Sunday Morning Chowdown

The Hurricane Cafe

2230 7th Avenue, Seattle

(206) 682-5858

I recently found myself in Seattle in desperate need of a greasy breakfast. It happens.

I’d spent the previous day at a music festival eating pre-packed sandwiches, which over the course of a day, formed into balls of bread, cheese and wilted lettuce in my cramped backpack. So I wanted to go all out on breakfast. Should you find yourself in a similar situation, you could do a lot worse than the Hurricane Café near Seattle Center. But be warned, it’s not for the faint of heart.

The Hurricane Café is a bit like a decommissioned Denny’s that’s been relocated to a warehouse. It’s kind of dirty and dark, and the rock music they pipe in echoes in its cavernous space – the sort of place that’s probably better at 4 a.m. than at noon. On the bright side, they have arcade games, plenty of copies of The Stranger, and breakfast served around the clock. Strangely, they also have a giant LCD screen over the kitchen that displays text messages.

I ordered the “Country Benedict,” and it did not disappoint. The CB replaces the eggs Benedict’s traditional English muffin with biscuit, the canonical ham with sausage patty, Hollandaise with country gravy and keeps the poached eggs, which – as far as I could tell – is a really greasy roux with mushrooms. It’s rare that one finds a dish that so deftly balances abhorrence and appetite. It was delicious and exactly what I had been craving.

While I was able to polish off my breakfast and a pancake I ordered on the side, my brunch companions had difficulty. Their weaker constitutions became bogged down by the volume and fat content of the food. Admittedly, the hash browns were pretty industrial strength. The only other person to brave a dish with country gravy later recommended ordering it as a side, allowing the food to be dipped into – rather than slathered in – gravy. Oh, and he also recommended you get a Coke to wash it down. I got by with coffee.

The service was good, with coffee re-filled regularly and overcooked eggs replaced promptly and cheerfully. All in all, it was the exact breakfast I wanted. And once I get the angioplasty done, I’ll be all set to do it again.

Word to the wise, there’s no door on the men’s room bathroom stall. Pace yourself accordingly.

Price: $15 (including tea and tip)
Lineup: None
Vegetarian options: Sort of
Soy milk: Not a chance