All American Café
1817 South Fern Creek Ave.
Orlando, FL
Suit757 is not a morning person.
And that’s damn inconvenient because at least a couple times per week my travel alarm goes off around 4am so that I can catch yet another early morning flight to some forgotten corner of fly-over country.
But other than the need to work for a living, there are two words that will get me stirring before high noon.
Sausage. Gravy.
By the time my plane touched down at the Orlando International Airport at 9:30am, I had already been up for nearly six hours.
The real problem with being a non-morning type person who has to get up at o-dark-thirty on a semi-regular basis is that no matter how early that alarm is set for, I just can’t seem to get myself into bed before midnight.
What I’m trying to say is, by the time I got my sorry butt to the All American Café on this Saturday morning, I was tired – and hungry.
All American’s sausage gravy was the cure for what was ailing me.
My waitress helpfully advised me to go for the half order.
Good call.
If this is the half order, it made me wonder what man (and his army) could consume a whole one? A giant dinner plate buried under a mound of pepper specked gravy. Somewhere under there were two halves of a biscuit.
I think. I could hardly find the plate, let alone the biscuit.
And you know what? I lapped up every last morsel.
This is some top notch sausage gravy. Hearty, thick and peppery, the creamy gravy was generously studded with big chunks of crumbled sausage. This is as good as biscuits and sausage gravy can get.
But you know what? Man can not live on sausage gravy alone.
That’s why I got a side order of sausage to go with my sausage gravy.
My links were juicy and crisp, but didn’t come close to overshadowing the star of my meal.
A dumpy little place on a live oak canopied street in a residential Orlando neighborhood, the All American Café is all about the food.
Atmosphere? Not so much. Unless you happen to have a special place in your heart for plastic chairs and tables on astro-turf.
Three or four tables inside. Four or five outside. That’s the extent of the dining options.
But when you are in the state of mind that only a gigantic plate of overflowing sausage gravy can cure, this is the place to come.
Just don’t ask me to meet you there before noon.
Rating: Seriously Thought About Buying Shirt.
1817 South Fern Creek Ave.
Orlando, FL
Suit757 is not a morning person.
And that’s damn inconvenient because at least a couple times per week my travel alarm goes off around 4am so that I can catch yet another early morning flight to some forgotten corner of fly-over country.
But other than the need to work for a living, there are two words that will get me stirring before high noon.
Sausage. Gravy.
By the time my plane touched down at the Orlando International Airport at 9:30am, I had already been up for nearly six hours.
The real problem with being a non-morning type person who has to get up at o-dark-thirty on a semi-regular basis is that no matter how early that alarm is set for, I just can’t seem to get myself into bed before midnight.
What I’m trying to say is, by the time I got my sorry butt to the All American Café on this Saturday morning, I was tired – and hungry.
All American’s sausage gravy was the cure for what was ailing me.
My waitress helpfully advised me to go for the half order.
Good call.
If this is the half order, it made me wonder what man (and his army) could consume a whole one? A giant dinner plate buried under a mound of pepper specked gravy. Somewhere under there were two halves of a biscuit.
I think. I could hardly find the plate, let alone the biscuit.
And you know what? I lapped up every last morsel.
This is some top notch sausage gravy. Hearty, thick and peppery, the creamy gravy was generously studded with big chunks of crumbled sausage. This is as good as biscuits and sausage gravy can get.
But you know what? Man can not live on sausage gravy alone.
That’s why I got a side order of sausage to go with my sausage gravy.
My links were juicy and crisp, but didn’t come close to overshadowing the star of my meal.
A dumpy little place on a live oak canopied street in a residential Orlando neighborhood, the All American Café is all about the food.
Atmosphere? Not so much. Unless you happen to have a special place in your heart for plastic chairs and tables on astro-turf.
Three or four tables inside. Four or five outside. That’s the extent of the dining options.
But when you are in the state of mind that only a gigantic plate of overflowing sausage gravy can cure, this is the place to come.
Just don’t ask me to meet you there before noon.
Rating: Seriously Thought About Buying Shirt.
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