Seriously Satisfying Sons of Essex – NYC

I may be goofy-happy whenever I’m in NYC, but I’m anything but goofy when it comes to food. And Sons of Essex. I’m dead serious about Sons of Essex. Sons of Essex has an almost cliché storefront for an NYC establishment. Miniscule, easily passable, made to look like yet another hole in the wall, yet another deli.  And the ingredients they use are mundane deli fare, but there’s nothing mundane about the combinations they come up with.

If Sloppy Judah had betrayed Sloppy Joe for a few pieces of silver when I was in grade school, I may have started liking his namesake sandwich sooner (too soon?).The fried egg under the crispy-soft bun runs over the short rib, adding to the gooey guarantee of a heart attack. I’ve been told that Manischewitz is a gross refreshment, but it sure tastes good when short rib is braised in it…Maybe if they started dipping short rib into Manischewitz regularly I would attend more Seders…

Once I was done chuckling about the name, I found that there was nothing laughable about the Eggs Benedictowitz. Black discs of burnt latkes that looked like they were doused by giant fleeing squid…did someone tell the squid he wasn’t kosher? These were serious latkes…seriously burnt! I know some people like them burnt to a crisp, but I for one didn’t enjoy being assaulted by the taste of char, oy vey! To be fair, they were burnt impressively evenly – uniformly black without a single spot of crumbling soot…I always thought that burnt food reflected a lack of skill, but clearly not in this case. The smoked salmon was quite serious as well. I’ve had plenty of lox, but this stuff was almost creamy/buttery, supporting salmon’s reputation as a fatty fish. Word from the wise: eat this dish first. It’s hard to stomach after half the sloppy Judah – it’s just too rich to follow anything, and it’s literally a good death by salmon.

And what brunch is complete without a side of Truffle Tater Tots? Perfect crispy golden-brown cylinders of baller truffle goodness…I could eat the entire basket myself!

It’s hard to clear your plate at Sons of Essex because everything is just so over-the-top rich and heavy. Then again, why complain about having those leftovers of lunch the next day? But if you’re aching for gluttony and deep down want to spring for the extra everything, Sons of Essex promises to take care of that. The menu doesn’t give you a choice – every dish is just too much, and if will scratch that itch no matter how deep it goes (that's what she said). Light brunches are for sissies, and Sons of Essex is where real men (and women!) gorge themselves, and believe me, there is no way to leave unsatisfied.

Son of a…is rarely a compliment, but I’d be proud to be son of an Essex. Though I don’t know Essex, and I don’t know his sons, they must have been morbidly obese. And I plan to grow fat with them over brunch in NYC.