A series of posts on culinary, bibitory and other ventures whilst back in the states for Christmas and New Year’s. Part two: in which only a python could have bitten into the build-a-biscuit at Peels.
Running out the next morning from my big eating day the night before, I stopped by Northern Spy Food Co. for a tea, and then moved on (with copy of Edible Manhattan in hand) to Peels on the Bowery for a proper breakfast. Opened by the owners of the Freemans restaurant and lifestyle brand last fall, Peels had been widely lauded for its build-your-own-breakfast sandwich operation, starting with what I firmly believe to be the world’s largest buttermilk biscuit. From there, you can choose to add proteins, dairy, egg and vegetable to said biscuit for a totally customized breakfast experience. I chose to go with a classic: egg, sausage and Grafton (I believe) cheddar. For the price (about $8), I expected a sandwich not much bigger than an egg McMuffin. What came out of the kitchen fifteen minutes later was something Goliath might have popped into his mouth before that fateful meeting in the valley of Elah. The biscuit was, I shit you not, at least 6 inches tall. There was no way a human jaw could distend wide enough to bite into the sandwich ‘as is.’ I spent a good five minutes staring at plate, examining it from all angles, just to determine the best plan of attack. With a bottle of hot sauce by my side, I finally decided to divide and conquer: the behemoth biscuit was beheaded and cut into quarters. Each subsequent bite included soft scrambled egg, savory sausage and tangy cheese, covered with a flaky cap and all doused liberally with Frank’s Red Hot. It perhaps took longer to eat than the other paragon of New York breakfast sandwich bliss, the country ham biscuit at Egg in Williamsburg, but was equally, differently (less funkily) good.
Next time: The Nutcracker at Lincoln Center and transcendant goat in the West Village.
the future and what comes after 