Murphy's Review

Murphy's is located in the Virginia Highland community in Atlanta.  I've been a patron for at least ten years or longer.  Breakfast, lunch and dinner - the food is consistently good.  The neighborhood is very quaint and comprised of old bungalow homes and a lot of boutique shops.  One of the bungalows used to be an independent bookstore.   I would stay in there for hours with its creaky door which summoned the owner - a very sweet, creaky-lookin' man.  Of course, it's closed now and I always think about it when I visit this part of town. 

I met my friend Karen on a Saturday morning at 9 a.m. and we both were able to park right in front of the restaurant.  It is in an intown location that is very popular, so coming later in the day means parallel parking and some walking. 

Just outside of Murphy's is a marquee with a map of the community. 

Murphy's is  rustic, cozy and warm.   I love the amber hues and exposed brick throughout the restaurant.  The rustic feel from the inside extends to the outside seating area where we sat.  Not all restaurants do this successfully as their outside seating is more of an afterthought. 

  

We both selected the Portobello Frittata.  For the first time, in a long time, I actually made my decision quickly.  I've had very few frittatas in my life.  It was wonderful.  The portobello mushrooms, goat cheese, sun-dried tomatoes and  basil pesto were a great combination.  The frittata was served alone.  I ordered a side of cheddar grits.  This was before I knew that they bring out a basket with warmed delectables from the bakery.  In the spirit of a little restraint, I tried a piece of a scone that was in the basket and it was divine.  I glanced at the other items in the basket.  I quickly covered it up, pushed it aside and looked away. 

The cheddar grits were delicious. They were very cheesy and creamy. I think I've ordered cheddar grits  a lot lately. I'll keep that in mind next time around.

Karen ordered the same frittata but with egg whites.  She enjoyed her meal.  She showed a lot of restraint and did not order a side item or rummage through the bakery basket. 

Murphy's brunch is very good and I would recommend it.  The coffee was also good and hot.  However, I really like their dinner menu.  I remember ordering pan seared trout when I was there years ago and it was amazing. 

In this day and time, websites are very important.   Murphy's website is classy, user-friendly and a good representation of their business.  I've been to good restaurants with bad websites.  It makes me wonder about the owner and their business acumen.

Murphy's  is located in a historic community that offers good food and  shopping.  It would be a cool place to hang out for a couple of hours.  The first hour you would spend eating and the next hour you can check out the shops in the neighborhood.  After that, I'm not sure if there is much more to do. 

Sunday Mornings

So, it is Sunday morning. And it is quiet. I’m in my bedroom and the only sound I hear is the cool air coming through the ceiling vent. When you live in Atlanta, and it is July, that is one of the most beautiful sounds to hear.

Most Sunday mornings for most of my life was spent in church. At times, I’ve wondered if I might have been born in church even if my birth certificate says some hospital in Baltimore. Somewhere in my late thirty’s, my church attendance had severely fallen off. If I had the ability to step out of myself and really see myself objectively, I would have seen this coming. Years before that, I had stopped hanging onto every word that the preacher said, and more importantly, realized that nothing bad happened to me if I didn’t. Obviously, this would affect what one would do on a Sunday morning.

This particular morning I feel good. The last few days, I’ve been upset off and on by a variety of happenings not worthy of the stroke of a pen. Ok, who am I kidding? I took my pen and wrote all about it -angrily, aggressively, hopelessly and tearfully. On and on I wrote, but at some point, I turned the corner. I had to. Just let it go.

When I wake up feeling this good, I try to hold on to it as long as possible. After all, it is Sunday morning. I don’t have to be bothered today. I can easily put myself in time out away from people, place and things –a joy easily afforded to me as one who is single. Of course, this also means staying away from all forms of media with its weird interpretations of life. So why not cook, write or both? John Gunther said that all happiness begins with a leisurely breakfast.

This Sunday morning, I fix French toast and bacon. I make the French toast from the wheat bread I just bought from the DeKalb Farmer’s Market. The bacon, I cook in the oven which makes life easier for me and enhances its flavor. I top the French toast with fresh blueberries, half a sliced banana and some cinnamon maple syrup. I pour a little orange juice into a small glass. I brew some Kenyan coffee, also from the farmer’s market.

I sit at my kitchen table in silence and slowly enjoy every morsel. I look at my balcony. I should get some pansies for the balcony planters. I’ve had this thought since March. There are a number of planters sitting on my deck. Some are stacked and empty and others are full of dirt or full of weeds. It’s an organized mess. I shift my eyes away from that project because I am in time out. I look at this tree that begins just outside my back door and whose branches fully extend over into my balcony. It then continues up to the third floor and obstructs my view of the courtyard from my bedroom window.

On many Sunday mornings I’ve thought about this tree. I remember when the tree didn’t and couldn’t reach the second floor. When I moved into this new community over five years ago, I was aware of the tree but didn’t think much about it. It was nothing to me. It was just like all of the other trees in my community. I would often think how sparse, how insufficient and how poor the greenery of this place. They should have done a better job in planning. But that was my perspective then and I was fully ignorant. I didn’t take into consideration time and it is always a great revealer.

So, it is Sunday morning. It isn’t so quiet anymore. I’m back in my bedroom. There is the sound of the air from overhead, the laundry rhythmically swishing back and forth, and of course, the talking tree.