The poached egg in a Benedict is there for texture, not as

The poached egg in a Benedict is there for texture, not as a load-bearing flavor; its lush silkiness is what makes the brunch perennial so sybaritic. The effect is particularly ohhhh-inducing in the Row House Cafe’s version, where it acts a velvety foil to the salty snap of prosciutto; in turn, the fat in the latter doubles the richness (much more than does the traditional Canadian bacon). This opposites-attract thing duplicates the allure of the Row House itself, set as it is among the gleaming, coldly virginal new buildings in gentrifying South Lake Union: The three linked cottages, wooden and ramshackle, with a creaky porch hidden by an eclectic array of greenery, seem to have been transplanted whole from one of Florida’s keys, and not one of the posher ones, either.