27. Poste Moderne Brasserie
When I started on my journey of 100 restaurants, I made a very detailed Excel spreadsheet with all the necessary information—location, price range, cuisine, if they are on Opentable, etc.—so I could sort by whatever I was in the mood for. (Insert nerd comments here. Go ahead, I’ll wait.) Well I also made a column for whether or not the restaurants offered brunch. Because I love brunch. In the brunch column for Poste I wrote “DUH” which stands for “duh”. I have lots of memories associated with Poste: I ate there on the worst date I’ve even been on, I threw an exceptionally awesome surprise party a year later, and one time I saw Matt Damon walk down the street outside the hotel. All those times were memorable for one reason or another, but I have wanted to try Poste for brunch ever since it opened. It seems like the perfect combination of swanky decor, sunny patio, creative cooking and free refills.
So brunch I did with my friend Kristi this weekend. I made reservations for 11:30 but decided to go over a bit early in hopes of securing a table on the patio. Since the weather had been pretty oppressive the past few days, and Sunday was the first humidity-lite day in a while, I thought it would be packed. Lo and behold the patio was practically empty. I had a lot of alone time waiting for Kristi, most of which was spent downloading functions on to my phone that I’m sure I will never use. She did eventually get there, and in the mean time I memorized the menu. Poste, you are some real smarty pants’. Most items on the menu are your basic brunch dishes, but gussied up with fancy bacon, caviar, homemade ingredients and advanced cooking techniques. It gave the illusion of haute cuisine with the comfort of brunch favorites. As much as I would like to think that I could be happy with some frou-frou quiche, I really just want eggs and bacon and lots of it.
We started off with the homemade donut holes, because really, we couldn’t think of a good reason not to. The flavors were chocolate, apple and (my favorite) lemon curd. The apple was really good too, though I thought the chocolate was a little dull tasting. We finished them though, not to worry. I went with the Croque Madame, which was by far the biggest breakfast sandwich I’ve ever seen. I was worried that it would be too bready (there was plenty of bread happening on the plate) but the prosciutto and cheese inside were potent enough to stand up to it. The traditional sunny-side-up egg was served on top. (A word to the wise about this: if you are adverse to undercooked eggs, make your feelings known when you order. I thought that the eggs on my dish and Kristi’s were cooked on the very light side, which is fine with me, but danger is my middle name. Not like motorcycle and skydiving danger, just salmonella danger.) Served with the sandwich was what can best be described at gravy, which though salty and wonderful was a little too much for a hot day on the patio. Poste’s trademark frites were served in a newspaper cone (today’s New York Times—cute touch alert!); though I was so filled up by my sandwich I could hardly eat them.
Kristi went with the Eggs Hussarde, which I almost chose. They ended up being eggs benedict with potato skins instead of English muffins. Kind of a weird combo, but I guess that really just boils down to potatoes and eggs, and what can be more traditional than that? Her meal was served with a little frisee salad, which was so salty that she couldn’t eat it. I think that’s for the better, because who wants to leave room for salad when there is an entire potato to be eaten.
Good news, folks: the brunch at Poste lived up to my expectations. Be forewarned that this is not a meal for the cheap-os in your life—it was thirty bucks per person by the time we counted coffee, tip and tax. However, you get a lot for your money—it was the only meal I ate all day since I spent most of the rest of the day laying on my living room floor in a bread-induced coma. Maybe the best part of eating on the patio was that we were downwind from the pig roasting away on a spit for that night’s Poste Roast. I will see you soon my little piggy.
