Rarely can I resist a hearty breakfast. The sizzle of pancake batter crisping on the griddle seduces me. The smoky scent of bread slices nestled in the toaster comforts me. Though some consider it unrefined, I find the fusion of tangy ketchup and scrambled eggs a scrumptious synthesis.
Whatever its origin, my affinity for breakfast knows no bounds; it defies mealtime conventions and stretches stomach capacity. It was out of character, then, for me to pass up Burgundy Brooks’ “Country Breakfast” in favor of its “Deli-Style Lunch.” Was I feeling the effects of this recent heat wave?
On paper, the lunch offerings didn’t trigger my salivation reflex. Veggie wrap, club sandwich, Reuben—the menu read like a template for any average American hoagie shop. But what the names lacked in flair the sandwiches made up for in substance. When the waitresses emerged from the kitchen, they carried out sandwiches that had shed their textual cocoons and been transformed into something edible and incredible. That afternoon, Burgundy Brooks’ sandwich arsenal delivered a historic blow to breakfast in the battle for my appetite.
Apparently the sandwich spectacle had proved influential for us all, as my mom, dad and I all decided to order one. My mom debated whether to pick chips, potato salad or pickles as her side dish of choice. I pointed out that she wouldn’t have to make that difficult decision, as all three sides were included with her $6.95 sandwich. Perusing the menu further, I noticed that the word “homemade” recurred over 30 times.
From-scratch baking and cooking are staple features of Burgundy Brooks and a major draw for its customers. Otherwise, owner C.J. Champagne-Hill would be in bed at midnight instead of in the kitchen, kneading dough and beating eggs to prepare for the morning rush. By sunrise C.J. has churned out racks of fresh bread for purchase: country white, cinnamon swirl, oat molasses, honey wheat and rye, plus the daily special, which varies from the likes of pepperoni cheddar to cranberry pecan. I recommend the oat molasses, a versatile loaf that can support savory sandwich fixings or a drizzle of honey or jam. The variety of Burgundy Brooks’ breads may account for the popularity of its French toast; customers can choose which sort of loaf they’d like coated with batter and slathered with syrup.
The pastry case can perk up the groggiest of morning grumps; its glass pane is plastered with neon post-its designating the muffins, donuts and danishes inside, all freshly baked. Adjacent is another case just like it that packs more sweet treats. The whoopee pie I sampled was a whopping portion of whipped vanilla goodness, more cream than frosting, snuggled between two moist pillows of chocolate. The cupcake I consumed reached its climax with the mountain of peanut butter frosting and the shower of chocolate and peanut butter chips at its apex. Fresh from the oven and free of preservatives, Burgundy Brooks’ breads, pastries, quiches and pies are responsible for this quaint country store’s success.
But this homemade quality isn’t surprising in a restaurant where knickknacks abound, antiques are sold and a shabby-chic cabinet unit doubles as a condiment station. Stepping into Burgundy Brooks is like taking a step back in time and sitting down to an old-fashioned family meal at Grandma’s house. Wandering eyes will find whimsical plaques hung around the store contributing to the comfy country ambiance. Informality is the cornerstone, from the “Specials” menu in a barely legible scrawl to the cheeky tin pails plopped on each table: caddies for the coffee creamers. The dining atmosphere is casual, but polishing off a meal at Burgundy Brooks requires serious stamina.
Though French in its robust ‘go?t’ and its liberal use of sauce, my cordon bleu sandwich didn’t qualify as classic cuisine fran?aise. Melted Swiss cheese oozed out of a fresh, buttery croissant after coating two juicy ham steaks piled atop a grilled chicken breast. Unfortunately, the spicy sweetness of the honey mustard balanced some of the saltiness, but it flooded the sandwich, drowning the meat’s natural flavors.
Refreshingly crisp, Burgundy Brooks’ homemade coleslaw escapes the soggy fate of many a mayo-based salad and actually lightens the meal. My mom nibbled nostalgically on the potato salad, a cool bed of spuds blanketed by a simple, velvety dressing enriched with hardboiled yolks, a dish reminiscent of her own mom’s recipe. The only disappointment was the potato chips: ordinary Lays, no original recipe.
Along with the signature sandwiches, salads and grinders on the regular lunch menu, Burgundy Brooks chalks up daily specials that fluctuate according to the weather forecast and C.J.’s whim. On colder days, customers can expect comfort foods like meatloaf, shepherd’s pie, lasagna, and even golambkis for the Polish persuasion (a heavy package of minced and spiced beef swaddled and baked in boiled cabbage leaves). The piquant homemade gumbo is spicy and satisfying, swimming with chicken, shrimp, rice and bits of veggies. The gumbo is just one of the stews that cycles through the extensive soup lineup, which has included lobster bisque, creative chilled varieties and split pea, to name a few.
In the summer heat, Burgundy Brooks has offered up chicken fajitas and barbecued pulled pork, plus iced lattes and milkshakes to cool customers down. The tower of pink plush that is the strawberry shake is tempting to try and tackle alone, but to avoid brain freeze and stomach ache, I suggest making it a team effort. While indulgent and dense as an ice cream shake should be, this dessert drink was still thin enough to slurp with a straw; a spoon is required only to scoop up the globs of sunken whipped cream.
As conservative spending habits have started to relax following the recession, business has picked up at Burgundy Brooks, where all options fall under $8.50, all sandwiches under $6.95. On the weekend, lines can clog the door, much like the throngs of ravenous college students that raid Stables Sandwich Shoppe, C.J.’s former spot in Hadley. Because it’s located in the quiet back country and not at the epicenter of the Five College community, Burgundy Brooks doesn’t attract a crowd like Stables. But that doesn’t bother its mature clientele, who are more interested in enjoying the corned beef hash than eavesdropping on the gossip from Saturday night. The next idle summer morning, I’ll make the leisurely drive down Route 181 and rejoin my breakfast brethren, get back to my roots. I’ve been wooed by its lunches, and I suspect that Burgundy Brooks will win me over with its morning fare. After all, I’m a breakfast girl at heart.
Burgundy Brooks, 1060 Sykes St., Route 181, Palmer, (413) 283-6019.
