The classic needs no improvement: two eggs, lovingly poached to a hot liquid center, stacked with grilled Canadian bacon atop crisp English muffins, then smothered in heavenly rich hollandaise. El Chorro even offers an alternative: How about a turkey Benedict, the breast arriving juicy and bacon-wrapped? Or filet mignon instead of Canadian bacon? Even vegetarians are considered, with a sunny-flavored mix of grilled tomato, asparagus, eggs and hollandaise. Eggscellent!
Crepes salees are very thin, lightly salted buckwheat packets, folded around some of the most seductive stuffings imaginable. We ascend the French Alps, packing in fresh spinach, Swiss, béchamel sauce and nutmeg. We know the way to St. Tropez, stocked with tomato, zucchini, bell pepper, onion, garlic and herbs du Provence. And the Forest crepe marries fresh mushrooms in a white wine sauce with plenty of cream, garlic and herbs. The Normandie crepe is a sweet invasion of warm apple slices, caramelized with cinnamon, while the French Riviera crepe is an orgy of homemade light custard crème and fruits.
Frankly, though, all that cooking jive is way too much work. So we're thrilled that the folks at Scott's Generations do it for us -- and better than anyone else. No dried-out meat here -- this carved bounty is juicy even without gravy. No fat, either (we hate blubber on our brisket), just lean, carefully trimmed slabs -- and no extra charge for extra lean here, by the way, as if a better cut could be found. We like to build our brisket into a sandwich, stacked a full eight ounces, served on a fresh-baked onion roll alongside coleslaw and pickle spears. It's a brisket worthy of bravo.
We admit it: We're gluttons for Arcadia Farms' gobblers.
Try the Big Juan, a one-third-pound beauty named after Chuck Box's "beef engineer." On hungrier days, gravitate to the Great Big Juan, at a full one-half pound. You can add cheese (Swiss, American or Jalapeño Jack) and toppings of guacamole or bacon. Start salivating as the meat sizzles merrily away, next to fresh buns lightly toasting over the mesquite wood flames.
When it's done, your burger is placed gently on a tray, to be taken to Chuck Box's fully stocked condiment bar to be gussied up just a little more.
Segal's stops us in our tracks, with sandwiches that stretch even the biggest stomachs. The quarter-pound and half-pound burgers are simply warm-ups. The battle burger, a half-pound of meat topped with hot pastrami, starts the competition. But the full one-pound burger has us waving our white flag. It's all juicy, cooked to order, topped with whatever we choose and served with French fries and coleslaw.
We've found the beef, and it's at Segal's.
These are absolutely some of the most delightful crispy critters we've ever chewed on. It amazes us how decadent a stark pairing of vegetable and batter can be; the sweet onion rounds practically float off our polka-dot tablecloth under their joyously greaseless coating. We can dip them in the ancho chile sauce (think spicy Thousand Island dressing) that's served alongside, but these rings don't need gilding of any kind.
