Thursday, April 10, 2008

The breakfast club

It's Masters Tournament weekend. Possibly that makes your putter flutter. Then again, maybe you openly scoff at golf, reiterating what a doubter said once — it's not a sport, it's just people in silly pants walking. Personally, I think you can do much worse than spend a splendid day outdoors on manicured greens while getting in a little exercise and a lot of beer.

That's what I was thinking last Sunday when spring finally came calling on Columbus, and offered us the kind of day that makes you want to maximize your al fresco time. With this in mind, and with an eagle eye toward a practice swing for the Masters (one of the few golfing events worth watching on TV), I decided to hit the links — the sausage links, that is.

It might not be Augusta National, but the OSU golf course is considerably closer — plus it's open to the public (though with limited availability). And on Sundays, the clubhouse restaurant lays out a brunch buffet for all takers. That fine munch will suit you to a tee if you're swinging to fill a hole in one hungry tummy. Sinking in at $17 (that includes drink, tax and tip), it's a lot of value for the green and you're sure to drive away happy.

Thus I found myself on that gloriously warm and sunny late Sunday morning listening to the reassuring, seasonal sounds of birds chirping and spikey shoes clacking across the OSU golf course parking lot. The restaurant's located in the Clubhouse — a pleasant, unimposing building with a stone facade and brickwork surrounding three stout wooden doors.

The dining area is one floor up. It's basically a large single banquet room sectioned in two by the steam-table lineup. With stone walls and wooden beams, the place has a sort of lodge-like feel, albeit one with banks of windows brilliantly positioned right above the golf course. While the vibe there was totally casual, many patrons had donned nice outfits. I suppose they came dressed up for either 11 a.m. church services or 11 a.m. tee times, depending on how they worshipped.

Either way, we all had communion at the buffet. In general, the spread was a mix of fresh breakfast favorites and lunchtime comfort foods but also some more interesting options. There were several healthy choices, and overall I'd say the buffet was nicely tended and executed just as well, or better, than many three-star hotels.

For the not-so-early birds, there were:

  • excellent soft-scrambled eggs that never hardened or dried out
  • standard sausage and bacon
  • golden-brown, ungreasy, cinnamony, homemade beignets
  • a quiche Lorraine that was properly custardy in the middle, and flaky and firm outside
  • glistening "supremed" grapefruit and orange segments
  • a fresh fruit cocktail starring melons

Some of the more lunchy stuff was:

  • a crisp vegetable salad with broccoli, cauliflower, grape tomatoes, red peppers and cucumbers in a perky basil vinaigrette
  • crunchy and fruity chicken salad with a French-like dressing
  • crepes stuffed with asparagus and a sort of chicken tetrazini (with sherry, cream and cheese)
  • spinach the way I like it, correctly sauteed with garlic
  • super tender slices of juicy pork loin on a refreshing bed of blanched lettuce
  • fried chicken in the forms of unsauced wings (crackly and old-school good) and tenders (a little dry)
As I made my way over to the table where slices of cakes and pies awaited (like very serviceable cheesecake and a thick, jumbo-pretzel-like rustic apple tart) I gazed out onto the golf course. I saw flags unfurling in the breeze, trees still trying to make leaves and a poor guy flailing away hopelessly in a sand trap. That's when I thought that sometimes the best way to enjoy golf is by watching it with a hunk of dessert stuffed in your face. The hell with that frustrating little ball.