Breakfast of Champions: The Pantry

These two bloggers, they do my heart well. Sure Mendez can be a bit silly at times and Hans has been known for shrewdness, but who hasn’t from time to time? I really like their style and their respect for breakfast. Why I should know. Humph? Whats that? Oh who am I? Hahahaha maybe this will help you out “They’re Great!" Purr. Tony Tiger, pleased to meet you. I’ve been watching Hans and Mendez for quite some time now, and well yes, they too are great.

Recently my agent asked me if I wanted to do a breakfast special with Hans and Mendez. I didn’t even ask where we were going, I jumped at the chance. I took the next plane out from L.A. and landed at LaGuardia. I’d rather not go into the details of my flight. If Kevin Smith felt embarrassed for being denied a seat on an air plane, can you imagine my embarrassment of having to be kenneled and stored in the hull for six hours. Kevin Smith’s fat ass deserved it, at least I’m a real star, but I digress, I am better than that! Hahahah. Purr. Look at me, talk about the pot calling the kettle black! Me stooping down to that level, blogging about my disappointments and disrespect. Egg in the face is one thing, but to use it as you Twitter profile picture! Purr…

Once I arrived in Hartford I chartered a private jet. I would love to give the coordinates, but lets just say I landed somewhere… special… Imagine Willy Wonka’s factory, no, Warhol’s factory, well maybe a bit more Wonka…. Regardless, it doesn’t need to be said that Tony Tiger, Hans and Mendez got down to some serious partying. How can I put this gently? Checks aren’t the only things they rip and sometimes they do more with lines than just cut them, but someone has to cut the raw. If its not raw we were surely baked and more was filleted than just steaks, but regardless… purr.

After a week of bending and preparing our appetites we were ready to eat. Hans suggested The Pantry, a breakfast only establishment not far from the Blogcave. Let me tell you, I’ve made a living off of breakfast. Put several cubs (after a while you just stop counting) through college and use the cereal bucks to take care of several other broads and their cubs. Panthers, sex kittens, cougars I’ve had them all. Back before all of this whole grain nonsense, Captain Crunch and I rented this bugaloo… hahaha, purr. [Tony is now rubbing himself against the floor and couch, his hair is every where. He rolls up yet another catnip cigarette]

Breakfast is beautiful. If it is an art form, The Pantry is Michelangelo. The interior is small, but comfortable. Posters advertising long since past jazz festivals decorate the wall adding color and a laid back vibe. The walls croon out “It’s okay, this is the most important meal of the day and you are in good hands.” The manager invites you to sit at any table that is clean. We sat next to the window facing State Street. Nothing accompanies a good breakfast like rays of the morning sun. This is not some greasy morning after spoon; dark glasses and stained shirts are out of place.

The double sided menu is clean and concise. Waffles, pancakes, eggs and omelets can be found on the first page, but the real gems can be found on the flip side, where the benedicts are printed. Because I am under contract I ordered a bowl of Frosted Flakes. Hans ordered an eggs florentine for a holy hollandaise experience. Mendez ordered the eggs blackstone. Both are around ten dollars. While waiting for the waitress we noticed the powerful affect that a great breakfast has on people. We were surrounded by smiling faces. Faces of every age, race and college affiliation. Yale sweatshirts and Southern Connecticut State University sweatshirts, literally cut of the same cloth, dined together like lions and lambs, or a tiger and bloggers. Meow. A man with a hard hat and reflective vest sat at the bar, hipsters in a large booth, and older women catching up over pancakes. It was a beautiful sight.

The waitress is the kind of woman whom you wouldn’t mind serving you breakfast on the regular. A midnight snack wouldn’t be too bad either. Mendez slightly elbowed me at the table. “Tony, as you know, I’m the guy who usually writes about the waitress, I’m curious to hear what you have to say about her.” I smiled at my friend. “Mendez,” I said, “I’m not scared in the least bit, thus this isn’t a tail between my legs.” Regardless to say, we high-fived. You see there’s a reason why there are no women in my business. Cereal spokesmen are notorious for having non-bite sized libidos. Captain, Count, Boo-Berry, Snap, Crackle and Pop (well not Pop- let's just say that he and a very famous Wheaties endorser where caught in the back room of General Mills doing more than pouring low fat milk on each others balanced breakfasts). It’s a business for men who aren’t afraid of being men: Coco Puffs isn’t going to be hiring John Mayer any time soon. If Hans and Mendez weren’t doing their thing with New Haven Eats It, they would be on the front of a cereal box, one being served with a carton of cold milk with the hearts and souls of dames on the back. I think that deserves a “purrr.”

The food came out. Served with fresh cantaloupe and home fries the benedicts are the best I have ever seen or tasted in my nine lives. The bacon was thick and smoky, the eggs poached to perfection. There was a time in my life, before I stumbled across Frosted Flakes when I was traveling the country selling perfume door to door. The work took me across the country and back. If not on my sales route, from divorce hearing to divorce hearing. If a fox creeps into the chicken coup late at night whose fault is it? The fox, the chicken, or the rusty pad lock on the coup? I blame destiny. I’ll see you next Tuesday. Any ways, while I was traveling the country I have eaten a lot of home fries. I’ve eaten them at hotels, diners and at 4 star restaurant brunches and these where the best to ever pass my lovers lips and mouth. Hahaha, can you imagine appearing before a judge and saying that the kids not yours? Whiskers and all? Great home fries, purr.

We finished our meals. Sadly I had over stayed my welcome in the Elm City. Urgent business had come up back in L.A. the kind of business that would never have existed back in the days before whole wheat, but that’s the game we play. We said our fair wells. It would not diminish either myself nor Hans and Mendez to mention here that their was not a dry eye out of the three of us. I told our waitress that I would call her soon and gave Mendez the address of a great customer that I knew in the area. He’s gonna look great in stripes on date. Not. Now this is the most touching part: Hans taught me the secret New Haven Eats it Hand shake... well if the water works weren't turned on. Hans and Mendez saw me to the air port and politely turned away while I was being kenneled. The Pantry is truly a gem in New Haven’s crown and as I’m sure you could have predicted my final thought is this: those two bloggers, those lovable writers of food, well, THEY’RE GREAT!