A Hidden Breakfast Gem
“Emma. I feel like we’re in Prague.”
“Hate to break it ya buddy, but we’re still in Gainesville.”
“Don’t call me buddy, I’m not a dog. And yeah well, I’ve been to Prague. And this feels like a place from there.”
This riveting conversation was held over breakfast at Ivey’s Grille the other morning and since I’ve never been to Prague, you’ll have to take my friend’s word for it.
I consider myself a breakfast connoisseur. I have 20 solid years of packing away morning feasts. I’ve nibbled on croissants and Nutella in Paris and choked down vegemite on toast in Australia. As a six-year-old at Perkins, I would order the Truck Driver’s Special (the biggest meal on the menu) and giggle innocently when the waitress would place it in front of my dad instead of me. When it comes to breakfast, I go hard.
So driving down University Ave. starving and a bit hung-over, we stumbled upon Ivey’s. The vibe is hipster and casual. Chalkboards tell you of the organic specials and where the food is from. I must say, it’s refreshing to know the origin of the chow on your plate.
There were a few silly books lying around in the corner of our booth to distract us while we waited. I almost forgot how I hungry I was while I flipped through dramatic black and white photos of dogs. If you’re on a first date and the awkward silence creeps up on you, the books will save the day. Who doesn’t love a picture of a disgruntled basset hound?
Now you have to trust me as an expert when I say that the food was incredible. My omelet was cooked to perfection and the home fries served with it had just enough spice and flavor. As a firm believer in having dessert with every meal, I was torn over ordering a chocolate chip pancake with my eggs. (Plus my friend was paying and I was nervous about looking like a glutton). Our server, who was quiet but really kind, offered to have the kitchen make me one kid-sized pancake so I could have the taste. Epic score.
If you’d like a little Eastern European feel to your morning, I urge you to try Ivey’s. Bring a friend, a lover, or some random hipster from the record store. They are bound to love it.
I just don’t recommend calling them “buddy.”
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Polly
