Philadelphia Weekly

Ida Mae's Bruncherie
2302 E. Norris St. 215.426.4209
Cuisine: Diner.
Hours: Tues.-Sun., 7am-3pm.
Prices: $3-$8.50.
Sound advice: Close quarters.
Atmosphere: Cozy cottage cafe.
Service: Friendly.
Food: Down-home dandy.

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Brunch gets a bad rap.

There are the long, long waits at places known for their tasty, comforting brunches like Morning Glory or Sabrina's. Hungry patrons craving coffee, sustenance and relief from a thumping hangover glare at already satiated diners lingering over their frittatas or granola.

Waiters loathe brunches. They're often hungry and hungover themselves, tired from a late Saturday-night shift and tweaked out from the three double espressos they had before you even thought about leaving the house. It's not a pretty combination.

The Oxford Encyclopedia of Food and Drink in America has this to say about the 19th-century invention of brunch:

"For those of the leisure class who were inclined to sleep late, a hybrid meal called 'brunch' became popular. Eaten in late morning or early afternoon, brunch could consist of breakfast foods such as eggs and waffles, or could be made up of heartier foods such as would normally be served at lunch. Alcoholic beverages made with breakfast juices (mimosas, bloody marys and screwdrivers) became a standard accompaniment. Brunch became a meal for relaxing on weekends, whether eaten in a restaurant or enjoyed with guests at home."

Brunch hasn't changed much: Enjoyed by the "inclined to sleep late" leisure class? Check. Breakfast or lunch foods available? Check. Alcoholic beverages? Check, please.

Philadelphia now has a bruncherie for every day of the week (except Monday). Ida Mae's is a cozy spot in Fishtown that serves breakfast and lunch with an Irish accent and a local spin. It's an adorable name and a cute concept--neither diner nor cafe, but bruncherie--and the breakfast food is damn fine even if the lunch options are a bit less so. It's also delightfully affordable.

Judging from recent visits, the neighborhood seems to have taken to Ida Mae's. There's a pretty even balance of old-timers and hipsters bellying up to the diner-style counter or hanging out at tables in the tiny back room, which is cheerfully accented like a tidy cottage with stained glass, white trim and potted flowers.

Lest you miss the Hibernian influence, the shamrocks splashed all over the menu will clue you in. You'll see it in the food as well, starting with a full Irish breakfast packed with all the fried essentials and porky necessities: fried eggs, rashers (chewy Irish bacon that resides somewhere in the land between Canadian bacon and ham), sausage links, a crispy dab of white pudding, sauteed mushrooms, wedges of potato and soda breads, a ramekin of dessert-sweet baked beans and a roasted tomato. This breakfast platter is Ireland's only worthwhile contribution to world cuisine--and I mean that as a great compliment.

Not to say the foodstuff of other cultures isn't represented. There's French toast made with challah. Vegans are accommodated with a tofu scramble. There's a wonderfully zaftig breakfast burrito stuffed with toothsome black beans, scrambled eggs, cheddar cheese, a creamy avocado sauce and a zippy salsa. There's also that noteworthy representative of military cuisine, creamed chipped beef. Ida Mae's version is especially tasty and it's oh-so-very good going down.

Lunch items are not quite as exciting. An open-faced sandwich on pumpernickel, nicknamed "the black Russian" for its inclusion of Russian dressing, is a tower of vegetable power. There are mushrooms, cucumbers, roasted peppers, red onion and an unwieldy pile of pea shoots arranged with Swiss cheese. It's fresh and simple, but no more than that. Slender housemade potato chips are enticing to look at but taste like they've been sitting around too long.

A traditional ploughman's lunch of mellow aged Welsh cheddar, tangy Danish blue cheese, sweet-and-sour pickle relish, sliced onions and apple is made all the better by the inclusion of homemade brown bread, so humble and hearty you might feel obliged to run out and actually do some ploughing. I wish only there were more of it (and more of the delicious pickle) to handle the generous quantity of cheese.

If I lived in Fishtown, where places like Ida Mae's are currently few and far between, I'd be brunching there every day of the week.