Taste: 5

The frittata tastes delicious. Enough said.

Presentation: 2

Predictably, a whole mess of meat, vegetables, eggs and potatoes slopped together doesn’t look too pretty. 

Price: 4.5

Although the price of the whole frittata feels a little steep, you’ve got to bear in mind that you’re going to have lots of leftovers.

Mother’s Cupboard Fish Fry & Diner looks so tiny that we nearly drove past it Saturday afternoon after hopping in the car in search of brunch. 

The restaurant captures the ‘classic diner feel.’ The fairly brusque service and a casual atmosphere feel secondary compared to the main event – the food.  Mother’s Cupboard’s claim to national fame came two years ago when Adam Richman of Food Network’s ‘Man vs. Food’ stopped in to take the Whole Frittata Challenge, in which the restaurant dares customers to try to finish an entire frittata.   

That’s six pounds of meat, vegetables and eggs.  I knew I had to try it. 

‘I’ll have the frittata, please,’ I told the waitress.

‘Half?’ she asked. 

‘Nope, whole.’

I swear she smirked. 

‘And I’ll get it with cheese.’

Ha. I’d show her.

Several of my dining partners gave me pep talks. We all agreed that getting the free T-shirt bestowed upon all those capable of finishing the frittata would be pretty freaking cool. 

We tossed around different strategies. Eat quickly so that my stomach wouldn’t have time to realize how full it was. Stop drinking my steaming mug of coffee; an empty stomach was key. Approach the meal with a ‘can do’ attitude; if I decided to force myself to finish, I couldn’t fail.

A few fist bumps and a couple of ‘Rocky’-esque shoulder rubs later, and I felt confident about my ability to polish off the heftiest of plates.

Then I saw the frittata. It was massive. A waitress brought the giant portion to a table of gentlemen in front of us, and I coolly scoped out who would be my frittata-eating competition. She placed it in front of a sturdy looking fellow with his back to me, and I admitted his odds of conquering the plate were better than mine. To my horror, the waitress placed about three more empty plates around the table in front of his companions. They planned to all share one frittata. Gulp.

My confidence momentarily waned, but managed to kick back into high gear with the encouragement of my friends. When the frittata eventually arrived, my mouth gaped.

The meal’s makeup: one pound of potatoes, four eggs and enough bell peppers, onions, pepperoni, Italian sausage and broccoli to bring the frittata to a whopping six pounds. On top, two pieces of toasted Italian bread gleamed gold with butter.   

The heap thickened in the middle, so I decided to employ a tunneling technique, attacking the center with a ravenous ferocity. Each bite tasted delicious. The pepperoni in particular added a divine saltiness, and the broccoli snapped in my mouth. The hunks of potato were so hot I nearly had to spit out a few bites with a burned tongue. 

About 15 minutes into the meal, everything still tasted amazing, but I realized that a little goal adjustment was necessary: All I wanted was to wolf down enough of the frittata that at least part of the white plate underneath could shine through. All ambitions of finishing dashed away.

After 30 minutes, I felt close to the point of gastronomical explosion. My eyes glazed over, and I no longer participated in the conversations going on around me. With each new bite, my stomach swelled. And I still couldn’t see any of the plate underneath the mound.

40 minutes of valiant eating effort later, I had to call it quits or risk releasing all of the consumed frittata back to its original place.

Our waitress sauntered over with to-go containers. When I filled mine up, excess food spilled over the sides. Looking at the loaded container, you would have thought I didn’t eat anything at all. 

Although I didn’t leave Mother’s Cupboard with a free T-shirt or bragging rights, I did gain a silly memory, a full stomach and leftovers to last me into next week. 

jidonfro@syr.edu

Published on April 11, 2012 at 12:00 pm