Since May, Revolution (the restaurant attached to the Rev Room) has been hosting a Beatles Brunch on Sundays from 11:00 a.m. to 3:30 p.m. What this means is, you order something called Strawberry Fields Salad, or maybe Lovely Rita Frittata, which you munch against the soundtrack of a multi-generational covers-crooning trio in the corner. Could be a bit high on the cheese factor (and it was, literally and figuratively), which is maybe why it took us a few months to make it out. But when we did, it was fun.
First off, Revolution’s décor is fabulous. It’s like a cross between a Día de los Muertos parade and a host of Toulouse-Lautrec dancers crashing a New Orleans house party, if that house is nestled inside a shallow cave. Start with an old warehouse (exposed pipes and jutting vents and such) painted black and retro-fitted with skylights that pour forth precise bars of light. Add roomy booths, an extensive collection of liquor bottles, saloon lamps and some strategically placed Mexican skeletons and wah-lah — the perfect place to medicate your Saturday night indulgences with a Sunday morning Bloody Mary. And this Bloody Mary lives up to the décor. It’s spicy but not peppery, stout but fresh, served with tangy pickled okra and a rim of chunky Cajun salt ($5 a joy-ride).
Food-wise, we went with cheese and eggs — though you could go with chicken and waffles or steak or even chicken hash (an intriguing prospect, no?). The Day Tripper Frittata was more omelet than quiche, with three cheeses (cheddar, monetary jack and, for a texture switch-a-roo, feta) and three veggies (spinach, tomato and portabella). It was well-cooked but, despite the host of ingredients, the salty feta eclipsed everything. The frittata was served with a side of tiny cubed potatoes (as all the entrees seemed to be) and boringly basic ketchup. This was no “Here Comes the Sun” moment, but it was a perfectly solid “Day Tripper,” and we’d do it again.
We also tried the Octopus’s Garden, two pan-fried crab cakes on a toasted English muffin, topped with poached eggs and a chipotle hollandaise. Even presented nicely (and it was), this is the kind of dish that solicits giggles. It’s just so, well, round. And gelatinous. And jiggling. But it tasted great, although it's a little heavy for our first-thing-in preferences. The hollandaise was mildly sweet and smoky, without being clumpy or thick (both common downfalls of hollandaise, in our experience). The wilted baby spinach tucked under the muffin was a happy surprise.
Entrees will run you around ten bucks, and the music isn’t over-powering. In fact, it was comforting and a little dreamy. Nothing like staying up all night and then breakfasting in a haze of good friends, red velvet, streaming light and gauzy curtains, while the whimsical melody to “Blackbird” floats behind and around you, somewhere just out of reach.