Restaurant Review - Over Easy

West Egg Cafe, having ditched its Jake’s Ice Cream franchise agreement, is now promoting itself as an egg-centric, breakfast-all-day, Wi-Fi hot spot cafe. The surroundings are West End warehouse chic, and the coffee is top-shelf Batdorf & Bronson. The food? It ranges from passable to pretty good.

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West Egg Cafe shares the brushed-steel and concrete aesthetic of the nearby West End develop-ment that is home to tony Bacchanalia and Belvedere, but on a different scale. West Egg feels raw and unfinished, as if its garage space were opened as a cafe without a single finishing touch. A fireplace in the center is the room’s warmest element. Keep your eyes on your plate if you’re a neat freak — cleanliness can be a bit of an issue here. Dust bunnies lurk in every corner, a wall near the espresso machine is splattered with coffee and crumbs fester on tabletops.

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Surly souls: Servers are invariably young and hip, if moody. A drop-in for coffee turned into a run-in with hipster attitude: A simple request for no foam on my latte was greeted with two minutes of vigorous eye rolling and muttering. The cashier ringing up my lunch ticket was pleasant, almost chipper, while a cook swore and slammed pans around, grunting in lieu of answering questions. Happily, there was no trace of ‘tude to be found during brunch.

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Triple-decker disappointment: A triple-decker grilled cheese ($5.95) was a soggy, processed mess reminiscent of school cafeteria lunches. The $1.75 price is a bit much for the addition of a single, sorry strip of bacon, especially when it’s the cheap, paper-thin sort. The sandwich wasn’t grilled so much as mashed together and set in a barely hot skillet for 30 seconds, and an accompanying salad consisted of wilted spring mix with a runny dressing of unsalted buttermilk, parsley and Hungarian paprika. A grilled chicken club ($6.95) was similarly off-track, featuring a dry, stringy chicken breast with bread sopping wet from an oozing slab of mealy tomato. The vegetable soup served on the side was watery and brown.

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Brunch munch: West Egg’s busy weekend brunch is a welcome surprise. Servers are grinning, caffeinated and ready to please. The blue plate — with eggs, bacon, grits and a biscuit — brings simple satisfaction ($4.95). Ordered over easy, the eggs arrive perfectly so, with fluid, bright orange yolks primed for sopping with hunks of fluffy biscuit. Grits are so buttery, rich and thick you have to suck them off the spoon. The bacon is exactly the way I like it — cooked just until crisp, with a tiny bit of soft fat at the ends.

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A black bean cake special ($6.95) is hearty yet light, and spiked with just the right amount of cumin. Its accompanying eggs, like the blue plate, are flawlessly prepared. What’s advertised as a spicy Cajun remoulade isn’t spicy, but does add a creamy, piquant edge to the dish.

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Going to West Egg is a bit like adopting a stray cat. There’s no telling if you’ll be on the receiving end of a sweet nuzzle or an unexpected swat and hiss. But approach slowly with your hand amiably extended for a tip-jar deposit, and you might be in for a treat.