Tom's Restaurant
I went to Tom's Restaurant in Brooklyn on Saturday for brunch, but I can't be entirely sure that the following even happened — it was such a perfect, New York experience that I may as well have been dreaming the entire time. When I got there there was already a line out the door, and around the building. But more importantly, I also got there as soon as the free pancakes came out. I had read enough reviews to know that Tom's is famous for feeding its waiting customers, but I still don't think I was prepared.
The full-sized pancakes (with syrup!) were carried by who is surely the world's nicest older gentleman. He looked a little like my grandpa (bald) and he was wearing glasses and a pale pink tie. He was so incredibly sweet from the very beginning — he looked at me, alone and last in line, and said "last, but not least!" — and before I knew it he was back out with full cups of coffee for everyone. As we passed cream and sugar through the line, I already understood where all those five star reviews were coming from — and I hadn't even made it inside of the restaurant yet. Before that would happen, the man made his rounds once more, this time with a heaping bowl of strawberries and fresh whipped cream, and asked multiple times if I would like more coffee.
Once inside the door (and when there were still several people ahead of me), the man asked, "So, your friends are still not here?" When I replied "Nope, it's just me," he immediately said "Oh my gosh. I am so upset. You come with me," and led me (by holding my hand) to a seat at the counter. He was extremely apologetic that I had waited so long in line (you know, the one where they fed me and gave me free coffee) and told the waiter to take "extra good care of me." Somehow, I think he would have done that anyway, but he certainly did after that.
I ordered more coffee and the 2x2x2 (bacon, eggs, lemon ricotta pancakes) and it came out faster than I could have ever imagined. I'm more of a waffle girl usually, but they are famous for their pancakes, and rightly so. They were the best pancakes I've ever eaten, and my only regret is that I was too full to properly finish them.
When I was about halfway through my meal, the older man came back and insisted that he felt terrible that I had had to wait so long, and instructed my waiter to give me a chocolate egg cream, on the house. I resisted asking him to marry me, and instead thanked him profusely and waited eagerly for my (very first!) egg cream. Turns out, egg creams are as gross as they sound (really watery, slightly carbonated and chocolate milk-esque?) but I drank it all because I couldn't risk hurting the feelings of the world's sweetest and most generous man.
Sometime between pancakes and egg cream he also came around offering "fresh orange slices" and I decided then that I never wanted to leave this bizarro world of free food and extreme kindness that I had happened upon. It was also about that time that I realized that sitting right next to the coffee pots was a huge stack of my "happy to serve you" cups — you know, the ones I've been on a mad hunt for (in the wild) ever since I first came to the city. It was a variety that I hadn't found yet (I'm collecting them all!), so I of course got one to go.
My entire bill came to $11, and if you've been keeping track that was for: three cups of coffee, three pancakes, two scrambled eggs, a mound of bacon, strawberries and cream, two fresh orange slices and a huge chocolate egg cream. When the older man came back at the end of my meal and lamented that I hadn't finished my pancakes, I insisted that they were amazing, but that I was just incredibly full. He told me once again how sorry he was that I waited so long (the torture!) and when I told him he was "the nicest," he retorted, "No, you're the nicest. Unfortunately our nices just didn't cross this time," but I assured him they would, next time. Then I left a $9 tip on my $11 bill, which wasn't nearly enough but was all I could realistically afford — Tom's made me long for the day that I'm rich enough to tip absurd amounts for absurdly awesome service, but I can only hope my 82% tip accurately conveyed my appreciation.
Seriously, if you're ever anywhere near Prospect Heights in Brooklyn (or even if you're not), make a trip to Tom's. You might even see me there, since there will most definitely be a lot of "next times" for me and those lemon ricotta pancakes.
