Edie’s is an unlikely institution in Lafayette. It sits alongaside a Shell station on the edge of town. It looks like a drab chain restaurant from the outside, complete with a cute, nonsensical branded slogan: “Love you like a biscuit.” But inside, it feels more like a favorite local haunt. Lines are constant, with most customers ordering honey-soaked biscuits or biscuit sandwiches by the dozen.
We love Edie’s like a dozen biscuits. It’s a rare place that captures the best aspects of fast food and home-cooking in one sweet package. It’s a streamlined kitchen that churns out a consistent product. Prices compete with what they’re serving under the golden arches, but the food is bakery fresh, wholesome, and picture perfect.
Everything at Edie’s is very good, even a styrofoam cup of Community Coffee that comes piping hot. Clearly made with a precise amount of grounds, it does not suffer from the bitterness that often characterizes lesser brewings of Louisiana’s favorite joe. Such details are essential to a good breakfast. The biscuits aren’t particularly rich or buttery, but they are soft and they crumble just right. They are biscuits that are powered by baking precision rather than ingredient costs. On their own, they eat a tad dry, as biscuits generally do; but they sing with a hot cup of coffee.
Sweet biscuits include a honey drenched one and an icing-glazed blueberry version with berries throughout the dough. The latter has the sweet satisfaction of a blueberry cake donut, but it isn’t overly sweet. In fact, there is a delicate spice to it that is beguiling.
Among savory choices, two stand-outs are the fried chicken biscuit and the brisket biscuit. The fried chicken is served with a perfectly cooked egg and a smear of hot sauce that compliments tender, moist, peppery fried chicken. We’re not the biggest fan of fried chicken sandwiches (too much bread), but this made us believers. The brisket biscuit is even better. It’s braised beef rather than barbecued, but it has a smoky pan sauce. The very tender meat packs complex flavor, reminding us of a fine Chanukah dinner on the go. A small slice of American cheese acts as the glue between the crumbly biscuit and the meat debris, preventing the sandwich from desolving completely. No offense Texans, but this beats any breakfast taco.
Sides are limited to grits and hash-brown patties. Grits are the better choice, even if the hash browns slide nicely into breakfast sandwiches. Like the biscuits, the grits are simple and basic, but cooked and seasoned just right. An impossibly cheap side of them is enough to satisfy hunger for a whole morning.