GEORGE & PHIL’S BREAKFAST MEDITATION, STOP #7: Glenn’s Café (guest starring Adam Sperber)

Glenn's Breakfast

Axiom of the Day: “Never trust dinner at a breakfast place; never trust breakfast at a dinner place.”

This axiom lands with some irony. Originally we had planned to defy the latter clause and head to McLank’s, which, along with some nice recent publicity has received some wildly varying reviews. Since none of the bad reviews were focused on their breakfast menu, we felt there was little risk, plus we could poach us a little of their publicity. (Our biggest concern was the dissonant, euphonia-bereft name). However, since our fond fellow Kewpie Mr. Sperber was in town, we decided to divert to a highly-lauded, time-tested Columbia spot that Adam (born and raised here!) had never heard of. I was surprised and excited to learn that Glenn’s opened at 7 am, because I’d only ever eaten dinner (and enjoyed a couple of tipsy brunches) there, thus the former clause sailed five feet over my head.

Things learned? Adam is Larry Bird’s Peanut Brittle Brother! Adam’s recent knockout karaoke rendition of “Suspicious Minds” evolved into an emo-cum-screamo interpretation due to Sperb’s lack of a Presleyian baritone! Adam is now a choir director bitch! And Adam finally digs Toni Morrison! This is why we occasionally invite him: George’s biggest news was that he was folding laundry later in the afternoon, mine that I am (supposed to be, right now) grading papers. We also mourned fallen comrades.

Also, he was a distraction from the fare, fortunately. I love this place, but–alas, that first axiom. George’s Belgian waffle was fancied up to resemble something more Las Vegas-ian, with an equivalent level of taste. My ham scramble was a touch on the watery side, and the bell peppers…can those be al dente? Adam’s cup ‘o yogurt appeared decent–he did pause his narratives frequently enough to eat it–but, as George noted on my way to drop him back off at his laundry room, “How can you —- up a parfait?”

I provided the adverb; no sooner had it left my lips than he provided, and I agreed with, the score (we’ve known each other awhile): “Profoundly–” “–a 5.” We have no plans to avoid Glenn’s in the future. Every institution has a bad day, and we’ve spent time in many of them.

Our server was delightful, attentive and stylish, and agreed to take our picture. If I look slightly unimpressed, it’s only because I’d just been crop-dusted upon returning from plugging the meter (Adam’s stories are long).

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