Brunch Pants are for The Egg Shop NYC

They say the egg is nature’s perfect food. A thing of beauty, chock full of vitamins and minerals and love and happiness.

It follows that a logical next step would be something along the lines of the The Egg Shop, a darling little establishment in SoHo with white walls, cozy booths and eggs coming out of everyone’s ears.

I flirted with the idea of ordering the Egghop B.E.C., a poached egg served atop avocado toast with cheese and savory jam and pickled jalapeño; or the El Camino, a bowl of pork carnitas over fried tortilla and eggs which my fellow Ashcraft, Emily, strongly vouched for.

Somehow I ended up ordering a thing called The Spandex. A deep – but not too deep – bowl of quinoa, kale, pickled carrots, and avocado topped with a shiny poached egg.

The guy sitting beside us slumped over his table, staring at a plate of toast oozing egg yolk and melted cheddar.

“And I’m on a diet,” he said defeatedly, more at the general vicinity than to his date.

I’m just going to say it: I don’t like quinoa. I think it’s an overly grainy whole grain. You’d have to brush your teeth with a loofah to get all the seeds out. However, the smart guys and gals at the Egg Shop seasoned the potting soil I mean quinoa with miso-tahini flavor, and called it Spandex. And it was delicious, with a perfectly poached golden egg yolk seeping down into it like a ray of juicy sunshine poring through stems of kale and carrots.

Spandex

The mint and lemon infused tap water made up for the slight weakness in the coffee department. Then again, I drink from the fountain of a French press daily, which as a reminder to us all, is an old fashioned device that brews thicker, stronger coffee than a pot ever could.

I felt full, nourished, and satisfied by my indoor plants. Maybe I wouldn’t have without watching my cousin Emily nosh on avocado toast, or without our diet-wrecking friend next to us; or without our split order of hash browns which were more like thick, crispy-on-the-outside potato pancakes. Delicious, a little peppery with some paprika sprinkled in and served with a chipotle-spiced ketchup, a well-timed poke rather than a kick to my Texan taste buds.

We walked out and stopped just down the street for a cup of coffee. It was Emily’s first cup of the day. And my third. Ah – that’s what was missing.

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