I'm not much of a morning person. My blood doesn't usually start stirring until the crack of noon. How do I deal with the rising sun? Throw the covers over my head and pray the spreading daylight is a bad dream that will go away. If I can just stay in that position for the next 12 hours, I tell myself, my prayers will be answered.
Naturally, I'm married to one of those infuriatingly chipper, chirping early risers. My spouse will wake up, take a peek at the clock, nudge me and warble, "My goodness, look at the time. It's already 6:30. What do you want to do today?"
What do I want to do today? I have to suppress the first plan of action that comes to mind. After all, I groggily reason, if my wife weren't around, who'd make the bed? Who'd accompany my daughters to the feminine products aisle at Walgreens? And could I get a date for New Year's Eve?
Morning people, I've noticed, want to do more than rise and shine: They also want to eat breakfast, now. Of course--their motors are revved up, and they require immediate fueling. My motor and my appetite, on the other hand, take several hours to kick into gear.
Still, whether it's the break of dawn or high noon, everyone has to eat breakfast sometime. So I recently roamed all over the Valley trying to get the day off to a tasty start.
First stop: the Farmhouse, in Gilbert. The setting is pretty enough to get me out of my pajamas in the a.m., a real slice of agrarian Americana. The restaurant occupies a lovely 1928 Craftsman-style house, surrounded by dwindling acres of cotton and alfalfa cropland.
The converted homestead looks like it sprang from the cover of an old Saturday Evening Post. Among its charms are several cozy, homey rooms, wood floors and white-ruffled window curtains. You'll also spot an old breakfront and display shelves lined with china.
The best decor feature, however, is the shaded porch. You'll probably get to spend lots of time on it, too. That's because unless you get here about the time your roosters start crowing, you'll be waiting for a table (especially on Saturdays). But it's no hardship. Strike up a conversation with other waiting folks, a well-scrubbed lot of early risers, many with kids in tow. Or go inside and fetch a copy of the daily paper to pass the time. Just make sure you've scrawled your name and the number in your party on the notepad outside the door.
Operated by a mother-daughter team, the Farmhouse puts together a traditional American breakfast. That means omelets, pancakes, waffles, French toast, muffins and cinnamon rolls. It also means that this is a breakfast that will see most folks through to dinner, via an afternoon nap.
The Farmhouse doesn't spoil you like some other breakfast spots do by offering a freebie basket of bread, muffins and rolls. Still, you won't regret purchasing the house model, lined with apple muffins, biscuits and a sweet, gooey cinnamon roll. Fresh-squeezed orange juice also gets the meal off to a good start.
If your day's plans include plowing the lower 40, the full stack of buttermilk flapjacks should provide you with sufficient energy. These oversize disks are notably fluffy, so you'll stay light on your feet. But they're notably tasty, too, so you don't need to pour on a bucketful of syrup. You also won't need a side of bacon, which came just short of ashes the day we ordered it.
Folks concerned about getting their daily recommended allowance of butter should consider the waffle. Every one of its tiny crevices comes filled with melted butter, which supplies the principal flavor note. Fortunately, the waffle is served with a small cup of assorted fresh fruit, which furnishes a welcome complementary touch.
If the Denver version is any indication, the omelets are the best things here. The eggs are whipped up as light and airy as cotton candy, and crammed full with shaved ham, green pepper, sauteed onion and lots of jack and Cheddar cheeses. Wonderfully crunchy home fries and whole-wheat French-bread toast accompany all the omelet platters.
Machaca and eggs, an occasional daily special, should also help shake the sleep from your eyes. That's because the dish had an unexpected hot chile punch. (The kitchen was out of beef on our visit, so the cook used shredded chicken instead, with no ill effect.) Sides of home fries and ranch beans fill in any lingering appetite cracks.
The only breakfast disappointment? It's the French toast, prepared from undistinguished slices of thin, commercial white bread, sprinkled with powdered sugar. This snoozy dish almost put me back to sleep.
