a place i can call home

July 11, 2010


Caution – a word contained in a picture below may not be suitable for all audiences and may be deemed inappropriate and offensive by most.  Except Brits.  Consider yourself warned.



Jenny and I hardly squeezed our way through the door of Carman’s Country Kitchen (11th and Wharton, Friday-Monday, 8am-2pm), partly due to our ample backsides, but mostly because of the large crowd of people waiting to eat and trying to beat the sweltering 102 degree heat outside.  A staple in the South Philly brunch scene, and one of the primary members of the Philadelphia “brunch belt,” Carman’s is basically just a small room with three tables (accommodating 2-3 each) and two counters (adding another 9-10 seats).  It’s rumored that larger parties are able to sit in the bed of Carman’s pickup that’s parked outside, but I haven’t seen it in my many passes by.

We had made a reservation (it’s recommended), but were told by the waiter (who we later found out was Carman’s son, Jaret) that we’d still have a 10-15 minute wait.  (Carman offers everyone coffee while they wait, so you don’t have to sacrifice your caffeine addiction in order to get a seat.)  Four minutes later, we settled into our seats at the far end of the counter near the door, taking in the atmosphere of the place, which was full of tchotchkes (mostly of the sexual variety) and signs of all types, many of them bearing the motto of the restaurant.

are there 16 of them? are they 16 years old? and what exactly does "smart" mean?

jaret has been sufficiently guilt tripped into being helpful.

enough. said.

***If it isn’t yet obvious, you probably don’t want to bring your kids here, unless you’re a bad parent.***

Each day at Carman’s there are four menu items – a pancake/belgian waffle dish, a challah french toast dish, an omelet, and a special.  As someone who truly struggles at brunch to make the choice between sweet and savory, I was thankful that Jenny wanted to share so my tastebuds could be fully satisfied.  We opted for the challah french toast with jersey blueberries and south carolina peaches and the special – a large piece of shrimp with crab grits, two eggs any way you want them, yukon gold home fries and toast.  We also had coffee (of course) and sides of bacon and homemade country sausage.  (I know good sausage, and Carman’s is right up there with the best I’ve ever had.  It’s definitely worth the $2. Don’t skip it.)

mmm...french toast.

this was much more tasty than the picture implies. the grits had so much crab it was shocking.

Almost everything was absolutely delicious (though I’ll admit that I’ve had better potatoes in my day), and I ended up feeling full but not uncomfortable.  Unfortunately, Jenny wasn’t quite so lucky – “I’m so full that when I sneezed, I felt like I was going to vomit.”   (That’s what she gets for having a cold and a weak immune system.)

Overall, the mix of the over the top inappropriateness and unintentional kitschiness made me feel right at home.  Carman cooks every dish, making it feel as though you’re at an eccentric aunt’s house for breakfast.  To me, that’s comfort at its finest.


pink is the new brunch

March 7, 2010

Do you know what the best thing in life is?  Puppies playing?  Nope.  Sleeping with the windows open?  Wrong.  A good book paired with a cup of coffee?  Uh uh.  Grammatically correct text messages?  Incorrect.  Free alcohol?  Well, that’s pretty great, but no.  Ladies and gentlemen, the best thing in life is…(drum roll, please)…brunch.  The reason is quite simple: brunch is basically a no-holds-barred, gastronomic free-for-all.  The conventional rules of what’s acceptable to eat at any given time of day are thrown out the window.  Tequila with breakfast and steak before noon?  Yes, please!

This weekend marked the beginning of a new era for Distrito, the Jose Garces modern Mexican spot in University City (3945 Chestnut – entrance on 40th), with the addition of an alcohol heavy, surprisingly affordable brunch.   The building itself is a bit too much, and doesn’t fit in with the landscape and architecture of the city.  (It looks more like it should house a bunch of condos in Williamsburg.)  Having never been, I was not prepared for the pink – pink walls, pink napkins, pink cushions, pink accents in/on the chairs.  I actually felt like I had walked into a Stephen Starr restaurant, which was not the best first impression, at least in my book.

Once my eyes adjusted to the pepto bismol-colored decor, I was able to take in the overtly gaudy and kitschy touches, including the “Hecho en Mexico” t-shirts that the Latin busboys wore.  Over the top, to say the least.   My friend and I were the first people there (we take our brunch seriously, and new brunch = no line), and the service was pretty great, though waiting on one table isn’t really much of a feat.  The first thing we did was order a drink (surprising, right?), the nitro caipirinha (cachaça, canton ginger liqueur and lime; pretty much tasted like a mojito – sorry Brazil) for me and the hemingway (chile infused hornitos tequila, maraschino and grapefruit) for her.

We decided to share so we could enjoy both the sweet and savory options (always the hardest of the brunch decisions) and went with the huevos rancheros (fried egg, roasted tomato, asparagus and black beans) and the waiter-recommended torrijas (deep fried tres leches battered french toast, goat’s milk cajeta, fresh berries and chantilly cream).  The waiter commented on the torrijas being the food version of crack, and he may have been right – absolutely, delightfully, lip-smackingly delicious.  The huevos were also pretty tasty, but the drizzle of crema (not mentioned on the menu) was something we both could have done without (though it surprisingly didn’t seem to negatively impact the flavor for either of us sour cream haters).

We also ordered coffee (nice and strong) and got suckered into ordering the fresh pan dulce (sweet breads) to complement it.  Completely unnecessary – we had plenty of food without, so they basically just took up space on the table.  However, the couple of bites I had – most of which were dunked into my coffee, leaving an unappetizing mess of floating crumbs behind – were pretty damn fantastic.

Overall, Distrito offered a fairly good brunch in an overdone atmosphere that, despite being a touch excessive, still had some charm.  Not a bad way to start a perfect Sunday that will include a nap (with the windows open) and a homemade meal with friends.