Atlas Eats

“To be fashionable nowadays we must ‘brunch'” – a damn genius, 1896

“Brunch is cheerful, sociable and inciting. It is talk-compelling.
It puts you in a good temper, it makes you satisfied with yourself and your fellow beings,
it sweeps away the worries and cobwebs of the week.”

Sometimes things just work out, on a weekend, where two fellows have a spot of free time in the late morn of a weekend day (i.e., Saturday late morn or Sunday late morn). Sometimes, this late morn meal is preferred, because of Friday or Saturday late-night-carousing, as things may be.

Also, there are breakfast and brunch locales a-plenty in the Rochester area that do not, I repeat do not, serve patrons on early weekday mornings, as is the yooshz of the Xonuts crew.

Atlas Eats is a house of fine repute. Everyone who you talk to, who has been there, goes, “Yum! I’m jealous!” Everyone who you talk to, who has not been there, goes, “I’ve never been, but I’ve heard good things!” Now you, too, have heard good things. Or, you will. Keep reading!

We arrived. We waited (waiting, for at least a small spot of time, is the yooshz). We got a cute table in a cute alcove.

There was coffee of the regular variety and coffee of the cold brewed variety. The cold brew is made mit milk from Pittsford Farms Dairy and avec turbinado. Dave ordered the former; Bo ordered the latter.

The cold brew coffee was delectable! Bo had to be careful not to drink it too fast, it went down so easy. The turbinado made it sweet, but not overly so. This being the first weekend of September, the pumpkin-flavored things already abound, and over-sweetening is the vogue. The Atlas cold press is not guilty of that but, like Young Goodman Brown, perseveres in its righteous path whilst the grave and dark-clad company of over-sweetened drinks proceed along yfele.

Bo ordered the egg and bacon on cheddar biscuit. Dave ordered the ranchero roll. But both lamented the lack of sweet in the items they had chosen. The ever-helpful waitress suggested a blueberry scone (yes, ma’am!) and a Russian brioche roll, with almond paste (yes, ma’am, ma’am!). The Russian roll, we were warned, is a whole roll. They’ll cut off a few slices for us, but then we are expected to take the rest of the roll home for later consumption.

The scone and brioche roll arrived quickly.

The scone was at peak dryness before the uncanny valley of dryness. That is, most scones are too dry. This one was perched on the precipice: dry (it is a scone, after all), but also balanced out by the MOIST blueberries and frosting. Like its scone bretheren, this scone was mainly bread, with the topping only a hint. This was beginning to be a theme for this place: nothing was overly so.

Despite its attempts to meddle in our democratic system, the Russian brioche roll was the star of the show. The brunch show. We had three (3) slices set aside for us. As you can see, they were beginning to lose cohesion, but this was more like break-apart food anyway! The almond paste was an incredible hidden surprise, lurking in the nooks and crannies of the labyrinth of bread. This was the perfect sweet-item to balance the savory items to come.

“When nearer breakfast, it’s brunch. When nearer lunch, it’s blunch. Please don’t forget this.”

Bo’s egg on roll came with an unexpected salad. The salad was delightfully acidic without being overly so (see Young Goodman Brown reference to pumpkin and overly-sweet things, supra). The egg popped! Its goo running onto the plate and over Bo’s hand before he could get a good slo-mo video of the fulmination. Too bad. So sad. But, lo! The cheddar roll, on its own just a too-dry biscuit, serves as a tasty/absorbent mop for the liquid yolk! All in all, the breakfast sandwich was high-end, with high-end ingredients (see bacon photo and caption, supra).

The Ranchero is as good as it looks. The avacado rounds out the thick-sliced bacon, the egg, and the cripsy bread underneath. As Dave is not a fan of spice/seasoning/fun, the tomato salsa went uneaten (a better man would have gobbled it down). Savory penetrates every morsel of the Ranchero.

You order at your table but you pay at the counter.