There’s been a place down the street from me called 3 Cafe for several months now, but I had yet to try it out before this weekend – and man, oh man. It’s always the little places that blow you out of the water, eh?
I met some friends for brunch on Saturday, and there was already a line of people waiting for tables – standing outside like troopers in the cold, due to a lack of waiting space inside. Still, from the street I could already see thick slices of homemade bread, oversized plates of eggs, and maple syrup being drizzled over sky-high stacks of pancakes.
Lucky for me, a small smattering of my friends actually have planning abilities, and one had called ahead to reserve a table, putting our group at the front of the line. We settled into comfy tables in a bright, mod-vintage dining room (art prints are flanked by Betty Boop sculptures and a delicate orchid flourishes on top of the stainless-steel bakery case).
The menus boast organic and local ingredients whenever possible across five brightly colored pages, but it’s the brimming plates passing by to greet other diners that are the true selling point at 3. After changing my mind six times, I finally chose the buckwheat blueberry pancakes and a side of sausage – my fellow diners went with omelettes with green peppers, tomato, and gorgonzola, challah French toast with caramelized bananas, and a big grilled chicken salad with raspberry vinaigrette and a side of sourdough toast. My friends tolerated me while I took photos of everyone’s dish, and in we dug – the flavors were amazing, the presentation flawless, and the portions generous. I took half of my pancakes home, and they were just as good on Sunday with an extra drizzle of syrup.
On Sunday, I grabbed a high top in the lounge of one of my favorite dinner spots, Leone’s, and gorged on gorgonzola bread and funky decor.
Now, it’s Presidents’ Day and i have yet to leave the house for food or otherwise – but if any noms reach me between now and midnight, I’ll let you know.
‘A visitor‘ left this comment on 17 Mar 10
Oh ma gawd, I might have to fly to western MA to eat there. I’d give my left arm for that french toast right now.