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REVIEWS ARCHIVE
09.08.98


Morning Glories
The early Bluebirds get the legendary breakfast at this popular cafe.

The grits are yellow, the eggs powerhouse, and everyone rolls up their sleeves for breakfasts at the bluebird.

WHAT: Bluebird Cafe
CUISINE: American
WHEN: Breakfast and lunch daily
WHERE: 3625 Prytania St., 895-7166
CARDS: Cash only


English novelist Somerset Maugham once said, "To eat well in England, you should have breakfast three times a day." The same can be said for the Bluebird Cafe, a homey little joint on Prytania that offers breakfast and lunch daily until 3 p.m. I have known neighborhood regulars who have admitted to enjoying breakfast at the Bluebird at 7 a.m., then returning there for a second breakfast during the lunch hour, and getting a hot plate special in a "doggie bag" for their dinner later. Other diehard Bluebird fans simply refer to it as their home away from home. It's because of the good cooking, huge portions, friendly service and low prices. You can get out of there for around $10 for two. Perhaps that is why there is always a long line of customers waiting outside for breakfast each weekend.

Many lament the recent closing of the second Bluebird Cafe on Panola Street, which folded nearly two months ago. It was just as good as the original, but not as crowded.

I can recall the same kind of fondness we had for a place on Prytania and Washington Street that closed years ago, the Little House, with its matronly waitresses, unending coffee refills, low prices and all-day breakfast offerings. As a college student with an apartment one block away, I went nearly every day for breakfast and/or lunch. That was the era before I learned the little secret that cooking wasn't a mysterious art bestowed only on the Chosen Ones.

Just like the Bluebird Cafe, the Little House became a gathering place for all our friends in the neighborhood and a place where the waitresses would make us feel as though we were dining at home. We were perplexed and outraged at its closing and didn't give a hoot about the economic realities of the owners' need to downsize. After all, the Little House had become more than a breakfast place -- it was a society.

It's not unusual to walk into the Bluebird Cafe and see people who know each other conversing from different tables, or at the lunch counter, where you can catch a glimpse of the kitchen action. The whirlwind cooks are from the short order school of culinary wizardry.

Bluebird is the kind of diner that is retro to an extent -- from the cooking and no-frills decor to the prices -- but it also offers contemporary culinary sensibilities, such as bran muffins, red onions on sandwiches, fresh grilled vegetables, yogurt with fresh fruit (which is rather upscale for a diner), and "powerhouse" eggs blended with nutritional yeast, tamari and cheese, served with black beans and whole wheat toast. There is also a delicious vegetarian version of the rather heavy huevos rancheros, designed with mixed grilled veggies as a substitute for the eggs. Of course, you can get the entire scope of diner classics here as well, from bulbous burgers to grilled cheese, fried egg sandwiches to chicken salad stuffed inside a tomato (although the salad here is very chunky, made with grilled chicken and a light mayo dressing).

The Zagat Survey, in its 1998-99 "America's Best Meal Deals" edition, listed Bluebird for its "down-home eats," "awesome huevos rancheros" and "corned beef hash to die for." I can attest to the hash, which is sinfully divine. But the main reason I go to Bluebird now is for the sake of my children, who love the pancakes and waffles. It's always a special treat to see my 6-year-old's eyes light up when they plop the plate down before her, piled with enormous pancakes enveloping such amenities as fresh blueberries. She pours the amber-colored syrup on top and draws sharp breaths before expounding on its majesty. Once, after she came out of the hospital, she enjoyed the sublime "anything goes" celebration: pancakes, plus side orders of Zapp's potato chips and fries with ketchup, then ice cream for dessert.

For my teenager, eating the Belgian waffle at the Bluebird is just about the only time she'll consider blowing her diet. Several years ago, when I was expecting my last child, I had constant cravings for Bluebird's wonderful omelettes, which are fluffy, gooey and too generously apportioned for one normal appetite, filled with everything imaginable. Today, I enjoy the salads. But most of all, I get a big kick out of watching my children's faces as they marvel at their breakfast and the waitresses' ability to brilliantly balance several plates of tall food up and down their forearms. A neighborhood favorite, the Bluebird is a sleeves-up diner distilled to its sweetest essence.


   
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