living. That means I'm paying $15 to $20 for eggs and breakfast meats. So I gotta tell you. There ain't nothing civilized about a breakfast without toast and jam (or biscuits and jam or croissants and jam).

I think we need to band together to make things right. Let's protest! Save the Jam! Support the Toast! Your breakfast will thank you.