In days of yore, my best friend Marie and I would rise on Sunday after an evening of festivities to consume the sweet, sweet fruit of Duncan Hines' loins. Sure it was a bit of caloric gluttony, but our concoctions were good for the soul. Those times were truly divine.
Problem was, my social life and diner-frequenting were temporarily on pause while I adjusted to my new abode. Memories of my good times were becoming like passages in a book. Would I be able to find the same spiritual camaraderie and the overwhelming love of tradition in Madison?
What could I do to resurrect my groove? As my Christmas Eve dinners have always proved, cholesterol really brings people together. So, after a night of playing Taboo 'til the wee hours of the morn, it seemed appropriate to acquire sustenance at the infamous Madison eatery, Bennett's Smut-N-Eggs. Along with four wise men, I ventured forth.
The darkened room. The neon lights. The bras and bustier hanging above the bar. The sweaty cook with the peter hat. The pool-side girl-on-girl action. God, this was just what I needed!
Choosing between the Eggs Benne-dick with smut sauce or the smut muffin was hard -- I do equally enjoy sauces and muffins. And my attentions were more focused on our discussion of what we were giving up for Lent. I broke down and got the sandwich while much of the table decided on the biscuits and gravy. The verdict on Lent is still out -- the ambience made it clear that it is best to keep a firm grasp on some things.
Beyond the pools of goobery gravy goodness, the ramekins overflowing with pancake-lubricating butter, the clear, sticky maple syrup, is the best breakfast accessory of all -- le sausage. The vast quantities of elongated encased meat products in Madison have blown my mind, but none compare to the little guys at Smut-N-Eggs. The sausage was so delectable, it would have been greedy for me not to share.
It is a shame Smut-N-Eggs shall be closing its doors in a week. It is full of things that are finger-and-other-body-part-licking good! As I sat l under the amber glow of outdoor, picnic-table lovin', flanked by shady men, it really felt like I was back home. Madison, this time you hit a grand slam. Hallelujah!