Roommate Rachel & I discussed monogamy today. Heavy stuff.
Decidedly, monogamy in any romantic relationship is a good thing.
Monogamy in eating out is not.
Hold up… maybe I’m thinking of monotony.
Yeah, monotony might be a more appropriate word here.
Either way… kinda works.
Point is, Athens has a stellar food scene. You know this. I’ve raved about it. But like too many sad souls, I’ve fallen into my comfort cracks running around the same restaurant rings.
Thus, one of my shiny new goals is start hitting up all of the Athens signature eateries I have yet to frequent.
Stop #1: Mama’s Boy.
Long have I heard tell of this iconic breakfast destination’s bodacious, mouth of the south, cathead biscuits.
I love biscuits. Especially when their large and fluffy enough to take a nap on… why haven’t we been here before now?
Better late than never.
Woah yes, so much better.
Even though the interior is totes chic and presh with cool lighting fixtures and junk, it’s probably best that my party was seated on the back porch.
Not that we particularly enjoy the scent of dumpster in the wind, but it was crowded indoors… as you will always find it on a weekend mornin… and we we’re down-right uncouth.
W-hile we waited on our food, we talked about poop. That’s all. Just poo poo.
Like you don’t.
Upon receiving our breakfast, the three of us shared in one of those intense flavorgasms.
Seriously, we didn’t speak in comprehensible dialect for the first few mouthloads. Just mmmmmmmmmmmsss.
Mama’s Boy has one of those deliciously terrible menus where you want everything on it. Not just like… “oh that sounds good.”
No. Like, I want it.
Obvi, the large, ugly, downy light biscuits are the bomb. Don’t leave without one. Or Two. Sweet poppy seed butter and bright vibrant jam put those suckers over the edge.
My company and I split a half-order of Georgia Peach French Toast as a starter. It might have been a fantastic idea… shocker. Whopping-thick cuts of egg-drench bread fried crisp and stuffed with a vivacious peachy filling, garnished with pecans, whipped cream and bathed in maple. Oh hey lovely.
Everyone’s eggs were prepped to perfection. I can personally recommend the vegetable scrambler… get your goat cheese on. Uhh yes.
Bacon= hardy, thick-cut, pork glory. They done the name of bacon proud.
Now, what really impressed me about my Mama’s Boy plate was… everything. But in particular, Mama knows how to whip out grits. These aren’t the bland gritty grits you that sit all rubber-like on most breakfast platters. No sir/ma’am, these grits illustrate exactly why the south will rise again.
I’m talking velvety smooth, creamy comfort grub at it’s most pristine.
In short, if you’re trying slap an ear-to-ear, taste-good, feel-good grin across your chubby facial cheeks… get your sweet little rear cheeks over to Mama’s Boy.
Sure, there’s plenty of joints around town that are nothing but archaic hype, but Mama’s Boy ain’t one of them. There’s a reason this unpretentious eatery stands as an Athenian food landmark. Actually, there’s a lot of reasons.
Try sophisticated southern classics, courteously genial staff and an air of easy charm.
Yeah buddy, good stuff.
** PS… word to the wise, don’t park in the vacant lot next door. You will regret it.