Hatch, a brunch place which recently opened in Huntington Village, knows it exists in the age of Instagram. On the walls, motifs of flower-suns and birds. There’s a lot of natural light, and cartoons play on a TV above the bacon mural (!?). There’s another mural of that bear-shaped honey squeeze jar that has probably been sitting in your kitchen cupboard for six years (no, just me? ok). Some of the booths are curved and yellow and the hanging light fixtures look like halved hard boiled eggs. The tables have a white imitation-tree-ring pattern on a backdrop of gray and the menu… yellow gingham. This is Instagram GOLD. Platinum, possibly. And I haven’t even mentioned the food.
When we came in through the wow-this-is-a-lot-of-yellow entrance and vestibule we were told the wait would be about ten minutes. I gave my cell phone number so the hostess could send me a text when the table was ready. Convenient! Within about seven minutes, we were seated, our drink orders taken and rapidly fulfilled: coffee, delicious and orange juice, pulpy (which is exactly how I love it but if you don’t, I’d mention that to your server). And then the bad part happened. Don’t worry, it gets good again at the end.
Guest and I are seated. We place drink orders, nice ladies sitting next to us pay and leave, we receive our drinks and order our food. About ten minutes has gone by. New couple sits next to us. They wait close to 20 minutes before their drink and food orders are taken. They seem angry. Why does the man have one Apple wireless earbud in his ear? I can’t see both of his ears so maybe there are actually two in there. They ask us what we think the deal is. Collective shrug. Ten more minutes pass. They receive their food and eat it but don’t seem placated. In about 15 minutes they’ve finished. The server gives them some sort of small card (free breakfast?) and apologizes a b(r)unch of times. I wish my hearing was better. A couple more minutes go by and we get our breakfast which is fortunate, because I was beginning to feel teary. Between placing our order and receiving it, 45 minutes passed. The people seated after us were served (and finished) before we even got our food. I acknowledge and accept that when a restaurant has just opened, there are kinks that need some time to work out. If the food was terrible, a lag would be unforgivable.
My Charleston Benedict, an open-faced sandwich featuring southern fried chicken thigh, toasted brioche, sautéed spinach, hickory-smoked bacon, cage-free, organic poached eggs, smoked cheddar hollandaise, was perfectly done. The egg yolk seeped out and coated the crunchy chicken and good quantity of bacon. My side of avocado was the right amount of ripe and the dressed greens the meal came with was a fresh interlude between savory sandwich bites.
My guest ordered the California Dreamin’ sandwich (cage free organic eggs, housemade sausage patty, Monterey jack cheese, smoked cheddar hollandaise, avocado on a toasted pretzel bun) and mostly enjoyed it. She asked for scrambled eggs and got over easy. She ordered greens instead of tater tots and got the tots. When notified, our server promptly returned with greens.
When they get it right, the food at Hatch is good to the salivary glands. You might be there a little longer than planned but since eating at Hatch is like attending an indoor picnic party with mouth-watering wall and accoutrement scenery, that’s not such a bad thing. Sorry about the half-eaten photos. I was so hungry I forgot I had to take them.
Hatch is open seven days a week from 7 a.m. to 3 p.m.
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