Let me start this post out by saying that it took some dedication to do brunch this weekend, wookciples. The King's presence was required at a soundcheck at 10:30 on Sunday morning, but - knowing that sound, like a coat, can always be checked, I headed to Fuel around noon.
Only in Charlottesville could could this be one of the several gas stations that allow to gas up and grab some grape leaves and an oyster po' boy - for the dog. Fuel stands out from these other establishments because it also houses a fine-dining bistro and wine bar and is owned by the richest porn star in the world.
Don't believe me? Turn 18 and click here. Then click here.
Same chick, dude.
Anyways...
I met up with (and when I say "met up with", I mean my stomach had already canibalized itself and my intestines where about to poach off of the table next to me) some friends, including High Five - the greatest and most prolific high fiver in history, and a veteran of the wookie brunch - and the girl that has single-handedly set the standard for the "3/4 length skirt with tiny little ironic running shoes" look. Believe me.
(Bloody: 2 of 5) I ordered my "Southern Bloody Mary" with Stoli, but doubt that's how it came as it wasn't listed on the bill. (More on the bill later) I don't speak Snob, (which after the experience, I can safely assume is the native dialect) but apparently "Southern" means "boring". Came with a lime, with the top covered in pepper. No citrus. No horseradish. Just worcester and tomato juice and vodka with some pepper and a celery stalk in a lowball glass, which is whack. All natural, and if nothing else - highly drinkable.
(Benedict: 3.5 of 5) Well-poached egg, and good ham (which the waitress was nice enough to remind me came with the dish - Thanks, Shirley!....). Also, a nice lemon-y hollandaise. Not enough of it, though. Now, I'm sure that they make theirs at Fuel with the eggs of a golden f*cking chicken and pepper ground by the hands of authentic Indonesian child laborers, but I don't want to have to ask the waitress for more. (I make High Five do it)
Kind of a cool menu outside of the benedict. I will definitely be adding pesto to my scrambled eggs next time I eat breakfast. At home. And buy eggs. Probably should figure out where I'm gonna live...but seriously...pesto with the eggs.
(Service: 2 of 5) In the annals of truly clueless conversation I can tell you that our interaction with the server was history-shattering:
Having seen grits on the menu, I immediately asked if I could get them with my benedict.
"Of course."
High Five's special lady friend wanted the green eggs and ham, which came with the grits, and was politely told that they were out. Well, could she substitute over-easy eggs for the green eggs and have the dish that way? Did they have the grits and everything else?
"Of course."
They say that there's no better way to learn a foreign language than through immersion. (Don't they?) Well, I was up to my ears in Snob, so now I know that "Of course" = "No"
So - Special Lady Friend of High Five (SLFoHF) had to get something completely different. At this point, High Five and I, both getting the benedict, ask if the dish is served with anything. Most specifically, the potatoes.
"I don't know." (She's bi-lingual!)
Except for the fact that your job as server is to be the conduit, the communicator if you will, between the kitchen and the customer, I'm still trying to figure out why our waitress didn't:
a) run back to the kitchen and figure it out for us OR
b) KNOW
Fine. We ask to have the potatoes regardless of whether they were served with the dish or not.
They weren't. We didn't know this, as apprently there is no word, or words, with which to express this sentiment in Snob. We didn't find out until...
(Price: 1 of 5) ....the bill came. $3.00 a piece (?!?) for, as High Five (who is a chef at a 4-star restaraunt) said, unseasoned potatoes? If you're going to jack a check more than a dollar or two for an a la carte item, you'd better let the table know. Even if they asked for it.
The entrees were each $9, which is a solid brunch price. $6.50 for a rail bloody is $1.50 too much.
$2.50 for coffee. I'm going to lose my f*cking mind with this coffee thing. I know the guy that brews all this coffee. He's a great guy. The coffee is really good. But more than $1.50 for coffee (which the two ladies with us informed me is how much they charge at Michael's Bistro, which is wonderful, but doesn't serve brunch) is ridiculous. I'm at the restaraunt and I want coffee. I'm still going to get it. I'm just never going to come back.
(Overall: 1.5 of 5) By the time brunch was over, I was so horrified by the imcompitence that had just paid for, and High Five's Momento-style inability to remeber every five minutes that he had just asked us all if we wanted to sleep in an air-conditioned theatre with Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, which was playing at the beautiful and newly-renovated Paramount Theatre that I could hardly muster the strength to take my wookie-sized nap and rock the people's socks off at what everyone there was calling "the 4th of July party this year!!!!!!"
I think that's because it was still the 3rd.
Fuel is located on Avon St. next to the Wachovia next to the Avon St. Bridge
Phone: 434.220.0864
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