Broad Street Breakfasts

Broad Street Breakfasts

Muffins

Clyde and I have a Sunday morning ritual now. And no, it doesn’t involve a pilgrimage to some local house of worship — unless you include Broad Street Bakery as a sacred site.

Six days a week, Clyde assembles tasty breakfasts from our stock of cereals, breads, soy sausage, and fruits. On Sunday, though, is his day off — so we go out for breakfast. Problem is, in Jackson, eating Sunday morning breakfast out is harder than you’d think.

Our local Waffle House is right out (every other week, the food inspectors are finding hair in the pancake batter or roaches in the hash browns). McDonald’s breakfasts are just grotesque (McGriddles, anyone?). We got food poisoning at the nasty Barnhill’s, and we don’t want to get dressed up, drive downtown, and wait until 11:00 to “brunch” at the Edison Walthall Hotel.

The result? Week after week, we end up at Broad Street Bakery. Clyde can get cheese grits there, made the way cheese grits ought to be (by Southerners, for Southerners). I can get my beloved cappuccino muffin (coffee essence, dotted with dark chocolate chips), and he can order a reasonably upscale breakfast burrito packed with eggs, four cheeses, and his choice of pork product.

The key to a delightful Sunday breakfast experience at Broad Street? Beat the Episcopalians, who flood the place after their early service dismisses. As the lines get longer, tables (especially tables well away from the intense morning sunlight) get harder and harder to find. There’s nothing more off-putting than wandering the restaurant, your breakfast cooling on a tray, while desperately searching for a place to park and partake.

Last week, I got a special treat: a fellow Broad Street breakfaster wandered up as I was doctoring my coffee and said, “You’re Mark, aren’t you?”

I blinked. “Yes.”

He busied himself at the microwave. “I read your blog, like, every day. Really enjoy it.”

Things like that — and a hot cup of Broad Street coffee — keep me going all day.

Muffins

Clyde and I have a Sunday morning ritual now. And no, it doesn’t involve a pilgrimage to some local house of worship — unless you include Broad Street Bakery as a sacred site.

Six days a week, Clyde assembles tasty breakfasts from our stock of cereals, breads, soy sausage, and fruits. On Sunday, though, is his day off — so we go out for breakfast. Problem is, in Jackson, eating Sunday morning breakfast out is harder than you’d think.

Our local Waffle House is right out (every other week, the food inspectors are finding hair in the pancake batter or roaches in the hash browns). McDonald’s breakfasts are just grotesque (McGriddles, anyone?). We got food poisoning at the nasty Barnhill’s, and we don’t want to get dressed up, drive downtown, and wait until 11:00 to “brunch” at the Edison Walthall Hotel.

The result? Week after week, we end up at Broad Street Bakery. Clyde can get cheese grits there, made the way cheese grits ought to be (by Southerners, for Southerners). I can get my beloved cappuccino muffin (coffee essence, dotted with dark chocolate chips), and he can order a reasonably upscale breakfast burrito packed with eggs, four cheeses, and his choice of pork product.

The key to a delightful Sunday breakfast experience at Broad Street? Beat the Episcopalians, who flood the place after their early service dismisses. As the lines get longer, tables (especially tables well away from the intense morning sunlight) get harder and harder to find. There’s nothing more off-putting than wandering the restaurant, your breakfast cooling on a tray, while desperately searching for a place to park and partake.

Last week, I got a special treat: a fellow Broad Street breakfaster wandered up as I was doctoring my coffee and said, “You’re Mark, aren’t you?”

I blinked. “Yes.”

He busied himself at the microwave. “I read your blog, like, every day. Really enjoy it.”

Things like that — and a hot cup of Broad Street coffee — keep me going all day.

Mark McElroy

I'm a husband, mystic, writer, media producer, creative director, tinkerer, blogger, reader, gadget lover, and pizza fiend.

1 comment

  • I Love Breakfast! And I agree, good breakfast is hard to find in Jackson, however, here are my current recommendations: Primos – Lakeland or Lake Harbor. Good, fresh, comfortable. Brunch at Juleps – doesn’t open until 10am but pretty good. The Hilton on County Line. I don’t like breakfast food on a steamtable so I avoid the buffet, but ordering from the menu is great. Especially the pancakes and grits. Ask for Ms. Paula’s or Diane’s section. And you can’t go wrong with the brunch menu at Bravo’s. I love the crab omelet. And I love the crabcake Benedict at 2 o’Clock Bayou. Did I mention, I love breakfast!

Who Wrote This?

Mark McElroy

I'm a husband, mystic, writer, media producer, creative director, tinkerer, blogger, reader, gadget lover, and pizza fiend.

Worth a Look