Our House (Winooski, VT)

Just past Ethan Allen’s final resting place, down a sharp hill on Colchester Avenue, and across a bridge spanning the Onion River is a roundabout two blocks long, referred to by some locals as the Winooski Speedway.  There is a lovely park at its center, with fountains and benches and seasonal decorations.  Now, though, at the end of the Winter, it’s mostly just covered in snow.  It’s the outside of the Speedway that holds more interest to us.  At street level, most of the buildings lining the roundabout house restaurants and bars (and one coffee shop).

Our House is one such restaurant, providing guests with their take on “twisted comfort food” since 2010.  The establishment has done well since then, placing first in the “Best Creative Chowda” division of the New England Chowdafest competition in 2015 and 2016, not to mention  several other accolades they’re not shy about sharing in the “About” section of their website.  The dining room is decorated to feel homey and comfortable, with album covers lining the top of the wall in place of crown moulding.  At eye level runs a shelf sporting classic aluminum lunchboxes of various varieties.  Next to our table were the Justice Friends and Beetle Bailey.  Over the speakers played classic songs like “99 Red Baloons” and “Paint it Black.”  All of this contributed to a very familiar, laid back atmosphere that subtly complimented the menu.

My party arrived just in time to be served brunch, so naturally most of us took advantage of it.  I got the eggs benedict: two lightly poached eggs served on a thick slice of sourdough with bacon, spinach, and hollandaise sauce.  Admittedly, my first move was to put all the bacon off to the side and eat it separately.  Eggs benedict already has a lot of pieces to try to keep together without crumbly strips of meat (which are traditionally a side dish finger food anyway) falling off my fork.  Even without the bacon on it, the meal was excellent, particularly with the bacon to compliment.  The eggs were poached brilliantly, and the sourdough was perfect for absorbing the escaped yolk.  I was delighted to find that even after I’d run out of egg, there was enough bread left to mop up the remaining yolk and sauce left on my plate.

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