Where to eat brunch in Philadelphia? There are many options, but few better than Jones on Chestnut Street.
Walk in and immediately it’s like you’re at the pool party house in Boogie Nights. Total seventies kitsch from the green wool booths to faux stone columns. Clean lines and cool lighting. Servers wear vintage rock t’s and the open kitchen against the back wall is constantly buzzing. Jones is mostly upscale Americana, and brunch has all the usual heavy hitters. Everyone at the table over had the huevos rancheros, so they must be good. Belgian waffles with whipped cream and breakfast sandwiches on fresh brioche kept flying out of the kitchen.
I went for the classic pancakes and was completely overwhelmed, in a good way. Listen, my appetite isn’t what is use to be so I’ll be honest and say that I couldn’t put down all three of the massive flapjacks covered in butter and syrup. Seriously, three of those babies were equivalent to a small birthday cake. Portion size is not a problem. The stars of brunch though are the real applewood smoked bacon and the tator tots. Jones’ bacon is legit. You can see and taste the real smoke. The throwback middle school lunch tator tots: simply addictive; crunchy and greasy and far superior to the typical home fries.
Brunch at Jones: Diesel.