There was a faint hint of winter sunshine peeking through the slits of the blinds.
I rolled over and realized it was time for brunch. The man snuggled up beside me insisted 11 a.m. was more lunch than brunch, but little did he know, Downtown Grill and Brewery doesn’t open any earlier on Sundays. I groggily climbed out of bed, pulled on a pair of pants and headed to Gay Street.
We made the right decision to arrive when we did; plenty of tables remained open, and the restaurant seemed to be waiting patiently for the rush hour when it would be full to capacity. Our server greeted us with a joke that went something like “Ah, just a ladies brunch. Left the guys at home?”
We laughed, thinking about our respective boy-problems. But not for long because we were soon thinking about the drink specials. DGB’s list is lengthy and includes Bloody Marys, Build-Your-Own Mimosas and cheap liquor specials. Despite our light heads, we asked for 25 cent mimosas unashamedly.
When we turned our attention to the menu, the huevos rancheros called my name, so I quickly decided on that. Claire’s preference resembled my savory choice, so she picked the Southwestern Omelette. Liv and Cortney obliged their sweet teeth and went with the french toast; Liv opted for the strawberry mousse, Cortney stuck with the traditional. Moments later, the flutes of fizzy goodness arrived.
We clinked our glasses of champagne and orange juice and launched into stories of our Valentine’s Day shenanigans. Cortney and her roommate had made little baggies of candy they attempted to hand it out in Market Square. Apparently, strangers are skeptical of pretty ladies sharing candy. Someone speculated there was poison in the bags. After unexpected rejection, they spent the rest of their evening enjoying drinks in the city, which is where Claire met them after her internship ended at 11:30 p.m.
Liv, despite her vintage elegance aura, enjoyed a night at an Ice Bears’ hockey game amongst a rowdy crowd with her “gentleman caller.” She picked at her drinking-age wristband while we waited for food. “I hate these stupid things,” Liv said with a frustrated yank of the unbelievably sticky paper. It came free as our food arrived.
The fluffy pink clouds that topped Liv’s french toast were fresh and light, contrasting the typical density of the bread. Claire scarfed down her omelette, so I’m assuming it met her expectations. My huevos rancheros came paired with cheesy grits and greasy breakfast potatoes. The spicy food was satisfying, but couldn’t compete with other brunches I’ve enjoyed in this Scruffy City.
After our first round of drinks, we ordered the make-your-own mimosa and split it four ways. Two more mimosas for $2.75. Perfect.
DGB doesn’t try to impress you with the cuisine, but you get to drink three mimosas for $3.
Brunch club isn’t always about the food. Sometimes it’s simply about gabbing with your lady friends while the guys are at home.
