A fake book club meeting at Central

When I realized that things were not working anymore with TBM, I knew it was best not to drag things out and just end it before I started second guessing myself. Unfortunately, he had just left for a week long trip back to California and to Phoenix for the holiday weekend. I tried to text him to call me when he landed, but because of a flight delay and his general inability to get back to me, it took two days for us to actually schedule a phone call. That Sunday morning, we briefly chatted and I explained how I felt that I just had reached the limit of my patience, and felt slightly pathetic after the last few months. He responded with complete silence, and I continued to word vomit for an additional 6 minutes before realizing he really had absolutely nothing to say about it being over. After getting off that awkward phone, I then had to rush to get ready for a “book club” brunch at Central Michel Richard down the street from my apartment. We had decided to read Me Before You by Jojo Moyes this month, but realized a week before our scheduled brunch date that only three people had actually finished the book (confession: I had not even looked the book on Amazon, let alone read a single word out of the novel). So we just said screw it and decided to just meet up for an indulgent meal instead.

I absolutely love Central. I first went to Central on my 21st birthday, where my mother stood up in the middle of the restaurant and snapped approximately 32 pictures of the waiter checking my ID after taking my cocktail order. This is Michel Richard’s bistro, meant to be a casual option to his Citronelle (which closed in July 2012 due to extensive water damange). The food has always been top notch, while the vibe is comfortable and unpretentious. After reading a great review for their brunch menu, I had put it on my list of weekend spots to return to. They have a very fair 3-course prix fixe menu for $27, with bottomless drinks for only $10. I knew that I wanted to be productive the rest of the day, so skipped out on the drinks.

For the first course, I started with the chocolate pancrepes, which were served with a side of chocolate sauce and fresh whipped cream.

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The pancrepes, a love child of pancakes and crepes, tasted exactly like they were supposed to. Slightly crispy yet fluffy, these were absolutely decadent (like all of Michel Richard’s sweets). I liked that the chocolate sauce was not overly sweet he crispy little chocolate balls (of course we laughed anytime someone mentioned “little balls” during that lunch because we are all classy, mature ladies) added some texture. I could feel myself filling up after just this first course. SM ordered the deconstructed caesar salad, which she enjoyed. A few girls ordered the yellow tomato gazpacho with burrata, and approved.

My second course, which I had been looking to ever since I started hearing about the prix fixed brunch options, was the famous chicken and waffles.

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This dish did not disappoint my already extremely high expectations. The boneless chicken was incredibly sweet and moist inside (gonna use that m word whether you like it or not), while the thin coating was light, crispy and just total perfection. The maple foam, unlike syrup did not soak into the waffles and make everything soggy  (great because I morph into a 6 year old throwing a temper tantrum when food gets soggy). Each bite, with the waffle and the buttery mashed potatoes was simply amazing. Everyone’s conversation just faded into a hazy background in my mind as I devoured this.


When I finally came up for air, I realized I was totally stuffed. In fact, we were all bursting at the seams after our second courses. Still, we had desserts coming and being strong, independent woman, we were not about to let a few spoonfuls of butter stop us (post-breakup self attitude here).

The creme brulee french toast was the final course for me. This was good, but at this point I was so full that I could not finish it. It had been an extremely decadent, carb-heavy three courses. Usually, I embrace my weekend carbs with loving arms, but I had spent the previous night in the corner of a dance floor housing pita chips and Costco spinach artichoke dip, so my arms were a little tired of hugging carbs by Sunday morning.


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The portions are shockingly large, and I was basically waddling by the time we got up. I debated going for a second run, but SM suggested hitting up some stores which sounded like a better way to burn calories (and dollar bills). The brunch is definitely a great deal, and full of deliciously (rich) options. While it is not something my cholesterol could handle on a regular basis, it was the best thing to immediate follow an awkward phone call because it reminded me that butter is always better than boys.


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