Lately I've been taking the G train up to Williamsburg to have breakfast at a place called Egg. It's on 135 N. 5th., just west of bedford. They're only open until 12.
They have a biscuit that is out of this effing world. It's a buttermilk biscuit, from scratch, fluffy, gets mashed down and sticks together with the homemade fig jam, and stuck on the other side fromm the melted cheese. Holy holy holy.
Say goodbye to every other southern food joint you've ever been to in the north.
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