We came here on a whim. A last-minute brunch decision. Nothing planned. No expectations. And what…read morefollowed was a core memory in three courses and a complimentary Bloody Mary shot accompanied by the cutest green olive.
The moment we walked in, it felt like home, but not in the "kick off your shoes" way. No, this was the "you're safe here, baby" kind of home. The vibe? Cozy. Elevated. Like Restoration Hardware met someone emotionally stable.
Elliott was our server and an absolute delight. Joseph was the manager, casually spreading joy like Oprah with a tray of Bloody Mary shots. Amber... now let me pause here, because this woman deserves a paragraph of her own.
Amber isn't just a GM. She's the kind of soul you meet once and never forget. When I asked for her to come to our table just to pay her a compliment, we both practically teared up. She received it with open arms, no ego, no deflection, just pure, gracious presence. I was mid-sentence and suddenly I had that Creed song stuck in my head. You know the one. "With arms wide open..." That's the kind of energy she brought to the entire restaurant. Amber made every person in that room feel like they mattered. Not because it's her job, but because it's who she is. She's fresh off earning her master's in hospitality, and if that degree came with a crown, she's wearing it. The Porch doesn't just run smoothly. It runs on Amber energy.
But let's talk about the moment I saw God.
Cornbread Eggs Benedict:
Not crab. Not salmon. Corn. Bread. And not just any cornbread. The softest, fluffiest, most cuttable cloud of golden glory I've ever had the pleasure of annihilating with a fork. A fork, not a steak knife. Do you understand how rare that is? Normally I'm out here sawing through an English muffin like I'm in a lumberjack competition. This? Melted like butter. Tasted like a hug. 12/10. Incredible.
And then, as if the eggs benny enlightenment wasn't enough, Joseph reappears with a tray of free Bloody Mary shots for the entire restaurant. With olives. For everyone. The joy? Immediate. The energy? Electric. The crowd? Unified. I watched a grandmother at the next table raise her glass like the queen she is. I nearly cried.
This wasn't service. This was a masterclass in human connection. Restaurants can be transactional. Robotic. This was the opposite. This was care, intention, soul.
My high school principal once said:
"The difference between ordinary and extraordinary is that little bit of extra."
The Porch brought extra, bagged it, garnished it, and served it on a tray.
Final thought: If you're not brunching here, I'm concerned.
If you are? I'll raise my Bloody Mary shot to you. And Amber, if you ever run for mayor, you've already got my vote. I'll run your campaign and show up in a custom t-shirt.
