Friday, July 29, 2011
Oh Goody Goody! Chili For Breakfast!
Goody Goody Diner
5900 Natural Bridge Ave.
St. Louis, MO
Nothing awakens the senses like that first early morning meal of the day.
The rising sun streaming through the kitchen blinds.
The sound of birds chirping hello to a new day through the open window.
The scent of fresh ground coffee brewing.
The sight of lingerie-clad Scarlett Johansson delivering a cast iron skillet full of biscuits and sausage to my bedside.
A gigantic overflowing omelet of potatoes, onions, green and red peppers smothered in a half gallon of chili and melted cheese.
Did that chili thing just disrupt your idyllic dream breakfast scene?
If so, you are reading the wrong blog.
Nothing says “good morning” in the city of St. Louis like a flowing river of bean and meat infused chili ladled on top of an over-stuffed omelet.
In most parts of this city, such a hearty early morning delicacy is called “a slinger.”
Here at the venerable Goody, Goody Diner, they call it “The Wilbur”.
But no matter what you call it, no trip to St. Louis is complete without devouring at least one chili smothered omelet.
As if this over-sized plate full of protein, carbs and chili wasn’t enough, my Wilbur came with the largest biscuit and bowl of grits you’ll ever see.
Huge, fluffy and soft as a baby’s bottom, this was steamy biscuit perfection.
The giant bowl of grits was first class all the way too. None of that runny crap you get at the chain restaurants. This was thick, rib-sticking hominy that came up in big clumps with every forkful.
Following my “too much is never enough” Suit757 philosophy, I made the quick determination that all this still wasn’t enough food for me.
So I ordered three pork sausage patties on the side. You can never have too much meat, right?
It was a good choice. Well seasoned and soft and crumbly, this was four star home-made sausage – and a perfect compliment to my chili-ladened mound of eggs, cheese, peppers, onions and potatoes.
You can tell right away the Goody, Goody Diner knows what they are doing. First of all, they’ve been around since 1948.
And the place was packed – at the distinctly unpeak hour of 10:45am on a Wednesday.
Friendly service by waitresses who seem to know every customer in the place – except for me that is – make even an out-of-town suit feel welcome. Even if I was the only white guy in the place.
A stool at the lunch counter was the perfect perch to watch all that goodness stream out of the kitchen – and eavesdrop on local gossip. Like whose daughter is working at the local strip joint and what kind of season the Cardinals are going to have this year.
Always in a hurry, I scarfed down a week’s worth of calories in 20 minutes and made my mad dash for the airport.
Such is life on the road. No chirping birds or scantily clad blond bombshells delivering breakfast in bed for me.
But sometimes a giant mound of chili, cheese and eggs at the counter of a Mid-Western culinary landmark will do just fine.
Rating: Bought the Shirt!