Jaki Jean and the 63° Egg

On the 14^th of February, my Omega Son Sam & his girlfriend, the lovely Veronica, took Veronica’s grandmother Carolyn & myself to brunch for Valentine’s Day. 

Sam & Veronica are regular inner looper brunchers.  To understand what that means, you have to know Houston or have lived here.  There is a contingency of people who insist on living “inside the loop” or inside Highway 610 in the inner city areas surrounding downtown.  This has been true as long as I have lived here & no doubt much longer.

Even as a teenager, I gravitated toward those areas – Montrose, the Heights, the Museum District, the Binz, West University, the East End.  My friends & I used to assess our peers strength of character & coolness by whether or not they liked eating at The Hobbit Hole at its original location on Shepherd.  In the day when the kitchen was vegetarian & dominated by yogis from a local community.  I learned to drink Shiner beer at the Hobbit Hole.  Shiner, dark & light, & wine were the only cocktails served back in that day.

When I was divorced, I spent one year in an efficiency apartment outside the loop until  my friend Marguerite Pulley rescued me & introduced me to her friend John Chambless, who owned several rental properties in Montrose

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My life as a single, childless adult was spent inside the loop, loving the ambiance & activity of Montrose & the inner city.   Although all of the inner city areas I loved in my youth have succumbed to gentrification & trends, & favorite pockets of neighborhoods have lost much of the charm of structures built to endure time, the ambiance & activity remain. 

As does the omniscient problem of too many cars with too little available parking.

Joining my son Sam & Veronica & Veronica’s grandmother for brunch was a return to what I feel are my Houston roots.  It pleases me in a way I don’t quite understand that Sam is firmly embedded in the inner city I love.  Sam’s apartment is in a quadraplex across from the Menil Museum & Rothko Chapel.  A location I envy.

Sam & Veronica took us to Common Bond Café & Bakery for brunch.  These two inner looper brunchers have explored every brunch in the inner city & have very informed ideas about what works & what does not work.  Since I have experienced brunch with them before, I felt confident in their choice of Common Bond.

We stood in line just long enough to peruse the menu & make our choices.  An interesting menu that left me nervous.  Except for a decadent French toast dish, most of the major main dishes were dominated by meat.

Before you give your order, you pass an amazing collection of breads & rolls & the largest, most decadent croissants & pastries you have ever encountered.    Then you walk past the desserts.

I am not a major carnivore – although two of my favorite food memories involve beef tender & filet mignon.  When Sam asked me what I wanted, I told him I was leaning toward the yogurt & berry & homemade jam parfait.  I did not mention that I really wanted one of those giant chocolate croissants.

As we discussed the menu & viewed the pastries, Veronica’s grandmother Carolyn asked about the 63° egg.

Apparently, Veronica explained, a 63° egg is supposed to be the perfect temperature at which to cook a perfect egg.

Sam insisted that I order something more substantial, that I not worry about the price because it was his treat.  I wasn’t worried about the price – I had that covered.  

But I ordered a brunch item with a 63° egg.  I had to know if it was the perfect egg.

Beef & grits:  hereford beef, burgundy wine, cheesy gristmill grits, pearl onions, mushrooms, 63° egg. 

We did order one of those giant chocolate croissants & a hazelnut chocolate croissant to share.  Those, & the selection of daily breads – were divine.

All of our entrees arrived in oversized bowls – Sam & Carolyn ordered the decadent French toast & both Veronica & I had the beef & grits.

In my bowl were grits seeping with the beef broth, tender beef, pearl onions & mushrooms & the most beautiful poached egg I have ever seen.

I remarked that I was not sure I wanted to eat it – it was just too lovely.

I did eat it – after sampling the best grits I have ever encountered, tender beef, fragrant mushrooms & sweet little onions.  I ate the 63° egg & it was magnificent.

Since my return from this experience, I have spent too many hours researching & learning about the 63° egg.  And planning how to replicate it.

I have a feeling that the 63° egg is not the last gift my son Sam & Veronica will give me.

PS:  There are fabulous macaroons!