From the parking lot, it looks like a normal strip-mall restaurant. It is not. First Watch has apparently consumed two or three neighboring storefronts and now stretches across the building like a breakfast-themed empire. The actual entrance is way over on the left, which I learned only after confidently trying locked doors clearly noted with signs telling me to use another door. #NotPayingAttention Nothing establishes dominance quite like tugging repeatedly on a door while an entire restaurant watches from the other side. If you visit, go left. Keep going. When you think you may have wandered into another ZIP code, you're getting close.
Once inside, the place is enormous. The décor blends modern and rustic perfectly, creating a warm, inviting atmosphere that encourages you to relax, enjoy your food, and spend time with the people around you--many of whom presumably located the entrance without turning it into a public performance.
My server was Juana, and she was absolutely wonderful. She had the kind of genuinely warm and caring personality that cannot be manufactured in a corporate training video. She smiled easily, laughed freely, and made me feel like she was sincerely glad I was there--even though she may have witnessed my unsuccessful door auditions. Great servers bring your food. Juana brought joy to the table.
I ordered the Godfather Breakfast Bowl, and we need to discuss First Watch's understanding of geometry. This is not really a bowl. It is a plate with tall sides--a plate that has installed a privacy fence and now identifies as a gated community. I expected the ingredients to be layered together, but everything arrived separately, positioned around the plate like relatives at the reading of a will.
This is actually brilliant because you get to assemble each bite yourself. Put some Calabrian chiles on the eggs, add a little of the dressed greens, and prepare for your mouth to receive information it was not expecting before 9:00 a.m.
The chiles have tremendous flavor, but they also have a definite bite. If ketchup makes you nervous, approach them as you would an unfamiliar dog: slowly, respectfully, and without sudden movements. Start with a little. You can always add more; removing Calabrian chiles from your bloodstream is considerably more complicated. For people who enjoy some heat, though, they transform the eggs and greens into something spectacular.
Grits and I have historically maintained a peaceful relationship by staying away from each other. I do not order them, and they do not follow me home. These grits may have ended that arrangement. They were fantastic--rich, flavorful, and nothing like the bland bowl of damp construction material I normally associate with grits. I don't know what First Watch does to them. There may be butter. There may be cheese. There may be a small Southern grandmother in the kitchen threatening them into excellence. Whatever is happening, it works.
Then came the sausage.
I was not prepared for this magnificent tube of pork goodness, split lengthwise and griddled until it had achieved a level of self-confidence normally reserved for professional wrestlers entering an arena. The flavor was unbelievable. This sausage did not merely accompany the meal; it arrived with top billing, its own dressing room, and strict instructions that nobody make eye contact until after breakfast.
This is the sort of food I desperately miss while living in northwest Iowa, where salt and pepper are often considered exotic seasonings, paprika requires a county permit, and anything labeled "spicy" may have been stored briefly near a green bell pepper.
First Watch desperately needs to be on your must-eat list. Find the door, ask for Juana, order the Godfather, enjoy the chiles, and reconsider everything you thought you knew about grits. Just remember that breakfast begins only after you defeat the building. read more