Tupelo Honey Cafe

If you ask a bunch of urban hipster mountain dwellers where the best place for breakfast was in this town, the number one answer would prolly be... Survey says, Tupelo Honey Cafe. And possibly Sunny Pointe Cafe and Early Girl Eatery... But I didn't go to these other two, so I can't say whether their shit was good or not. I did try to get into Sunny Pointe Cafe but it was a total shitshow inside with a goat rodeo on the outside. I didn't have my whip and top hat with me so I moseyed along to Tupelo. It was pretty crowded inside but did manage to grab a couple seats at the counter... Perfect, that's where I prefer to eat anyways. I sat right next to the pass, so it was nice to see all the different kinds of morsels coming out and going to the tables of lumber sexuals in wait. Everything looked pretty good, but first things first... BOOZE. I got their Bloody Mary which was pretty decent, not very strong but good flavors incorporated within it. The menu is pretty extensive and there's shit to eat for everyone... And of course, my beady little eyeballs focused right on the fried chicken. Tempting so tempting at 10AM...

Tupelo Bloody Mary. No self-respecting transplant to the south can eat brunch without a boozy liquid drink in hand. Did I really say that? What kinda fucking retard am I... Don't answer that, we all know already that I'm a fat slob-like alchie. Can't hide from that fact... Let's face it, I can't hide much anywhere except behind a barn or a 747 hangar. Another Bloody Mary, pweez, and make that with 4 ounces of vodka this time.

Biscuits. Not too shabby, crusty, fluffy and moist. Just don't overload on these gluten puffs or else you won't be able to enjoy your real meal.... But the fatties in here can't resist free fluffy things because they remind them of themselves... They both have butter and grease between their nooks and crannies.

Pickled & Fried, an assortment of pickled and fried veggies served with scratch-made Ranch. Fried pickled shit is always a treat... Shit, fried anything is always a treat. I would eat Van Gogh's ear if it was pickled fried... Even Holyfield's ear all chewed up in Tyson's mouth. Just spit it in the batter you high pitch mongoloid, it's all good, bro. These fried veggie disks were pretty good, they're a tasty snack to nibble on while you wait for your main attraction. They're not gonna win any awards but they're nice. The homemade Ranch was pretty damn good and I don't even like Ranch that much... It reminds me of manjuice.

Super Southern Breakfast Bowl, salsa verde black-eyed peas and SC stone-ground goat cheese grits layered with two all-natural, farm-fresh over-medium eggs, maple-peppered bacon, cheddar and salsa. If all that crap in a bowl wasn't enough... I had to go and ask for a side order of their Curried Fried Chicken Thighs with fresh mountain apple salsa... Because ordering the full dish would just be overkill. This is why I am so damn fat... Always going Obeast Mode. Ok, I was curious about their curried fwied cheekan... they were boneless and deep fried with a curried seasoned batter. It was heavy on the curry but just enough hints of spices that made it pretty tasty. I wish they were bone in though, that woulda been the tits. I always need a fleshy bone in my mouth, musta been my upbringing or the all the gay porn that inadvertently watched. The grit bowl was pretty hefty, it is your arteries worst nightmare... And I'm Freddy Krueger, bitch. The bowl was great on paper but it just only decent in real life. The grits were good but the presentation and the lay out really didn't really work for me... Why would you melt the cheese on top of the bacon? The entire bowl basically melted within itself, there were no distinct flavors even though there were so many different items in there. If they put this entire thing in a blender, it would taste exactly the same. Luckily, I got the fwied cheekan on the side or else this review would have gone much much worse... I coulda got medieval on your ass. Grit bowl, thank mistor cheekan that you didn't get worked on by a coupla hard, pouch-hittin' fatties with a pair of pliers and a blow torch. You hear me talkin', hillbilly boy? As Flo would say, kiss my grits.

Famous Sweet Potato Pancake, whipped peach butter, spiced pecans. This double layer of spongy brown thing was huge... I don't know if I should sit on as a cushion or eat the fucking thing. I mean this would be a perfect yarmulke for Rocky Dennis' giant head if he was Jewish. It looks so soft and comforting like a memory foam. I did press my finga in it and it bounced back like a fucking Tempur-Pedic. It's a good pancake and pretty packed with the sweet tater flavoring but you're still gonna load it the fuck up with the honey, jams and syrup on this beast.


I hate brunch but I like this place... The place was jamming and the line cooks were killing it from my view at the counter. It's obviously very popular with the Guy Fieri crowd, it was in tourist central after all. And I got suckered in with their shtick and fell in like with this place. I don't love it yet, but maybe with their upcoming Atlanta location I might be. 

12 College St
Asheville, NC 28801
http://tupelohoneycafe.com/location/downtown-asheville/