If breakfast was a bear hug
Photos by David Day
Olive Garden may have coined the slogan, “When you’re here, you’re family,” but walking up the front stoop of the house-turned-breakfast-joint, Sorella’s in Jamaica Plain, I keep thinking how that description fits this favorite neighborhood brunch destination perfectly.
After the last week, I’m emotionally and physically spent, exhausted from late nights following the news and Twitter—and Sorella’s is a warm, comforting, and bright escape from the headlines, like a big bear hug.
Downstairs at Sorella's
The diner downstairs has been open since 1983, but the upstairs is open every weekend for brunch, featuring a menu more like a book with more than 30 creative omelet concoctions and award-winning Gingerbread Blueberry Hazelnut Pancakes that will save your soul.
Bruce, their Sunday morning Santa Claus, greets every customer that walks in with a big smile and hello. He seats us in the dining room with the big bay window overlooking Centre Street, the sun shining on the hanging flower pots, paintings, and dozens of hand-written signs on the walls listing omelets designed by neighborhood regulars and staff.
Each one has a different name: Dima’s, Lucy’s, Toni’s, Stefanio’s … the nuanced ingredients a tribute to each individual’s personality.
“Breakfast with Menino,” we joke, as we’re seated at a table next to a framed picture of Mayor Menino and Antoinette Elias, who opened the restaurant with her sister Ellie over 20 years ago.
“Baby Come Back” by Player is flirting softly from an old bookshelf stereo next to a standing lamp in the corner. I sit back and exhale: safety at last.
After scouring the menu for at least 15 minutes, I decide on “Vincent’s” omelet, which Bruce tells me was created by and named after the 72-year-old guy who works there on weekdays. It’s made with fresh garlic, basil, mint, chives, and a buttload of veggies: broccoli, sun dried tomatoes, pea pods, and spinach. Then a twist: raspberries, sour cream and harvarti cheese, topped with sprouts. It was a tough choice between that and the “Portuguese”, with spicy Andouille sausage, ricotta and mozzarella, black olives, mushrooms, and tomatoes, topped with salsa. Not to mention the breakfast burritos stuffed with jalapenos, mushrooms, peppers, guacamole, rice and beans, and the million different lox sandwiches.
“My aunt doesn’t sleep at night,” Bruce tells me, referring to Ellie, when I ask how they come up with so many unique combos.
Ellie and Bruce in front of the pancake chalk board
“We get fresh fruit and veggies delivered daily from the produce market. All of the bread is homemade, baked by my aunt every week. There are 12 to 13 different types. We use it for the French toast.”
I order my comrade to get some sort of French toast (they have options like “Sesame, Strawberry, Kiwi & Apricot” and “Apple, Banana & Honey”), and he picks the “Raisin Cinnamon & Vanilla.”
Fifteen minutes later, our table is laden with piles of steaming food that smells so good I almost weep.
My omelet is as thick as a wrestler’s bicep. I cut it in half and the veggies spill out: bright green spinach and giant whole heads of broccoli take over my plate. Strings of Havarti cheese stretch from my fork to my lips with each bite and
we don’t talk for a good 10 minutes.
I look up and see my comrade smothering two-inch thick, hearty-as-hell cinnamon toast in real Vermont maple syrup, his plate covered in raisins.
Ellie comes hurrying up from the kitchen and says in a strong Italian accent, “Oh geez, oh geez, I had to put my lipstick on!’ We snap a photo of her and Bruce in front of the pancake chalkboard before she tells me, “You ask Bruce questions, honey I gotta get back downstayas!” and rushes away.
We sit back down and my plate is still full.
I officially feel a lot better.
“I will not let this omelet defeat me,” I say, and we dig back in.
SORELLA’S. 386 CENTRE ST. #388, JAMAICA PLAIN.
