It is!
Especially when country ham is on the menu.
Finch’s is the sort of restaurant about which I fantasize. When my car is pointed down some freeway, tearing towards a work gig, I imagine continuing on and on and on, radio stations easing from static to clear and back to static again. Well, I’ll be darned! Before coming to my senses I’ve pulled into Finch’s parking lot, seven hours from home.
When you walk in to my fantasy joint you are neither ignored nor acknowledged, you are just there, as though you have been a well-oiled, solidly performing fixture for a decade. Heads don’t turn away from their grits and eggs. Comfort in that.
Photos by Heidi Leech, weekend partner in crimes and dishdemeanors.
During the week Heidi is working her fingers, brains and the TV tubes. All that industry will produce an appetite in a girl, making for a superb traveling companion. We were in Finch’s together, a trio with Coffee Monkey, the morning after a Bottle Rockets show at the Berkeley Cafe in Raleigh.
While I can’t say for sure Finch’s pulls a strong draw should you crave a sandwich, I can promise you that your thick, oval breakfast plate will yield a large enough ham harvest to cover two meals. Got some bread on ya around noon? You’re all set, darlin. Dig around in your pockets for a bit of onion to stand up to the salt and that sandwich will turn you inside-out with yakkety yak good taste.
The Lunch Encounter 