This morning we were slated for the Wild Mountain Cafe just down 85th toward 15th, the kids and I, along with their visiting friend Eric. Something eaten yesterday didn't agree with me in the night, so I almost begged off, but I'm so glad I didn't. J. texted me at 7:45 to say Whizzer was chanting "Muh-muh-muh" and looking through the baby gate down the stairs, watching for me. So I rushed it and drove over a little after 8:00. She saw me from the window and waved down at me, crowing. Now that is a reception! The lovely thing about this Grandma gig is that I haven't done much to earn the love, but it's there. Friends had told me that there's some magic about being Grandma, and now I know it's true.
The cafe was great. Service is leisurely, and I'm Type A when it comes to service, but I relaxed with a Mimosa as we sat and talked. They brought Whizzer soymoo in a spill-proof cup, which made her very happy, and a huge cinnamon roll for sharing. Around the table, when they served the platters, there was a BAT Benedict (avocado instead of lettuce), scrambled eggs with fruit cup, lox on potato cake (instead of English muffin) with cream cheese, cheddar scramble with toast, and my delicious chicken sausage, eggs, and toast. Coffee was supplied by Herkimer, which means it was really, really good, and their homemade raspberry preserves were luscious.
Saturday brunch is crowded, of course. Maybe I'll go back soon, just me on a weekday morning with my lappy, and sit a long time over more of that good coffee.
Wild Mountain Cafe
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