When a Plate of Steak and Eggs Finds Its Rhythm
A Quiet Table, a Loud Plate, and Brunch in 5/4 Time
The Blue Plate Special Special Kitchen Restaurant Review by Gary Gardiner
One in a series from The Taste of Westerville Restaurants
As much as I love a good biscuit, fried chicken, and spicy honey, the Creole steak and eggs were my choice at 101 Kitchen. The fried chicken and biscuit had its pull, especially under chili-honey gravy, but I love a good steak even more. Filet medallions, fried green tomatoes, remoulade, and brunch potatoes made the decision easy.
Maybe that goes back to family. I had a great-uncle in the cattle business, and although I never knew whether the beef we were eating came from one of his herds, there was something satisfying about knowing steaks were in the family story.
I like eating at 101 Kitchen. It’s bright. Large windows in front and along the side, so nothing feels kept in the dark. Dark belongs in a roadside inn where travelers are strangers and the initiated sit facing the door, in a place that makes me wonder what I’m not supposed to see. Wondering is not great for my appetite. Once my appetite gets suspicious, the bill has a problem too.
I’ve taken to dining when restaurants aren’t full. I like being able to relax, alone at a table for four with no one at the adjacent tables. Just me, a good book, poetry preferred, a glass of cold water, and, at 101 Kitchen, a blue sky to gaze into as I ponder iambic pentameter and remoulade.
I had a conversation this week with someone about listening and hearing, and how the two are not the same. Listening requires a kind of agility, and maybe we’re losing some of that because we hear too much, too often. We move through the day surrounded by sound, each noise arriving as if it deserves attention. After a while, it can confuse us, distract us, or even undermine a clear, focused mind.
Sitting alone at a table for four, with no one nearby and clouds moving across a blue sky, I felt myself paying attention in a way that gets harder in louder rooms. There was no need to sort through noise or decide what mattered. The room had given me space enough to notice the day, the water glass, the book, the light, and the quiet expectation of a meal still on its way.
That expectation had its own kind of pleasure. For a few minutes, the Creole steak and eggs existed only as language: filet medallions, peperonata, spinach, fried green tomatoes, remoulade, brunch potatoes. I had ordered the idea of it and let the menu do what menus do best: ask the appetite to imagine.
Then the server set the plate before me, and imagination gave way to evidence. The idea had weight, color, shine, and steam. It wanted to be heard.
I listened, savoring every bite. The soft scrambled egg against the tender filet. The tang of remoulade. The crispy potatoes off to the side, ready whenever the plate needed crunch. It was rich, but not one-note. Every bite had something else to say.
The plate was stacked, sauced, and unapologetic: soft yellow egg, charred filet, remoulade, spinach, peperonata, and fried green tomato all working for space. The browned edges of the steak added depth to the dish, while the egg and sauce softened it. The greens and peppers brought enough color and brightness to keep the richness in check.
It was not a quiet plate, which made it a funny companion to the quiet table. I had been sitting there thinking about clouds, poetry, and the luxury of not being crowded, and then this Creole steak and eggs showed up like a brass band. Loud, rich, messy, close. The kind of brunch dish that does not ask for attention so much as take it.
But eventually the brass band settled into something more like Brubeck in 5/4, still lively, still off-center, but smooth enough to follow once I found the rhythm. Bite by bite, the plate made sense: egg, filet, remoulade, potatoes, greens, heat, richness, crunch. By the end, I was wishing, for the second week in a row, that I had a piece of bread to finish off the last hints of sauce.
This was the kind of listening one hopes for in a restaurant. A meal speaking clearly through its design, not with fuss, but with pleasure: soft egg, tender filet, tangy remoulade, crisp potatoes, heat, richness, contrast. It reminded me that good food does not need to shout to be heard. It only needs to be worth listening to.
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The Westerville News is a reader-supported publication by Gary Gardiner, a lifelong journalist who believes hyper-local reporting is the future of news. This publication focuses exclusively on Westerville—its local news, influence on Central Ohio, and how surrounding areas shape the community.
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