A recent breakfast at Tao Natural Foods recalled a sage observation made by my high school art history teacher, one that has stuck with me all these decades later. We were discussing the seemingly simplistic aspects of Minimalist painter Ellsworth Kelly's work, and a classmate quipped, "I could have done that." Mr. Beehler rolled his eyes. "The point is, you didn't," he said.
That's the Deep Thought that flashed across my mind as my spoon began to tear into a fetching breakfast parfait at Tao (pronounced dow). Just looking at it made me feel healthier, and it was a paragon of taken-for-granted juxtapositions: the sour tang of rich whole-milk yogurt against the genial sweetness of apples, soft banana vs. crunchy granola, bright blueberries next to pale green kiwi fruit. What a lovely way to greet the morning, truly. "Why don't I make this at home?" is what I scribbled in my notebook. Sheer laziness, probably.
All-organic Tao isn't exactly a beacon of culinary innovation. But it's not trying to be, either. The restaurant, part of a larger natural health foods and wellness operation that dates back to 1971 (even further at a previous location), is more the equivalent of a vegetarian/vegan short-order diner, with home-style cooking elevated to a modest commercial scale. It fills a niche, and, in many cases, does what it does very well.
Back to breakfast. I'm not much of an oatmeal person, but Tao's tasty version -- fortified with flax, millet and sunflower seeds -- could make me a convert. Like most of the kitchen's sandwiches, its a.m. version starts with a hearty multigrain bread from Solomon Bakery in Minneapolis before being piled high with avocado, Cheddar, a remarkably juicy tomato and a fried egg. Nice, and even better with a side of another minor triumph, an impressively fresh salsa.
My love affair with the kitchen's creamy-yet-chunky guacamole started with its breakfast burrito, which is liberally crammed with toothy black beans, rice, scrambled eggs and that marvelous salsa. Oh, and the tender, lightly toasted waffles, made with what sounds like a guilt-free mix of every grain and nut in the bulk foods aisle at the co-op, are dressed with a pleasant combination of walnuts and a dark maple syrup.
Simple pleasures
Yes, I will admit to stifling a snotty little smirk when an earnest and utilitarian-looking plate of rice and steamed vegetables was placed in front of me. But you know what? With each virtuous forkful, the short-grain brown rice began to reveal all kinds of winning attributes: semi-crunchy, sort of nutty, slightly sticky and sneakily delicious. Ditto the cauliflower, broccoli, kale, cabbage and other nourishing if standard-issue vegetables, ramped up by the kitchen's take-no-prisoners hot sauce and a splash of sesame oil.
Kitchen manager Sam Needham and his crew also put up about a dozen sandwiches, ranging from a decent tempeh Reuben to a terrific grilled Rachel, stuffed with thick slices of Minnesota-raised turkey. It's one of two animal proteins served at the restaurant; the other is a high-quality canned albacore tuna, the base of a swell tuna salad sandwich.
