Sundays are made for brunch in Chicago.
As I may have reiterated in a post before, the concept of ‘brunching’ is strange to me. Its conceptual mean that is an action exhibited by thousands of people every weekend in the city.
When I was younger, my Sundays were dedicated to the church. 8 a.m. till about 12:30 p.m. My grandfather was an officer in the church, so I was there ALL DAY. After service, we did not brunch; we hardly ate out, we had supper as a family at home. We relaxed, watched football or basketball, slept, and ate a little more, but we never brunched. So when I moved to Chicago, the whole concept threw me off. Mostly, because it wasn’t something that I had experience in my own home.
Today’s brunch was a little different. Today I dined at Peach’s Restaurant in Bronzeville.
Peach’s Restaurant sits on 47th and King Drive in the historic Bronzeville neighborhood. An area of Chicago that was once known for being the home to elite members of the black community. After years of economic changes to the region, the community has become much of a commerce desert. It may seem as if Bronzeville has little to offer, as many residents find themselves making their ways to neighboring communities like Hyde Park and the South Loop. However, Peach’s Restaurant provides an experience that exceeds an outsiders expectations and paves the way for other opportunities to take place in the once prominent neighborhood.
I was accompanied on my Sunday brunch with my lovely friend Toi. We were greeted by a young waitress who told us it would be a couple of minutes at a booth or table. After noticing another pair take a seat at the empty bar in the back of the house, we also followed suit and made our way to the back as well. The restaurant has an open layout, with full windows and bright bits of orange to make the interior pop. We were greeted by our server Andrew, a cheerful guy who reminds me of this quirky guy I used to date. He gave us his recommendations and went over the selection of house specials. The menu was straightforward to read and had just enough options.
I decide on the Peach’s house special salmon patties with grits and a side of white toast, a meal my family might make for me on one of my random visits home, while Toi chose the catfish Po’ Boy and house potatoes. We both sipped on Peach’s Palmers as we spilled the tea of our own lives while waiting for our food to arrive. The food came out fast enough. I say that because personally if the food comes out too fast at a restaurant, it gives me the impression that the items are reheated in a microwave or something to that effect. This was not the case.
We both agreed that our meals were delicious and well suited for the price we paid. I devoured my plate, while Toi took some of her portions to go.
Peach’s Restaurant created that ‘homey’ experience that many places do not have. The ‘homey’ feeling that I have been missing since moving out on my own. The restaurant felt like Sunday suppers with my own family and was filled with the people who have sat at the table with me. In the restaurant today, I saw the older gentleman sipping his coffee who remind me of my grandfather sipping his coffee, the sharply dressed group of older women who remind me of my aunties, and the young and charismatic servers who favor my cousins. The atmosphere, the neighborhood, and its guests, truly created a sense of Sunday suppers with my own family.
Rated Haute.
