Off we go to The Liberty Tree to rally for individual liberty, resistance to tyranny, and no taxation without representation!
Oh, wait. It’s Saturday morning.
Off we go to The Liberty Tree to rally for cheap mimosas, breakfast pizza, and a semi-drunken afternoon with hungover friends!
Yes, yes. That’s more our speed.
The Liberty Tree, a quaint little restaurant hidden behind the absolute mayhem of road construction that is H Street Northeast, just started their brunch last month.
Would we eat there? Would we brunch there?
Well, we gave it a shot. I guess it was the brick oven that was calling my name from afar. Or perhaps it was the chef, who hails from DC’s favorite pizza staple, Matchbox.
Speaking of pizza, the brunch menu had a slew of them, made to order in the open-air kitchen. But besides the pizza options, the brunch menu is small and mostly Northeastern (lobster on your eggs Benny, anyone?).
The drinks hit the spot. The Blood Mary’s passed the unsuckdcmetro test, and when I ordered a mimosa, our server gave me three options: pear, mango, or regular. Hmmm. All three, please!
Our server was knowledgeable and speedy. And that’s credit to her, because we had a huge and slightly obnoxious group, complete with two SLR cameras, an HD video recorder, a panama hat, and 10 pairs of sunglasses. She said it was her first time serving brunch, which was a little surprising, because she was still able to sell each and every menu item like it was gourmet.
OK, onto the food. Let me begin by saying, they’re not beautiful dishes, but the food is good. Solidly average comfort food, I’d say. Certainly nothing to venture that far out for if you’re not within stumbling distance. The breakfast pizza was ladled with maple syrup, bacon bits, cheese, and egg. And it had a thin, crunchy crust, which made it hard for this Brit to eat it with a knife and fork.
The filet BLT was thick and consisted of an English muffin loaded with steak and bacon. Greasy and perfect for brunch. The buttermilk pancakes were moist and delicious, and topped with a blueberry compote. And the farmer’s omelet went too fast for me to even try (thanks, Gwo).
I suppose it’s hard for me to write much more about the food because it wasn’t really that memorable (and the afternoon is still a little hazy). The only real stand out was the eggs Kennebunkport, made with lobster, poached egg and hollandaise on an English muffin. But their home fries aren’t much to speak of.
The restaurant seemed to be in the throws of repair. There were dudes on ladders messing about in the ceiling while we were eating – probably fixing the air conditioning. I’ve heard awful stories of 90-degree temperatures INSIDE the restaurant during dinner, but we didn’t experience that.
Bitches say: B- Quaint and cute, and the food is solidly average. But it’s nothing to venture out that far for brunch – unless you’re really hunting for a quality pear mimosa.
1016 H Street NE
Washington, D.C. 20002