Guilt and Eggs

After years of just missing the brunch menu at Polly?s Cafe, we finally got up early enough on a Saturday morning to get in and get down with the smoked salmon eggs benedict. This is a slightly pathetic victory considering they serve brunch until 3pm (ok, I know, it?s very pathetic), but a trip to the vet got me up early and guilty enough afterwards to seriously need that pitcher of mimosas.

(?Did you know your cat is missing a tooth? Oh, he also has a bad ear infection, did you know that?? ?Uh, no,? I said sheepishly, squirming under the technician?s You?re An UnFit Cat Owner glare?)

I?ve loved Polly?s rough and honest simplicity for a long time. I love it?s motto ? ?All Fresh All the Time. No Freezer. No Microwave.? It?s a gastro-pub, one of the pioneers of the first wave of U Street?s ?revitalization? (or ?gentrification,? or whatever the hell else you want to call it, how about ?foodification,” let’s all get along and rejoice in getting more food in the hood!). The cosy underground space is at it?s best in fall and winter, when the red brick walls and wooden banquettes invite you to linger over a beer and gaze into the fireplace while your husband watches a game on the bar TV, conversation ebbing and flowing in a soporific haze of relaxation. The pub grub is always satisfying, the servers casual and friendly. And where else can you hear Siouxsie one minute and James Brown the next?

I was so happy to dig into those perfectly poached eggs and toast to the genius who invented the mimosa, that I forgot all about the horror awaiting me when I got home. I have to give my crotchety cat ear medication twice a day for the next week…

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