Yep. It’s Huevos Rancheros. Where: Spitfire, 2219 4th Ave., 441-7966. BELLTOWNTime of

Yep. It’s Huevos Rancheros. Where:

Spitfire, 2219 4th Ave., 441-7966. BELLTOWNTime of Entry: You tell me. It was a Sunday afternoon around 1:30 p.m. a few weeks ago. Some sort of playoff game involving the Seahawks was on television. People were acting like it was a pretty big deal. Level of Hangover: I don’t remember. On a scale of 1 to 10, probably somewhere around a 5. I’ve been known to drink a lot of boxed wine, which my liver and soul have become accustomed to, so I feel as if being hungover is a natural state these days. On a brighter note…Staff’s Hangover Level: I’ve never seen a bar so completely filled to the rim on a Sunday morning. A serious NFL playoff game was on TV, the entire place was jam packed with blue jerseys, and our rock star, bright-eyed server had us seated and fed within 15 minutes. AND she did it all while wearing high-heeled boots. She played the best defense of them all that day. I’m dedicating this column to her. The Soak: My eyes were bigger than my stomach this morning (and like most mornings) so I ordered what sounded like the most filling item on the lengthy brunch menu — Huevos Rancheros ($7.25). The dish sounded plentiful: two sunny-side up eggs atop corn tortillas topped with fire roasted salsa served with black beans and Spitfire potatoes. What was delivered to me was a slightly anorexic-looking meal. The tortillas were tiny and completely covered by the eggs. There weren’t as many potatoes or beans as I had hoped, and the entire meal came served with a side of sad looking fruit. For a dish that came out so quickly, everything was perfectly prepared, with the exception of a few underdone potatoes. The eggs were nicely cooked and the tortillas weren’t soggy. I would have liked to have had something to punch up the taste a little, though; my brunch was rather bland. There wasn’t any heat, spice or cheese; nothing that stood out whatsoever. Lucky for me, the meal was at least satisfying. I thought for sure I’d be ordering something else from the menu, but this totally delivered. Eggs turn any sandwich into a ‘hangover’ sandwich. My friend, on the other hand, ordered what I should have ordered, and what I would have, had he not beaten me to the punch. He got himself the ‘Sloppy Pepe’ ($9.50), described as an opened-face hangover sandwich with pulled pork hash, salsa verde and two over-easy eggs. I’d never had that combo before, and the mix of spicy and tangy pork with the eggs was really delicious. We both thought so. This pork-style Sloppy Joe was incredibly substantial, if not a little spendy. Hair of the Dog: We both had a couple of Stellas. Not the best lager in town, but it was the only brew on tap our harried server could remember. The light beer tasted pretty good with our spicy Mexican, actually. Success of the Soak: I left Spitfire extremely full and slightly tipsy. In other words, a very successful soak.


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