What is eggs Benedict?
Teresa's in Brooklyn Heights is where I first ordered eggs Benedict. I'd been cooking it at home from scratch, inspired by its description in a novel. But then came Sunday brunches at Teresa's with a captivating new friend, a Polish-American woman who favored this Polish diner. I'll always remember our long talks at this bright, busy restaurant's utilitarian tables, the crowd's conversation bouncing noisily off the blond wood walls.
The $9.50 eggs Benedict brunch comes with a choice of mimosa, screwdriver, bloody Mary, or seabreeze. The small mimosas are actually delicious, with fresh pulpy juice and plenty of good champagne, a strawberry perched on the cold glass's rim. Coffee or tea is also included, as is a fruit cup or a cup of soup. Teresa's offers some soups as staples and rotates other choices. I always go for the succulent, spicy tripe. Forgo a $1.50 side order of bacon in favor of a $3 order of grilled kielbasa, dense with flavor.
The eggs Benedict is a wash, unfortunately. The hollandaise sauce tastes chemically bitter, born of a powder packet, and the yolk from the underpoached eggs turns the ungarnished dish into a soupy, sick-looking ocean of bright and dark yellows that drip off your fork. Swimming in your plate are grilled pieces of plain sandwich ham, not Canadian bacon, and the English muffins aren't toasted enough to ward off their soaking.
Service is friendly, but you can wait an eternity for a waiter follow-up, especially when dining at the sidewalk tables. Look out for regular coffee being poured into cups containing decaf; indeed, wonder whether the busy staff knows which is in their unmarked carafe.
Rest rooms: Clean.
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