I rolled over this past Sunday morning and as I attempted to open my crusty eyes, felt restrained by some unidentified material. Sitting up in the light of the late morning sun coming in through the window I realized I was still wearing the floor-length summer dress I had worn the night before. And that I was in Andy’s bed. And that the slow pulsing in my head was ever growing in intensity. After a moment of thought and five or six Advils I remembered that I had washed my sheets last night and was not up to the task of wrapping them back around my mattress as I stumbled wasted through the door at 2 A.M. At least I was smart enough not to drive home.
I sleepily turned to Andy and began whining about the quickly increasing hunger pains growing in my stomach. Looking at the clock it was clear that brunch would have to wait. It was only 11:15 and the God-fearing state of North Carolina does not allow the sale of booze before noon on the Lord’s day. Seeing as I am an agnostic and an alcoholic, this certain piece of legislation tends to inconvenience me quite frequently.
Andy and I chatted in bed for a bit, recounting tales from the previous evening and griping about our respective hangovers. As the clock approached the hour of mimosa I texted our friend Kristen, who was meeting us for brunch, and Andy and I managed to drag our tired bodies out of bed. As Andy threw on a pair of shorts and a polo I looked down at my dress and announced defiantly that I did not intend on changing for brunch. Andy, without issue, finished getting dressed and like every other Sunday we left the apartment unshowered and headed to the Pewter Rose.
Our timing was perfect and Kristen pulled into the parking lot just as we were walking towards the restaurant. We walked up the stairs past the empty nightclub, Tutto Mundo and came upon a line of elegant tables draped in floral table cloths. Still a bit drunk from the night before, our raucous approach to the restaurant was met with an inexplicable silence. Each and every table outside was full, yet not a sound came from the brunching patrons. Walking by the closemouthed tables we saw a couple literally whispering their brunch conversation to one another. Very odd. Though this past Sunday was the most perfect day I have seen this summer, the wait for a table in the warm sunny air lacking Charlotte’s signature humidity was thirty minutes, and we opted to sit inside and eat sooner rather than later.
Walking into the restaurant for the first time, the atmosphere was quite charming with a collection of colorful glass vases over the bar and large fake trees with those little white lights strung through them scattered around the main dining area.
Upon further investigation we all decided that they may have overdone the fake plants juuuuust a bit. The service appeared promising at first and shortly after being seated, our waitress, Ashley, came by to take our drink order. Now this was something on which I did not need time to decide. The menu offered a single mimosa for $4 and a double for $7.50. I don’t believe I even need to tell you which one I chose. Kristen and Andy both got Bloody Marys, we all ordered coffee and water and Ashley walked away with promises of warm scones lingering at the table.
Not but a few minutes later our basket of warm scones and coffee arrived. In tall clear mugs that were never wont to be refreshed, the coffee was easily the highlight of the meal.After a long and arduous decision process over the many tempting menu items, I made a last minute decision for the Fingerling Frittata and exchanged the pungent stilton cheese for a more mild selection. Blue cheese just isn’t my thing. Andy went with the Oscar Benedict and Kristen, the Italian omelette with Italian sausage, basil pesto, fontina, roasted red peppers, and home fries. I will note that once again, the home fries were listed on the menu as hash browns. Seriously, Charlotte. Get your potatoes straight.
The conversation was running average as my mimosa and I banded together to fight my slowly waning hangover. Kristen and I caught up as we hadn’t seen each other in some time, but overall the brunch lacked the usual high-jinx to which Andy and I have grown accustomed since moving in together. I swear we get stranger and stranger by the day. In the midst of relatively slow conversation, I took out my camera to begin documenting the trip. After snapping a picture or two of the bar, I was left with only the image of a black and white screen instructing me to change the battery. Shocking, I know, that in my hungover state I didn’t think to check the battery. I gave up and decided a few camera phone pictures would have to do.
Not but a few minutes later, the food arrived. A bit shocked at the quickness with which the plates made it to the table, we excitedly dug in. My frittata, covered in bacon and stuffed with fingerling potatoes was delicious, but come on, how do you really fuck up bacon, potatoes, egg, and cheese?Kristen’s Italian Omelette was by far the most delicious thing we ordered, and poor Andy was stuck with the least appetizing of the three entrees. His eggs were clearly overcooked, the crabcakes soggy, undercooked, and floppy, and the English muffin arrived untoasted. Especially disappointing was the fact that this Oscar Benedict was the most expensive option on the menu at $15. The one saving grace was the coffee, which, rich, dark, and bottomless, turned Andy’s breakfast into a liquid one, albeit of the non-alcoholic variety. Hey, to each his own. Both Andy and Kristen agreed that the Bloody Marys were nothing to write home about. My mimosa was delicious, but much like bacon and cheese, it’s hard to fuck up champagne and orange juice.
As our separate bills arrived, I swallowed the last of my second double mimosa in two great swigs and opened my bill. With a 20% tip for service that wasn’t exactly bad, but more unnoticeable, my tab alone came to $40. Andy and Kristen likely ran below that as my $15 mimosas certainly contributed, but the real bottom line here is that this place was not worth the money. My sincerest apologies for what I believe to be a rather boring review, but it is only indicative of the brunch itself. Hopefully next week will have a little more flavor. Till then, happy brunching.